#it makes me wonder if I should read the other fic too but I don’t ship him with anyone else and I never will | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jupiterpilgrim · 4 months ago

Text

A+ Affair

Yunjin x Male Reader

word count: 11K

[commissioned fic]

The clock on your phone reads five minutes past the hour, and you’re already muttering under your breath as you jog down the hallway, adjusting your messenger bag over one shoulder. Of course, the one time you get assigned a one-on-one consultancy, you’re late. It’s not even your fault—you’d spent the last hour drowning in administrative work, filing reports no one was likely to read, all while wondering why someone thought a graduate student with no actual teaching experience would be the perfect fit to guide an undergrad. But here you are, running behind and feeling grossly underprepared.

When you finally reach the office, your hand hovers over the door handle as you suck in a breath, trying to pull yourself together. You’re supposed to look like you know what you’re doing. Confidence, right? Even if your experience as a teaching assistant has mostly involved stapling worksheets and running occasional errands. This is different—real academic guidance. A chance to prove yourself.

You push open the door, already apologizing before you’ve even looked up.

“Sorry, sorry, I lost track of time—oh.”

Your words catch, and you blink once, twice, to make sure your eyes aren’t playing tricks on you.

She’s sitting sideways in the chair, one leg crossed over the other, her fingers lazily scrolling through her phone like she doesn’t have a care in the world. Her hair gleams under the fluorescent lighting, every strand impossibly perfect, cascading over her shoulders. She’s wearing a bright, skintight top that clings to her frame, paired with a skirt so short you almost feel scandalized just looking at it. Her legs are bare, crossed just enough to hide anything too revealing, but her thighs look smooth and soft, the kind of thighs that command attention. Her lips—God, her lips are plump, painted in a glossy pink that makes them impossible to ignore.

She doesn’t even notice you’re there.

You hesitate for a moment, unsure how to proceed. The room feels smaller somehow, warmer, even though she hasn’t looked up from her phone. You straighten your back, pull your bag strap tighter over your shoulder, and clear your throat.

“Uh, hi. I’m, uh—” You stop, mentally berating yourself for sounding like a nervous freshman on their first day. You start again, your voice steadier. “Hi. I’m your teaching assistant, and I’ll be helping you with your exam prep.”

That gets her attention. She looks up, her lips curving into a slow smile as she sets her phone on the desk.

“Oh, hey. Didn’t see you come in.” Her voice is casual, breezy, like she’s greeting an old friend instead of her academic consultant.

“Right. Uh, sorry about being late. That’s on me.” You glance at the desk, trying to focus on the papers and not the way her eyes seem to linger on you for just a moment too long. “Let’s get started.”

“No worries.” She leans back in her chair, her posture relaxed, one leg bouncing slightly as if the whole situation is no big deal to her. “I’m Yunjin, by the way. But I guess you already knew that.”

You nod, forcing yourself to keep your tone professional. “Yeah, I reviewed your file. I'm here to help you prepare for the upcoming exam.”

“Sure, sure. Honestly, I’m just here ‘cause they said I had to be. You know how it is.”

Your brow furrows slightly. “Your grades suggest you might need more than just attendance to pass this exam. I was involved in developing the questions and the material isn’t exactly light.”

Her smile doesn’t falter, but there’s a glint of something playful in her eyes now, like she’s toying with you. “You don’t have to give me the hard sell, professor.” She says it with a teasing lilt, like she knows exactly how much the title doesn’t fit you. “Let’s just get this over with, yeah?”

You stiffen slightly, trying not to let her casual attitude get under your skin. “I’m not a professor, but I take this seriously, and you should too. Business isn’t a subject you can bluff your way through.”

“Mm, I don’t know about that,” she murmurs, tilting her head as she watches you. Her gaze is uncomfortably direct, like she’s sizing you up. “A lot of it’s just networking, right? Who you know, how you present yourself. Pretty sure I’ve got that part down.”

You don’t respond immediately, your focus shifting to the materials in your bag. Her attitude is frustrating, but you remind yourself this is your job—to help, even if the student in question doesn’t seem particularly interested in being helped. You pull out a stack of notes and a syllabus, spreading them on the desk between you.

“All right,” you say, adopting a firmer tone. “This is the outline of what we’ll be covering. We’ll start with foundational concepts—market analysis, competitive strategy—and work our way up to application-based scenarios.”

She picks up one of the papers, glancing at it briefly before setting it back down. “Sounds… riveting,” she says dryly, her lips curving into a faint smirk. “You really love this stuff, huh?”

“It’s important,” you reply, keeping your tone neutral. “And it’ll be on the exam, so—”

“Relax,” she interrupts, leaning forward slightly. Her top shifts just enough to reveal a hint of lace beneath, a flash of black that’s gone as quickly as it appeared. “I’ll pass. I always do.”

You don’t let your gaze linger, but your pulse quickens despite yourself. You force yourself to look at her face, to keep your tone professional. “I'm not here to magically make you pass. The goal is understanding the material. Mastering it.”

“Right,” she says, drawing out the word like she’s indulging you. She rests her chin on her hand, her gaze never leaving yours. “So, how old are you anyway? You don’t look much older than me.”

The question catches you off guard, you hesitate, but tell her your age.

“See?” She grins, leaning back again. “We’re practically the same age. Makes it easier to talk, don’t you think?”

You clear your throat, glancing at the clock. “We should get started. The sooner we dive into the material, the more ground we can cover.”

She shrugs, her smile never fading. “Whatever you say, prof. Lead the way.”

You try to ignore the way she’s looking at you, the playful edge in her tone.

The first ten minutes of the session feel like pulling teeth. You dive into market segmentation with the kind of energy you hope comes off as confident and not desperate. But Yunjin doesn’t seem remotely interested. She’s sprawled out in her chair, phone in hand, her fingers flying across the screen as if this is just a brief interlude in her far more important day.

“So, breaking down a market into segments allows businesses to—”

“Hold up,” she interrupts, barely looking up. “I just need to reply to this real quick.”

Your jaw tightens, but you take a breath, forcing patience. “Yunjin, we only have an hour. The more you focus, the more we can cover.”

“This is focusing,” she says, glancing up with a grin that’s as unapologetic as it is infuriating. “Social media is huge for business. You know that, right? I’ve got to stay active. Engagement is everything.”

You fold your arms, trying to keep your expression neutral. “I don’t think Instagram is going to help you pass your exam.”

“Not Instagram,” she says, her tone lightly mocking. “TikTok. Way bigger reach. I have, like, a hundred thousand followers, by the way. Do you follow me?”

“I don’t have TikTok,” you reply, too quickly.

She raises an eyebrow, like she doesn’t quite believe you. “Seriously? You’re missing out. I bet you’d love my stuff.” She leans forward, flipping her phone around to show you her profile. The screen lights up with videos of her dancing, lip-syncing, or simply posing in various trendy outfits. Her most recent one is captioned ‘CEO vibes only 💼✨’, and she’s twirling in what you think is supposed to be business attire, though it’s as tight and revealing as the clothes she is wearing now.

“That’s… impressive,” you say cautiously, unsure what else to offer.

“Right?” She beams, clearly pleased with herself. “This kind of thing is my future. Marketing, personal branding, the whole package.”

“That’s great, but right now, we’re focusing on your coursework. Market segmentation—”

“Oh, my God, you sound like a textbook,” she says with a laugh, leaning back again. Her skirt rides up just a little higher, and you force yourself to look at your notes instead. “Loosen up, professor. Ever heard of a work-life balance?”

“I’m not a professor,” you mutter under your breath, flipping through the syllabus for the next point.

She doesn’t hear you—or pretends not to. Instead, she picks up her phone again, her attention already elsewhere. You press your lips into a thin line, determined to steer the session back on track.

“All right,” you say, keeping your voice firm. “Let’s try a practical example. Imagine you’re launching a new product. How would you identify your target market?”

She hums thoughtfully, but her focus stays on her phone. “Depends. Am I selling something cute? Sexy? Or, like, functional?”

“Something practical,” you say, trying to engage her. “Let’s say a new line of eco-friendly water bottles.”

She finally looks up, her brow furrowing slightly. “Boring. Can’t we do, like, makeup or clothes or something?”

“Fine,” you relent. “A new line of cosmetics.”

“Now we’re talking.” She sits up straighter, crossing her legs. The movement draws your attention for half a second too long, your eyes flickering to her thighs before you realize what you’re doing. You snap your gaze back to the syllabus, your heart thudding in your chest.

But it’s too late.

“You looking at something, professor?” she teases, her voice light, almost singsong.

You glance up, heat flooding your face. She’s smirking now, her lips curving in a way that makes your stomach twist.

“I was just—” You scramble for an excuse, but she cuts you off.

“It’s fine,” she says, leaning her chin on her hand, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “You don’t have to be so uptight, you know. We’re both adults here.”

You clear your throat, determined to move past the moment. “Let’s stay on topic. Target markets. Who’s buying your cosmetics?”

She shrugs, clearly unfazed. “Everyone. Duh.”

“That’s too broad,” you counter, grateful for the distraction. “You need to narrow it down. Focus on specific demographics.”

“Okay, fine.” She pretends to think for a moment, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “Women in their twenties, I guess. Maybe teens, if it’s affordable. Oh, and influencers, obviously.”

“Good,” you say, nodding. “And how do you reach them?”

“Social media,” she says instantly, her confidence returning. “Instagram, TikTok, YouTube—wherever they’re scrolling.”

“Exactly,” you say, hoping to keep the momentum going. “And what about pricing strategy?”

“Cheap enough to buy, but expensive enough to look fancy,” she says, her lips quirking into a grin. “See? I’m not totally clueless.”

You can’t help but smile, despite yourself. “No, you’re not. But there’s still a lot to cover, and the clock’s ticking.”

“Then we’d better hurry,” she says, though her tone is far from urgent. She picks up her phone again, glancing at the screen before setting it back down with a sigh. “Okay, professor. Teach me.”

You shake your head, already bracing for the next distraction. This session is going to test every ounce of your patience.

—

Your bachelor apartment is the definition of bare-bones living. A twin bed shoved against one wall, a battered desk holding your overworked laptop, a couple of mismatched chairs around a table that’s seen better days. The faint hum of traffic from the campus filters through the window you’ve cracked open to keep the place from feeling too stuffy. You kick your shoes off, tossing your bag onto the floor with a weary sigh. It’s been one of those days—endless errands, an exhausting afternoon of pretending you’re more qualified than you are, and, of course, Yunjin.

She’s been stuck in your head since you left the office. Not intentionally—God, no. But something about her lingers. Maybe it’s the way she never takes anything seriously, or the way she seems so effortlessly self-assured. Like nothing in the world could possibly rattle her. It’s frustrating and impressive all at once.

You collapse onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. Yunjin. You know her type, the popular girls who glide through life on charm and good looks, who never have to try as hard as everyone else because people are just drawn to them. You’ve met girls like her before—confident, flirty, always with one eye on their phone. She’s not stupid, though. That much is clear. If anything, she’s sharp in a way that’s hard to pin down. She knows how to navigate people, situations. She knows exactly how much effort to put in to get what she wants and no more.

Your phone buzzes on the bedside table, snapping you out of your thoughts. You pick it up, scrolling aimlessly through emails, notifications, news articles—anything to distract yourself. But your mind keeps circling back. What was it she said earlier? About TikTok?

Before you can second-guess yourself, your fingers are typing the app into the search bar, downloading it in seconds. The interface is unfamiliar at first, a stream of random videos you don’t care about flashing across the screen. But it doesn’t take long to find her.

There she is. Yunjin.__official. The profile picture is exactly what you’d expect—her smiling, hair perfect, lips glossy. Her bio reads: Business student | DM for collabs. She has over a hundred thousand followers.

Your thumb hovers for a moment before you tap on her profile. The screen fills with a grid of her videos, each one a window into her carefully curated world. You tell yourself it’s just curiosity, harmless research. Nothing more.

The first video you watch is one of her dancing in her room, the camera propped up to capture every move. She’s good, you realize, her body moving fluidly, every motion precise and confident. She’s wearing workout gear—tight leggings, a cropped top—and the way the fabric clings to her curves is impossible to ignore.

You swipe to the next video. This one’s more playful, her lip-syncing to some trending audio while twirling in a skirt that flares out with every spin. The lighting is perfect, her makeup flawless, her smile dazzling.

Another video. This time she’s at a party, surrounded by friends, laughing and holding up a cocktail. The camera focuses on her as she leans in close, her expression mischievous, like she’s sharing a secret with the viewer.

You watch another. Then another.

Each one is different, but they all share the same energy—bright, vibrant, captivating. It’s no wonder she’s amassed such a following. She knows exactly how to play to the camera, how to draw people in.

Your gaze lingers a little too long on one video where she’s wearing a bikini, lounging by a pool. Her legs stretch out, her skin glistening in the sunlight. She flips her hair back, laughing at something offscreen, and for a moment, you forget to breathe.

You snap your phone shut like it’s burned you, your heart pounding. What the hell are you doing?

This is stupid. It’s late, and you’re tired, and wasting time on a student’s TikTok profile isn’t just unprofessional—it’s downright pathetic. You toss your phone onto the bedside table, rolling onto your back and running a hand over your face.

Your apartment is too quiet now, the silence pressing down on you. You close your eyes, willing yourself to think of something else. Anything else.

It takes longer than it should, but eventually, sleep claims you.

—

The next meeting starts much the same as the last—her sitting in the chair like she owns the room, one leg crossed over the other, scrolling through her phone with that same carefree attitude. You, on the other hand, feel like a bundle of nerves disguised as authority. But this time, you’ve come prepared.

“Hey, professor,” she says without looking up, her voice dripping with casual familiarity.

You close the door behind you, shaking your head. “Still not a professor.”

She grins, finally putting her phone face-down on the desk. “What’s up? Ready for another thrilling lecture?”

“I hope you’re ready,” you reply, pulling out a folder and setting it on the desk between you. “Did you study the material we went over last time?”

“Of course,” she says, all bright confidence. “I’m a great multitasker. I was studying while managing my social media. Killed two birds with one stone.”

You narrow your eyes slightly, not buying it for a second. “Right. Let’s see how much of it stuck.”

She raises an eyebrow, leaning forward. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You pull out a single-page worksheet, sliding it across the desk toward her. “It means I put together a quick assignment to see where you’re at. Shouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes if you really studied.”

The grin drops from her face, replaced by a look of mock outrage. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not.”

She picks up the sheet, scanning it quickly. “This looks like… work. Like actual work.”

“That’s because it is.” You cross your arms, leaning against the desk. “If you want to pass the exam, you need to prove you understand the material. And this is a good way to do that.”

“Ugh, you’re such a hardass,” she groans, slumping back in her chair dramatically.

You bite back a smile. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She sets the sheet down, giving you a long, appraising look. “You really aren’t gonna let me off the hook, huh?”

“Nope.”

“Not even if I—” She stops, her lips curving into a sly smile as if she’s considering something. But then she shrugs, brushing it off. “Whatever. Fine. I’ll do it.”

“Good.” You hand her a pen, feeling a small sense of victory.

She takes it with a sigh, tapping the end against the desk as she glances at the first question. “This is such a buzzkill, you know that? You’re lucky I’m in a good mood.”

“Lucky me,” you deadpan, pulling out your own notes to review while she works.

For the next few minutes, the room is quiet except for the scratch of her pen against the paper. You glance up occasionally, trying to gauge her progress. She looks focused enough—her brows furrowed slightly, lips pursed in concentration—but there’s still a glint of mischief in her eyes whenever she glances your way.

After about ten minutes, she sets the pen down with a flourish. “Done. Happy now?”

“Let’s find out.” You pick up the sheet, scanning her answers. They’re… not terrible. A little rushed, a little surface-level, but not the disaster you were expecting.

“Well?” she prompts, leaning her chin on her hand. “Did I pass the pop quiz?”

“You did… okay,” you admit. “There’s room for improvement, but it’s a start.”

She beams, like you just handed her an A. “See? Told you I was a multitasking queen.”

You roll your eyes, setting the sheet down. “This isn’t about just getting by, Yunjin. If you actually put in the effort, you could do really well in this course. Maybe even excel.”

“Mm, but where’s the fun in that?” she teases, her tone light but her gaze sharper than usual. “You’re so serious all the time. Don’t you ever just… I don’t know, relax?”

“This isn’t about me,” you reply, sidestepping the question. “This is about you passing your exam.”

She leans back, her smile widening. “You’re really committed to this whole responsible TA thing, huh? It’s kind of cute.”

You stiffen slightly at the word, but she doesn’t give you time to respond.

“Don’t worry,” she adds, grabbing her phone and flipping it over in her hands. “Like I said: I’ll pass. I always do.”

You let out a breath, half-exasperated, half-resigned. “You can’t just coast through everything, Yunjin.”

“Why not?” she asks, her tone light but her gaze steady. “It’s been working pretty well so far.”

You open your mouth to argue, but the words catch in your throat. For a moment, it feels like she’s challenging you, testing you, waiting to see how far you’ll push back.

You clear your throat, breaking the tension. “Next time, we’ll cover case studies. Real-world applications.”

She laughs, standing and stretching lazily. “Sure thing, professor. Can’t wait.”

As she walks out, phone already in hand, you sigh in relief that this session is over.

—

The apartment feels particularly quiet tonight, the faint hum of your desk lamp filling the space as you sift through a mountain of notes and research papers. It’s Friday, but for you, that doesn’t mean a night out or some kind of social escapade. It means working on your thesis, chipping away at the endless grind that defines grad school life. A cup of lukewarm coffee sits forgotten by your elbow, the words on the page starting to blur together.

Your phone buzzes against the table, a sudden break in the monotony. You glance at the screen, expecting some automated notification or maybe a text from one of your few friends. Instead, it’s from Yunjin.

Hey, I need your opinion on something.

You blink at the message, confused. It’s late—too late for anything academic, and even if it weren’t, why would she need your opinion? You tap out a quick reply, keeping it neutral.

I think you sent this to the wrong person.

Her response comes almost immediately.

Nope. It’s for you. You’re my TA, right? You’re supposed to help me with stuff.

You frown, staring at the screen. This has nothing to do with schoolwork. You type back, trying to keep your tone professional.

My number is for college purposes only. If you have a question about the material, we can go over it during our next session.

But she’s not backing down.

This is important. What should I wear to a party?

Before you can even think of how to respond, a picture pops up in the chat.

It’s her, of course. She’s standing in front of a mirror, holding her phone up to capture the shot. She’s wearing a tight, shimmery silver dress that clings to her body, hugging her curves in a way that makes it impossible to look away. Her hair falls perfectly over her shoulders, and the slit in the dress shows off one of her legs, long and toned.

Your mouth goes dry, and you look away from the screen, as if that might undo the fact that you’ve seen it. Another buzz.

Or this one?

You glance back despite yourself. The next picture shows her in a cropped black top and a leather mini skirt, her midriff on full display. Her lips are slightly parted in the photo, her eyes half-lidded, like she’s halfway into the party already.

You sit back in your chair, running a hand over your face. What the hell is she doing? This is completely inappropriate. You’re her teaching assistant, not her personal stylist. You type out another reply, this one more curt.

Yunjin, this isn’t appropriate. My role is strictly academic. I can’t help you with this.

But she’s relentless.

Relax, it’s no big deal. Just tell me which one’s better. It’s not like I’m asking you to come to the party.

Your phone buzzes again. A third picture.

This time, she’s in a red dress that’s somehow even more daring than the others. The neckline plunges low, the hemline barely brushing her thighs. She’s biting her lip in this one, a playful glint in her eyes that makes your stomach twist.

You clench your jaw, forcing yourself to focus. You’re not going to get dragged into whatever game she’s playing. You reply quickly, keeping your tone as detached as possible.

The black one is fine. Have fun.

Her response comes almost instantly.

I knew you’d like that one 😏

You exhale sharply, annoyed at yourself for even engaging with this. Your hands hover over the keyboard, trying to think of a way to end this conversation. But before you can, another message pops up.

I already miss our fun study sessions, you know. You’re so serious all the time—it’s cute.

You grip your phone tightly, trying to keep your temper in check. She’s toying with you, that much is obvious. You remind yourself she’s just a student—an infuriating, distracting student who doesn’t seem to understand boundaries.

Don’t party too hard. And remember to study.

Her reply is quick, as if she’s been waiting for it.

You’re such a buzzkill, professor. See you next week 😘

You set your phone down, staring at it like it might explode. Things are only getting worse, and you fear what's yet to come.

—

The moment you step into the office, you’re greeted by the familiar sight of Yunjin lounging in her chair like she’s waiting for a casual coffee date, not an academic session. Today, her outfit is as striking as ever—a snug, low-cut blouse paired with a skirt that rides just high enough to make you uncomfortable. She’s scrolling through her phone, as always, her attention miles away from the materials you’ve prepared.

“Good afternoon,” you say, trying to inject some authority into your tone as you set your bag down on the desk.

She glances up briefly, flashing you that disarming smile. “Hey, professor.”

“Not a professor,” you mutter, shaking your head. “Ready to get started?”

“Always,” she replies, but the way she lazily props her chin on her hand suggests otherwise.

You pull out the case study you’ve prepared, laying out the printed pages in front of you. “Today, we’re focusing on real-world applications. Case studies are a key part of the exam, so—”

Her phone buzzes, and she glances down, her fingers flying across the screen as she types out a reply. You stop mid-sentence, your patience already wearing thin.

“Yunjin,” you say sharply, and her eyes flick up to meet yours, wide and innocent.

“What? I’m listening.”

“No, you’re not. You’re on your phone. Again.”

She smirks, leaning back in her chair. “Okay, okay, you caught me. But in my defense, multitasking is a valuable skill in business, right?”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, exhaling slowly. “You need to focus. This material is important, and if you don’t take it seriously, you’re going to fail.”

She pouts, tilting her head to the side. “Maybe it’s just hard to focus because you’re way over there. Don’t you think it’d be easier if you sat next to me?”

You hesitate, eyeing the empty chair beside her. There’s something about the way she’s looking at you—half-teasing, half-challenging—that makes your skin prickle. But you can’t think of a valid excuse to say no, so with a resigned sigh, you pick up your notes and move to the seat beside her.

“Happy now?” you ask, your tone clipped.

“Much,” she says, her lips curving into a satisfied smile.

You try to steer the session back on track, pointing to the first section of the case study. “This example looks at how a small business expanded its market share by identifying underserved demographics—”

“Do I make you nervous?” she interrupts, her voice low and almost playful.

You freeze for a split second, caught off guard. “What?”

She leans in slightly, her hair brushing her shoulder as she studies you with an amused glint in her eyes. “You seem a little tense. Like I’m throwing you off your game.”

“I’m not nervous,” you reply stiffly, focusing on the papers in front of you.

“Mm-hmm,” she hums, clearly unconvinced. Her hand shifts on the table, and for a moment, her fingers brush against yours—light, fleeting, but enough to send a jolt through you.

You pull your hand back, pretending to adjust the papers. “Can we focus, please?”

“I am focused,” she says, feigning innocence. “But you’re not making it easy. Maybe if you loosened up a little—”

“Yunjin,” you cut her off, your tone sharper than you intended. “This isn’t a game. Either you take this seriously, or we’re wasting both our time.”

She blinks at you, her lips parting in mock surprise. “Wow, look at you, laying down the law. That’s kind of hot.”

You ignore the comment, flipping to the next section of the case study. “This part covers the importance of pricing strategy in competitive markets. I want you to read through it and summarize the key points.”

“Ugh, homework, really?” she groans, slumping in her chair.

“It’s not homework. It’s research,” you correct. “I expect you to come back with a full summary by—”

“Can’t I have, like, a week?” she interrupts, her tone dripping with exaggerated pleading.

“No,” you say firmly. “Three days.”

“Three days? Are you serious?”

“Yes. And if you keep complaining, I’ll make it two.”

Her eyes narrow, but there’s a spark of amusement behind the irritation. “You’re ruthless, professor.”

“Not a professor,” you mutter again, gathering your things. “And I’m serious about the deadline. If you want to pass, you need to put in the effort.”

She sighs dramatically, but there’s a playful edge to it. “Fine. You win. Three days.”

“Good. We can end it here. Use your free time to start your research.” You stand, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “I’ll see you at the next session.”

“Can’t wait,” she says, her smile lingering as you walk to the door.

—

The apartment feels like a safe haven when you finally stumble inside, just tipsy enough to make your head feel light but not so much that you’re completely out of it. The air smells faintly of leftover takeout and stale coffee, the way it always does after a long week. Your shoes hit the floor near the door, and you don’t bother picking them up. Instead, you head straight for the couch, collapsing with a heavy sigh.

You needed that night out—needed the drinks, the music, the laughter with friends. It wasn’t anything wild; just a low-key bar near campus, a few rounds of beer, and some half-baked attempts at catching up with everyone’s lives. But it was still more social interaction than you’d had in weeks. Between your own academic deadlines and the increasingly complicated ordeal of tutoring Yunjin, you’d been feeling stretched thin.

Yunjin. Of course, she slips into your thoughts now, the alcohol softening the usual mental barriers you keep firmly in place. She’s been a handful—distracting, playful, unpredictable. And yet, despite every attempt to keep things professional, you can’t stop thinking about her.

Reaching for your phone, you unlock it almost without realizing, falling into the familiar trap of social media scrolling. You tell yourself you’re just unwinding, but before long, you’re typing her name into the TikTok search bar.

Her profile lights up the screen, her most recent video already autoplaying. It’s her dancing again, this time in a sleek black dress that hugs her figure in all the right places. She moves effortlessly to the beat, her smile teasing, her gaze aimed directly at the camera. She looks… stunning.

You swipe to the next video, then the next, each one somehow more captivating than the last. It’s like she knows exactly how to grab attention, how to hold it. Your head feels warm, your thoughts fuzzy as you watch her, your focus narrowing down to just her.

When you finally snap out of it, guilt crashes over you like a wave. What the hell are you doing? You close the app, shaking your head, but the image of her lingers, burned into your mind.

Maybe something else will clear your head. You open Instagram, her profile is the first suggestion, she's posted new stories, but you don't dare watch them. You refuse to give her the satisfaction of knowing you're checking up on her. So, you settle for mindlessly scrolling through her feed, trying not to linger on any one post for too long, until you remember Twitter—X, as you don't like to call it.

The one platform you still use regularly. You tell yourself it’s just to check the news or see what your friends are up to, but before you know it, you’re scrolling through Yunjin’s tweets.

“Some guys are so oblivious it’s cute 🙄💖”

Your heart skips a beat. You scroll down, only to find more.

“It’s kind of cute, though. Watching him pretend he’s not into me. Playing hard to get? Or just clueless?”

Another tweet.

“Bet he’s thinking about me right now. ;)”

You swallow hard, your thumb hovering over the screen. Is she… talking about you? No, that’s ridiculous. She’s a student. You’re her TA. But the way she’s been acting—the teasing, the flirting, the way she always seems to have you off-balance—it’s hard not to wonder. Still, you tell yourself it’s just a coincidence. There’s no way she’s—

And then it happens. Your thumb slips, tapping the heart icon before you even realize what you’ve done.

“Shit,” you mutter, staring at the bright red heart like it’s mocking you. Your pulse spikes as you fumble to undo it, the screen blurring for a second as you scramble to fix your mistake. You tap the heart again, the red disappearing, but the damage is done. But has she already seen it? Does Twitter even notify people that fast? Your heart is pounding, your brain racing through worst-case scenarios.

You toss your phone onto the couch, running a hand through your hair. Maybe she didn’t notice. Maybe she’s busy. Maybe, for once, luck will be on your side.

But as you sit there, the room spinning slightly, the thought nags at you. What if she knows? What if this is exactly the kind of confirmation she’s been waiting for?

The alcohol isn’t helping. It’s making everything feel bigger, heavier, more immediate. You grab your phone again, staring at the screen like it might offer you answers. But there’s nothing. No notifications, no messages.

You drop your head into your hands, groaning softly. You’re not helping yourself in this situation.

—

The door feels heavier than usual as you push it open, the familiar office waiting for you inside. You’re gripping your bag tightly, trying to shake off the nerves that have been building since last night. The tweets, the like, the un-like—it’s been on your mind nonstop. But you keep telling yourself she didn’t notice. She couldn’t have.

The air is warmer today, and as usual, Yunjin is already seated, legs crossed, phone in hand. She’s wearing a fitted blouse with the top buttons undone and a pleated skirt that rides high on her thighs, her usual flair for turning any setting into her personal stage.

“Good afternoon,” you say, your voice coming out strained despite your best effort to sound composed.

“Hey, professor,” she greets, glancing up with a lazy smile before setting her phone down. “Oh, wait. Not a professor. Just my very dedicated teaching assistant.”

You ignore the tease, sitting at your usual spot across the table. “I assume you’ve brought the research I asked for?”

Her expression shifts, and she gives you a sheepish smile, leaning back in her chair. “About that…”

“Yunjin. Don’t tell me—”

“I didn’t finish it,” she says quickly, holding up her hands as if to ward off your reaction. “The deadline was so short! And I had other stuff going on. It’s not like I didn’t try—I just couldn’t get it done in time.”

You lean back in your chair, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You promised to take this seriously.”

“I am taking it seriously,” she insists, though her tone is more casual than apologetic. “It’s just… you didn’t give me much time.”

“That’s because this is supposed to be a priority,” you snap, unable to hide your frustration.

She pouts slightly, leaning forward. “Look, I’ll finish it. I’ll email it to you later tonight. Then we can talk about it during the next session. Deal?”

You exhale sharply, clearly irritated, but you nod. “Fine. But only because I don’t want to waste today.”

“Thanks, professor,” she says, her smile returning, bright and unbothered.

You pull out her last exam, sliding it across the table. “Let’s go over this instead. Your answers weren’t terrible, but they were surface-level. You’re missing depth, and that’s going to hurt you in the final.”

She groans softly but leans forward, propping her chin on her hand. “Okay, fine. Teach me.”

As you begin reviewing her answers, pointing out areas for improvement, she suddenly interrupts. “Can you sit next to me? It’s easier to see the paper that way.”

You hesitate for a moment before moving to the chair beside her, trying not to overthink it. She scoots closer, and you force yourself to focus on the exam in front of you, walking her through the corrections.

To your surprise, she’s paying attention for once, asking questions and even jotting down notes. But every so often, you catch her looking at you, her lips curving into a small smile when your eyes meet. It’s distracting—too distracting.

“Are you even listening?” you ask, your tone sharper than intended.

“Of course,” she replies, her smile widening. “I just like how serious you look when you’re explaining stuff. It’s cute.”

You ignore the comment, pushing through the rest of the review until, finally, the session is over. Relief washes over you as you start packing up, eager to put distance between you and the lingering tension in the room.

“Well, I’ll see you next time,” you say, standing and slinging your bag over your shoulder.

But just as you’re about to leave, Yunjin speaks up. “Oh, by the way…”

You pause, turning back to her. “What?”

Her smile turns sly, her gaze locking onto yours. “I know you’ve been stalking me.”

Your heart skips a beat, panic rising in your chest. “What are you talking about?”

She leans back in her chair, crossing her legs casually. “Twitter, professor. You liked my tweet last night. Even if you un-liked it right after, I still got the notification.”

Your face flushes hot, and you stammer out a denial. “That was—it was an accident. I wasn’t stalking you.”

“Mm-hmm,” she hums, clearly amused. “Sure, it was an accident. But you’ve been watching my TikToks too, haven’t you? Don’t worry, I don’t mind. I mean, you must like what you see, right?”

“Yunjin,” you say sharply, trying to regain control of the situation. “This is inappropriate.”

“Inappropriate?” she echoes, feigning innocence. “You’re the one watching my videos. I’m just offering to help.”

She leans forward slightly, her voice dropping to a playful murmur. “There are some pictures I can’t post online, but if you’re interested, I could send them to you directly. Just say the word.”

Your throat feels tight, your heart pounding in your ears. “Enough,” you say, your voice firm despite your growing discomfort. “This conversation is over. Focus on finishing your research, and I’ll see you at the next session.”

Before she can respond, you turn and leave, the door clicking shut behind you. Your pulse is racing as you walk down the hallway, the weight of her words pressing heavily on your chest. Whatever game Yunjin is playing, you need to figure out how to stop her, because she's winning. And she knows it.

—

The meeting room is stuffy, filled with the low hum of conversation as teachers and teaching assistants shuffle through papers, laptops glowing on the table. Discussions blur together—deadlines, assignment structures, grading systems. It’s a routine part of the job, but today, the monotony feels heavier than usual. You’ve barely slept, and the endless logistics are starting to drag you down.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, a tiny lifeline in the sea of boredom. Pulling it out discreetly, you glance at the screen. The message is from Yunjin, which immediately gets your attention. Maybe she’s finally sent the research.

You unlock the screen, expecting a quick note about emailing the document. Instead, you freeze.

The photo stares back at you, and for a moment, your brain short-circuits. Yunjin is lying on a bed, her body draped in sheer lingerie that leaves almost nothing to the imagination. Her lips are pouty, glossy, her eyes half-lidded as she gazes directly into the camera. The curve of her hips, the delicate lace barely covering her small breasts—you almost drop your phone on the floor.

Your stomach twists in a mix of shock and something far more raw.

You glance up quickly, scanning the room. No one’s looking at you—everyone’s absorbed in their own work. But the heat rising in your face makes you paranoid. You tilt your phone slightly, shielding the screen from view, and scroll down, hoping for clarification.

Another photo.

This time, the angle is wider, showing her sprawled on her bed with a laptop propped up in front of her. The message accompanying it reads:

Finishing my research. Thought you’d want proof I’m working hard 😉

The sheer lingerie is even more revealing in this shot, the delicate fabric hugging her curves, the way her breasts press against the lace, the faint outline of her nipples—it’s too much. Your dick stirs in your pants, completely out of your control, and you have to shift in your seat to keep yourself from reacting further.

You type back quickly, keeping your tone as neutral as possible.

You didn’t need to send pictures. Just the research would’ve been fine.

Her reply is almost instant.

But I wanted to show you I’m putting in the effort. Don’t you think I deserve a little reward?

Your pulse spikes, and you grip your phone tighter. What the hell is she doing? You take a slow breath, forcing yourself to focus.

Your reward will be getting an A on the exam. That’s the goal, right?

Her response is teasing, playful.

Oh, I’ve got another exam I want an A on. And I know I can ace it.

Your jaw clenches, and you shift uncomfortably in your seat, trying to keep your expression neutral as you glance around the room again. No one seems to notice your distraction, but the heat creeping up your neck makes you feel exposed.

You type back, your fingers moving quickly.

Just focus on finishing the research. That’s all that matters right now.

She doesn’t back down.

Fine, but don’t forget about my reward, professor. I worked really hard on this, you know.

Before you can think it through, your fingers type a reply that surprises even you.

I’ll think about it later.

Her next message comes with a string of emojis—a cheer, a wink, a heart. Then:

Yay! You’re the best 🥰. Don’t stress too much, okay?

You set your phone down, turning it face-down on the table like that might somehow erase the conversation from existence. But the damage is done. Your heart is pounding, your mind racing, and the tension in your body is impossible to ignore.

What the hell are you doing? You’re losing control of the situation—of yourself—and Yunjin knows it. She’s toying with you, testing your boundaries, and the worst part is, you can’t seem to stop her.

—

The air feels charged the moment you step into the office. Yunjin’s sitting there, but there’s something different about her today—her confidence is practically radiating off her. She’s wearing a strapless crop top that clings to her figure, showing her toned stomach, and a skirt so short it rides high on her thighs when she crosses her legs. Her hair is styled to perfection, glossy and smooth, and her lips are painted a shade of red that’s just subtle enough to feel dangerous.

You swallow hard, trying to keep your composure. The memory of her last text conversation is still fresh, and you can feel the weight of it pressing down on you. But this is supposed to be a professional setting. You remind yourself of that as you set your bag down on the table and pull out her research paper that you printed.

“Well,” you begin, keeping your tone steady. “I have to say, I’m impressed. You really outdid yourself with this.”

Her smile widens, and she leans forward slightly in her chair. “You really think so?”

“I do,” you admit, holding up the paper. “You dug into the material, analyzed it well. It’s thorough. If you put this much effort into your exam, you’ll have no problem passing.”

She stands then, smooth and deliberate, and your chest tightens as she closes the distance between you. “When I thought about how proud you’d be,” she says, her voice soft and teasing, “I couldn’t help but try a little harder.”

You lean against the table, trying to create some distance, but it doesn’t help. She’s right there, standing just close enough for you to catch the faint scent of her perfume.

“This is our last session before the exam,” you say, your voice tight. “Let’s focus on going over your research. We’ll review the points you brought—”

Before you can finish, she reaches out and snatches the paper from your hand. Her eyes gleam with mischief as she steps even closer, tilting her head to look up at you.

“What about my reward?” she asks, her voice dropping into a lower, sultrier tone.

Your blood heats instantly, your pulse pounding in your ears. You take a sharp breath, trying to push the rising tide of desire back down. “Yunjin,” you say, your tone edged with warning. “We don’t have time for this. Your exam is right around the corner—”

“Forget about the damn exam,” she interrupts, her voice firm but still teasing. “I don’t care about that right now.”

Her finger presses lightly against your chest, trailing downward over your shirt. The touch is electric, sending sparks down your spine, and for a moment, you can’t move.

“Yunjin,” you whisper, her name catching in your throat.

She steps closer, her body brushing yours, her lips curving into that maddening smile. “Stop pretending you’re not into me,” she murmurs.

“This is unethical,” you say, your voice strained, but even you can hear the weakness in it.

“No one has to know,” she counters, her finger still moving slowly down your chest. Her voice drops again, turning into a near whisper. “What did you do with the pictures I sent you? Hm?”

You freeze, your breath catching.

“I bet you jerked off to them,” she continues, her words deliberate and slow. “I bet you imagined me on that bed, in that lingerie. I bet you imagined fucking me.”

It’s too much. The tension, the temptation, the way she’s looking at you with those half-lidded eyes—it all boils over. Before you can stop yourself, you grab her, your hands gripping her waist as you kiss her hard.

She gasps softly against your mouth, her body tensing in surprise, but she recovers quickly, her hands sliding up to your shoulders as she kisses you back with just as much heat. Her lips are soft and plush, tasting faintly of gloss, and the way she moves against you is intoxicating.

Your hands move instinctively, one sliding up her back while the other presses against her hip. Her skin is warm beneath the thin fabric of her top, and the closeness of her body only stokes the fire burning inside you.

Without breaking the kiss, you guide her toward the door, fumbling with the lock until you hear the satisfying click. It’s only then that you let yourself acknowledge what’s happening, fully giving in to the need that’s been building for weeks.

She pulls back slightly, her breath coming in quick gasps as she looks up at you, her eyes wide and dark with desire.

“This what you wanted?” you ask, your voice rough, your hands still holding her tightly.

She smiles, slow and wicked. “Yes,” she whispers.

Your grip tightens on her waist, and you push her back against the wall, your lips finding hers again with even more urgency. Her hands slide up into your hair, tugging lightly, and the sensation sends a shiver down your spine.

This girl—she’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced. You’ve never wanted someone this badly, never felt this out of control. And for once, you don’t care.

Your hands fumble with the belt at your waist, the leather slipping through the loops as you tug it free with an urgency that borders on desperation. The metal buckle clinks loudly in the otherwise silent room, and Yunjin smiles, leaning back against the wall, looking so damn pleased with herself. Her lips are parted, her chest rising and falling in anticipation, and that smug expression on her face only makes the heat inside you burn hotter.

“You have no idea how much you’ve been driving me fucking crazy,” you growl, your voice low and rough, barely able to contain the frustration and desire that have been building for what feels like forever.

Her smile turns into a wicked grin, her eyes gleaming with triumph. “Then show me,” she whispers, her voice soft but daring. “Show me how crazy I’ve made you.”

You shove your pants down, along with your boxers, kicking them off with your shoes in one quick motion. Your cock springs free, hard and aching, the weight of it hanging heavy between your legs. The cool air against your skin only heightens the tension crackling in the room.

Yunjin’s eyes drop immediately, her tongue flicking over her lips as she takes you in, and for once, she doesn’t say a word. She doesn’t have to. The look on her face says it all.

Your hands move to her hips, and you yank her skirt up roughly, the fabric bunching around her waist. That’s when you see it—she’s not wearing any panties. Nothing at all. The curve of her bare ass, the glistening heat between her thighs, it’s all there, shamelessly on display.

“You little whore,” you hiss, your fingers digging into her soft flesh.

“Yes,” she breathes, arching her back and pressing her ass against you. “I am. I’ve been waiting for you to finally notice.”

“Well, you’ve got my attention now,” you snap, your voice heavy with a mix of irritation and raw lust.

Without another word, you drop to your knees, grabbing her hips to steady her as you position yourself behind her. Her ass is sticking out, her body pressed against the wall, her legs slightly parted. The sight of her like this, so willing, so ready—it’s almost too much.

You spread her cheeks, exposing her fully to you, and you’re met with the sight of her pussy, already slick and glistening, her arousal shining in the dim light of the room. The smell of her hits you instantly—sweet and musky, intoxicating.

Leaning in, you drag your tongue over her folds, slow and deliberate, tasting her for the first time. She gasps, her body jerking slightly at the contact, and her hands press against the wall for support.

“Fuck,” she moans, her voice high and needy. “More.”

You don’t hesitate. You bury your face between her thighs, your tongue sliding through her wetness, exploring every inch of her. You flick your tongue over her clit, and she lets out a loud, breathy moan, her hips grinding back against your face.

Her taste is addictive, her slick heat coating your lips and tongue as you work her over. You grip her thighs, spreading her wider, giving yourself more access as you suck her clit into your mouth, rolling your tongue over the sensitive nub.

“Shit, that feels so good,” she whimpers, her voice breathless. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

You hum against her, the vibration making her gasp again, and you dive back in, fucking her with your tongue before moving back to her clit. She’s dripping now, her juices slicking your chin, but you don’t care. All you can think about is how good she tastes, how perfect she feels under your tongue.

Her moans grow louder, more desperate, her fingers curling against the wall as she pushes her hips back, practically riding your face. “Yes, fuck, just like that,” she cries, her voice breaking. “More. I need more.”

And you give it to her. Your fingers dig into Yunjin’s soft, perfect ass, the same one you’ve seen flaunted all over Instagram and TikTok—dancing, teasing, making you want something you shouldn't. But now it's here, in your hands, trembling under your touch as your tongue drags through her soaked folds again. She's moaning, gasping, her body pressing harder into the wall, and you can feel the way she’s falling apart, unraveling under your mouth.

“Oh fuck, professor,” she gasps, her voice dripping with something between amusement and desperation. You know she’s doing it on purpose—calling you that even though you’re just the teaching assistant, pushing buttons, seeing how far she can take it now that you’ve finally snapped.

You don’t care anymore.

Your grip tightens, fingers sinking into her flesh possessively, your tongue working faster, harder. Yunjin’s hips jerk, her thighs quivering, and she whines, that high-pitched, needy sound that makes your cock throb painfully with desire. Her juices are all over your mouth, dripping down your chin, and you don’t stop, don’t let up, because you need her to know she’s not in control anymore.

“I knew you'd be good at this,” she breathes, pushing her hips back into your face, rocking against you shamelessly. “All that self-control... gone.”

You groan into her, the vibrations making her moan louder, her fingers clawing at the wall for support. She's a mess, squirming, panting, but you pull back suddenly.

She gasps, looking over her shoulder with a half-lidded, fucked-out expression. “W-why’d you stop?”

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, your lips glistening with her slick, your chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. “Because I need more.”

Before she can say anything, you're standing up, pressing your body against hers, the heat of her skin making everything more real, more alive. Your hands grab her hips roughly, and you feel her shiver when your cock, hard and aching, presses against the dripping heat between her thighs.

She lets out a sharp gasp when you slide the tip in, her pussy so tight, squeezing you instantly, and yet so slick from your mouth that you slide deeper without resistance. Her hands slam against the wall, her mouth falling open in shock. “Oh, fuck, you—you're so—”

You don’t let her finish. You grip her waist and thrust in deeper, stretching her inch by inch, and she melts against you, her breathy moans echoing in the small office. Her tight heat wraps around you perfectly, and it’s fucking perfect, the way she clenches down, her body welcoming you with every movement.

“You didn’t think I’d actually fuck you like this, did you?” you murmur against her ear, your voice rough, dark.

She whimpers, pushing back against you, her nails scratching the wall. “I hoped,” she gasps, her voice breaking when you thrust harder, slamming her hips against the wall. “I wanted you to, so fucking bad—”

Your grip on her tightens, your hands roaming over her body, gripping her hips, her waist, her ass—claiming her, branding her. She’s yours now, and she knows it.

“Then take it,” you growl, pounding into her harder, your hips slamming against hers. Yunjin cries out, her body arching, her head falling back against your shoulder as she surrenders completely.

She's giving herself to you, and you take everything.

Your hips snap forward, slamming into Yunjin’s tight, slick pussy with a rhythm that grows rougher, harder, more desperate by the second. Her moans are high and breathless, rising with each thrust.

But it’s not enough.

Your hands slide up her body, greedy and possessive, until they reach her small, almost-flat chest. The crop top she’s wearing clings to her like a second skin, and it’s been driving you insane since you entered the room. She had to do this—she had to tease you, prance around in those tiny fucking tops like she didn’t know exactly what she was doing.

Gripping the hem, you yank it down roughly, baring her breasts in one swift motion. They’re small, just barely enough to fill your hands, but perfect. Perfect in a way that makes your head spin. Her nipples are already hard, tight little buds that beg for your attention, and you don’t hold back.

“God, I’ve been imagining this,” you growl, cupping her tits, rolling her nipples between your fingers. The soft gasp that leaves her lips only spurs you on, your voice dark and raw. “Ever since the first day I saw you in one of these slutty little tops. I wanted to do this. I wanted to see these tits—these fucking perfect tits you love to show off.”

Yunjin cries out, arching her back, pushing her chest into your hands. “Fuck,” she gasps, her voice trembling with pleasure. “I knew you wanted me, professor. I could feel it. And now you’ve got me. You’ve got me so fucking wet.”

Your cock twitches inside her at her words, and you thrust harder, making her yelp, her thighs shaking against you. “You’re the kind of girl who drives me insane,” you admit, your hands still kneading her breasts, tugging her nipples, making her moan louder.

“Yeah?” she pants, turning her head to look at you over her shoulder, her eyes dark with lust. “Am I your type? Is that it? You like slutty girls like me?”

You groan, your hands sliding down to her waist, gripping her tightly as you fuck her harder. “Yes,” you growl through clenched teeth. “That’s the fucking problem. Girls like you—slutty little teases who know exactly what they’re doing—drive me out of my goddamn mind.”

She lets out a choked laugh, her head dropping forward as you hammer into her, her body jolting against the wall. “Then go crazy,” she whispers, her voice dripping with challenge.

Something in you snaps. You pull out suddenly, ignoring her whimper of protest, and grab her roughly by the hips. Turning her around, you lift her onto the table in one swift motion, throwing her onto her back with no hesitation. Her skirt is still bunched around her waist, and her crop top is shoved down, her bare tits on full display as she sprawls out in front of you.

You lean over her, grabbing one of her breasts and taking the nipple into your mouth, sucking hard. Yunjin cries out, her back arching off the table, her hands flying to your hair as she holds you there.

“Oh my god,” she moans, her voice shaking. “Yes, yes, suck them. Fuck, that feels so good—”

You switch to the other nipple, your tongue flicking over the hardened peak before you suck it into your mouth, drawing another loud, breathless moan from her. She’s squirming under you, her thighs spreading wider as her hands tug at your hair, desperate for more.

When you finally pull back, her chest is heaving, her skin flushed, her lips parted in a way that makes your cock throb. You grip her hips, dragging her to the edge of the table, and position yourself between her legs.

The sight of her like this—her skirt pushed up, her top pulled down, her bare tits rising and falling with every shaky breath—is enough to make you lose what little control you have left. She looks like a slutty schoolgirl, and you can’t stop yourself from imagining her like that, teasing every teacher she’s ever had until she found one who finally gave in.

“You look like such a fucking slut,” you growl, lining yourself up and slamming into her in one hard thrust.

Yunjin cries out, her head falling back against the table, her hands flying to your arms as you grip her hips and start fucking her again. “I am,” she whimpers, her voice high and desperate. “I’m your slut.”

And that’s all you need to hear.

Your hips move like they have a mind of their own, pounding into Yunjin’s tight, soaking pussy with a relentless rhythm that leaves no space for hesitation. The way she moans—high, breathless, desperate—fuels you, makes you fuck her harder, deeper, chasing that feeling of being completely lost in her.

She’s gripping the edges of the table, her knuckles white, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her eyes are hazy, lips parted, and the way pleasure takes over her face is fucking intoxicating.

“F-fuck,” she gasps, her voice trembling as you keep slamming into her, your cock stretching her perfectly. “If you keep—keep going like this, I’m gonna—”

“That’s the point,” you growl, leaning over her, your hands tightening on her thighs as you thrust even harder. “Cum on my cock, Yunjin. I want to feel it.”

“Fuck, professor,” she moans, rolling her hips up to meet your every thrust, and hearing that word spill from her lips so naturally drives you fucking crazy. She loves calling you that, loves the way it sounds when she’s this desperate and fucked out.

Your thumb finds her clit, still sensitive from the way your mouth had worked her over earlier, and the second you press down, she nearly jumps off the table.

“Oh my God,” she whimpers, squirming under you, her body tensing. “Too much—fuck, that’s so—”

But you don’t stop. You rub tight circles over her clit, making her thighs tremble around your waist, and the louder she moans, the harder you fuck her. You forget everything—where you are, what you’re doing. You don’t care that you're in a office, on campus, where anyone could hear. All you care about is making her cum.

“Cum for me,” you demand, your voice rough, your cock throbbing inside her. “Come on, slut. Cum all over my cock.”

“I’m—I’m almost—” Her voice breaks, and her whole body tightens, her pussy clenching down around you so hard it makes your own pleasure spike.

Your thrusts grow even faster, each one hitting so deep it leaves her gasping, and her wetness makes everything filthy, each slap of your hips against her sounding louder, slicker. The obscene noise fills the room, but you’re too far gone to care.

And then she breaks.

Her entire body shudders, her back arching off the table as she covers her mouth with one trembling hand, muffling the scream that threatens to spill out. Her pussy clenches around you, pulsing with each wave of pleasure that rocks through her, and you keep fucking her through it, driving slow, deep thrusts into her shaking body.

Each slow pull out, each hard thrust back in, sends a jolt through her, making her whimper into her palm, her eyes squeezed shut as the aftershocks keep rolling through her.

You finally slow down, your cock still throbbing inside her, soaked in everything she’s given you. You pull out slowly, watching the way her pussy clings to you, reluctant to let go.

“On your knees,” you order, your voice thick and wrecked.

She’s still trembling, but she slides off the table, her legs shaky as she sinks down in front of you, eyes dark with lust, lips swollen from all her moaning. She looks up at you through heavy lashes, her skirt still bunched up, her top still tugged down, her tits out and flushed.

She grabs your cock with both hands, stroking it once, twice, and the sight of her, kneeling, covered in her own arousal, makes you think you should have fucked her sooner.

Then her lips part, and she wraps them around the head of your cock, sucking you in with that perfect, practiced mouth.

“Fuck,” you hiss, your hand tangling in her hair, guiding her as she takes more of you in. Her lips leave smudges of lipstick along your shaft, marking you, staining you with that perfect, slutty red.

She moans around you, her tongue swirling, and you watch as she bobs her head, her mouth stretching to accommodate you. It’s hot—so fucking hot—the way she’s so eager, so desperate to taste herself on your cock.

“Good girl,” you murmur, your grip tightening on her hair as you guide her pace. “Suck it all, baby.”

Yunjin hums in response, the vibrations making you groan, and you know you’re not going to last much longer.

Yunjin’s mouth is a fucking masterpiece. Her plump, wet lips glide over your cock with a skill that has you gripping the edge of the table for support. Drool drips down her chin, slick and messy, pooling at the corners of her mouth as she takes you deeper, her throat flexing around your length. The obscene, wet sounds echo in the quiet room, each suck, each moan sending shockwaves straight to your core.

She’s a mess, lipstick smeared, saliva glistening on her chin and trailing down her neck, but she doesn’t stop. If anything, she gets sloppier, filthier, letting spit dribble down your shaft as she strokes you with both hands, twisting, squeezing, making sure you're soaked in her mess.

“Fuck, Yunjin,” you groan, your hand tangled in her hair, guiding her movements. “Just like that. Keep going.”

She hums around you, the vibration making your thighs tense. Then, without warning, she moves lower, dragging her slick tongue down to your balls, sucking one into her mouth while still jerking your cock. The way her tongue swirls around them, wet and warm, sends you reeling, your cock twitching in her grip.

Your head falls back, a low, guttural groan slipping past your lips. She knows exactly what she’s doing, taking her time, teasing, drawing it out until you’re on the verge of losing control.

Then she’s back on your cock, focusing on the sensitive head, sucking hard, her tongue flicking over the slit, drawing out beads of pre-cum. Wet, obscene noises fill the air, her lips working you with relentless precision.

“I’m close,” you grit out, your muscles tensing, your whole body tightening in anticipation.

But just when you think you’re about to explode, she pulls off with a pop, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, her lipstick smeared across her flushed skin, drool glistening on her chin. She looks up at you, eyes dark and needy, lips swollen and shining.

“Cum inside me,” she says, her voice dripping with sin. “I want it. I’m on the pill, so don’t hold back.”

That's all you need to hear. No hesitation. No second thoughts. You’re on her in an instant, hauling her up off her knees, your hands gripping her thighs as you carry her to the chair in the corner of the room. You drop into it, pulling her onto your lap, her legs straddling you.

She doesn’t waste a second. She reaches between you, grabbing your slick, throbbing cock and guiding it back inside her dripping pussy. The heat, the tightness, the way she sinks down onto you in one smooth motion makes your head spin.

“Fuck,” you hiss, your hands gripping her hips, feeling the way she clenches around you, wetter than before thanks to the sloppy blowjob she just gave you.

Yunjin smirks, rolling her hips in slow, deliberate circles, grinding down on you in a way that has you seeing stars. “Feel good, professor?” she purrs, her hands resting on your shoulders for balance. “You like when your little slut rides you?”

You groan, your grip tightening, but she doesn’t let up. She starts moving, bouncing on your cock with an intoxicating rhythm, her tight pussy swallowing you over and over. The way her hips roll, the way she grinds down between thrusts—it’s hypnotic, like she was made for this. Like she’s done this a million times before.

“Fuck, you know exactly what you’re doing,” you pant, your head falling back against the chair.

“Of course I do,” she whispers, leaning in close, her lips brushing against your ear. “I know how to fuck. I know how to make you cum.”

Your whole body tightens, the pressure building to a breaking point as Yunjin rides you with that perfect, relentless rhythm. Her hips roll in slow, deep circles, grinding down on your cock like she owns it, like she knows exactly what you need. The wet, obscene sounds of your bodies colliding fill the room, her slick pussy squeezing you with every bounce, pulling you deeper, tighter.

She leans in, her breath hot against your ear, her voice a low, breathy whisper. “You’re gonna cum, aren’t you?”

Your grip on her hips tightens, fingers digging into her soft skin, trying to hold on as pleasure coils tighter and tighter inside you. “Fuck, Yunjin,” you groan, your voice rough and strained, barely holding it together.

She bites her lip, looking down at you with dark, knowing eyes. “I can feel it,” she purrs, rocking her hips down hard, her wet heat swallowing you to the hilt. “You’re so fucking close.”

You nod, chest heaving, your breath ragged. “Yeah—shit, I’m—”

“Cum inside me,” she interrupts, grinding her hips down with a sinful twist that sends sparks shooting through your spine. “I want it, professor. Fill me up.”

Her words make you moan, tearing down whatever restraint you had left. Your cock throbs inside her, and you feel yourself teetering right on the edge, so close you can’t even think straight.

“Creampie this tight little pussy,” she whispers, her lips brushing against your ear, her voice dripping with need. “I want to feel your hot, thick cum deep inside me. Come on professor, give me my reward.”

That’s it. That’s all it takes.

A strangled groan rips from your throat as you finally let go, your cock pulsing inside her, thick, hot spurts of cum spilling deep into her. Your whole body shudders, muscles going tight, and you bury your face against her neck, holding onto her like she’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

Yunjin gasps, feeling every pulse, every drop of warmth filling her. Her body trembles against yours, her nails raking lightly down your back as she moans into your ear, soft and breathless. “Oh my god,” she whimpers, her hips still moving, riding out your release, grinding slow and deep to milk every last drop from you.

You grip her tighter, pushing her down onto you as deep as she can go, wanting to make sure she takes every bit of it. “Fuck, Yunjin,” you pant, feeling the way her pussy clenches around you, still so impossibly tight. “You feel so fucking good.”

She moans in response, rolling her hips lazily, a satisfied, dazed smile spreading across her lips. “Mmm, I can feel it,” she whispers, her hands sliding up your chest, her fingers tracing over your skin. “You came so much.”

You groan, your hands slipping to her ass, gripping her firmly as you thrust up into her one last time, pushing your cum deeper inside. She lets out a sharp gasp, her head falling forward against your shoulder.

A few long moments pass before she finally stills, collapsing against you, her chest heaving, her skin slick with sweat. Your hands stay on her hips, holding her in place, keeping yourself buried inside her even as your cock twitches with oversensitivity. You can feel the warmth between her legs, the way your cum is starting to trickle out, leaking down onto your thighs, but she doesn’t move—doesn’t seem to care.

You don’t say anything for a moment, just holding her, feeling her heartbeat against yours. But then she lifts her head, that familiar, wicked grin spreading across her face.

“Guess I should call you professor more often,” she whispers, rolling her hips lazily.

You groan, your head falling back against the chair. “I can't believe I fucked a student.”

Yunjin laughs, pressing a soft, teasing kiss to your lips. “And you loved every second of it."

She stays perched on your, her bare thighs pressed against yours, her pussy still warm and slick around your softening cock. The lazy rise and fall of her chest, the way her messy hair frames her flushed face—it’s all so goddamn perfect. She looks at you with that smug little smile that’s both adorable and infuriating, her fingers tracing lazy patterns across your chest.

“So,” she purrs, tilting her head slightly, “what grade do I deserve for all my... hard work?”

You smirk, running your hands up her sides, feeling the heat of her skin beneath your fingertips. “An A,” you admit, your voice still ragged from everything she’s just put you through.

Her smile widens, and she leans in, pressing a slow, teasing kiss to your lips. “I know,” she whispers, cocky as ever. She fucking knows exactly what she’s doing to you, and that little glint in her eyes makes your heart race again.

She shifts slightly, grinding down just enough to remind you that she’s still there, still wrapped around you, and then she lowers her voice. “So... can I get an A on the exam too?”

And just like that, reality comes crashing back.

You freeze, the post-orgasm haze clearing just enough for the weight of what she’s asking to settle in. This was bound to happen, wasn’t it? The teasing, the flirting, the fucking—it was all leading to this. A transactional undercurrent beneath every sultry look, every professor she moaned while you fucked her in the office.

You swallow, your hands hesitating on her waist. “Yunjin,” you start, shaking your head slightly, “I... I can’t do that. I mean, I—”

She cuts you off by pressing a finger against your lips, her eyes locking onto yours, dark and full of something dangerous. “Yes, you can,” she murmurs, leaning in just enough for her lips to brush against your cheek, teasing, distracting. “Because you like me.”

You feel your resolve wavering, your mind screaming at you to push her away, to get up, to say no—but your body? Your body’s already leaning into her, already craving more.

“And,” she continues, trailing her finger down your chest, her voice dripping with sweet, poisonous temptation, “because I know you’ll want to fuck me again. Don’t you?”

Fuck.

She’s right. Of course she’s right.

Your jaw clenches, the internal battle raging inside you—ethics, professionalism, responsibility. But what are those compared to the feel of her? The way she’s looking at you, promising so much more with just a glance? You’ve already crossed a line so thick and deep there’s no point pretending you can step back now.

She senses your hesitation, and like the predator she is, she pounces.

Her lips are back on yours, slow and sensual, tasting like sin and triumph. She rolls her hips against you, and your cock twitches, traitorous and eager. “I’ll make it worth your while,” she whispers, lips brushing against your ear. “You think today was wild? I’ll show you things that’ll ruin you for anyone else.”

Your grip tightens on her hips instinctively, and your mouth moves before your brain can catch up. “What... what kind of things?”

Yunjin grins, leaning back to meet your gaze, her fingers playing with the collar of your shirt. “Oh, professor,” she teases, eyes gleaming, “you’ll just have to say yes to find out.”

You exhale sharply, your moral compass spinning wildly, but the truth is, it’s already broken.

Fuck ethics.

Fuck responsibility.

You want her. You want her more than you care about some stupid fucking exam.

Surrendering, you nod, a shy whisper. “Fine.”

Her eyes light up, and she lets out a delighted little laugh, her arms wrapping around your neck as she rocks her hips against you. “I knew you’d come around,” she purrs, nipping at your bottom lip. “You’re too easy.”

“You’re fucking evil,” you mutter, your hands gripping her ass tightly, fingers digging into the soft flesh.

She just grins. “And you fucking love it.”

You can’t argue. Not when she’s looking at you like that, like she owns you, because fuck—it sure feels like she does.

Yunjin shifts on your lap, moving in a slow, sensual grind that makes your head spin, and you groan, already hardening inside her again. “I guess I always manage to pass,” she murmurs, kissing along your jaw, “but in my own way.”

You shake your head, but there’s no fight left in you, only a deep, gnawing hunger for her. “You’re trouble,” you murmur, hands roaming her body again, already wanting more.

She smirks, pressing a kiss just below your ear. “I’m your trouble now.”

#yunjin smut #kpop m!reader #kpop male oc #kpop male reader #yunjin x male reader #yunjin le sserafim #yunjin #kpop smut #m!reader #gg smut #kpop gg smut #yunjin x reader #le sserafim smut #le sserafim yunjin

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navybrat817 · 5 months ago

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All Dressed Up

Pairing: Biker!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky visits a gallery to support his best friend and unexpectedly meets the girl of his dreams.

Word Count: Over 2.3k

Warnings: First meeting, mild dirty thoughts, instacrush, swearing, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Okay, lovelies. A new AU. I'm sorry. @targaryenvampireslayer @tavners @starlightcrystalline @whisperlullaby @sgt-seabass @vesearlee , I feel like you all either heard me screech, encouraged, or helped me, and I appreciate you. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo and divider by the incredible @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky didn’t dress up for most people since it wasn’t his style. He would do so for any of his brothers though, especially Steve. His best friend since childhood, and his club’s president, he always had a love and talent for drawing and painting. And after working his ass off on his exhibit it would’ve been a crime for the vice president not to show up.

Steve promised if there was ever a day when Bucky’s writing became published he’d be by his side to celebrate too. As much as they liked to give each other shit sometimes about art and how they created it, the support was there through and through. The only catch for tonight was that he had to dress nicely to get into the gallery. So, instead of the usual leather jacket or vest he wore and jeans, he went with a plain black suit and white button up shirt.

He refused to wear a tie since it wasn’t a wedding. He had to draw a line somewhere. No one paid him any mind though as they walked around the gallery, and he was more than fine with that. This wasn’t his night.

“You should be proud, punk,” Bucky said, looking over the art lining the large wall, each piece crafted with care.

“I am proud, jerk,” Steve smiled. He hadn’t worn a tie either, and it made Bucky feel a little better. “And you know you don’t have to stay the whole time.”

Bucky knew that. He also knew members and prospects would be trickling in and out throughout the evening. “Not needed at the bar tonight, so I can stay as long as I want. But I might cut out early since I see your face enough between that and the club.”

Steve chuckled. “Still haven’t sold the place, huh?”

The brunette sighed. It wasn’t the first time Steve asked if he was going to sell the bar to focus more on writing. “Where the hell would you all hang out if I sold the place?” He liked the bar. It wasn’t just a great hangout for the club, but for his other regulars, too.

“There are other bars,” Steve teased. He said that, but he loved the bar, too. “You know I just want you to-”

“Follow my compass. I know. You’ve said that so many…” He stopped talking when he saw an unexpected angel walk into the room.

Well, angel was the word that came to mind since you were wearing a white dress and the light over your head illuminated you like a halo. But as his eyes swept over you, he wondered if there was a bit of a devil in you. He wouldn’t mind bringing that side out of you if you gave him the chance.

And here he used to think love at first sight was bullshit.

“Hey. Do you know her?” Bucky subtly nodded in your direction as you spoke to another woman, jealousy flaring up for a second at the thought of his best friend knowing you and not telling him. And if you knew Steve, that was that before things even started. While the blonde didn’t have much game growing up, he came into his own after his growth spurt, and everyone adored or wanted him.

Steve shook his head. “No, I don’t,” he said, making Bucky’s shoulders slump in relief before his friend scrutinized him. “Jesus, are you eye fucking her? You are, aren’t you?”

Bucky wasn’t the least bit ashamed. “And I’ll keep doing it ‘til she looks at me,” he replied, wishing you’d at least spare him a glance and get a look at him in his nice suit. Maybe you weren’t into guys with tattoos and piercings, but he was certain he could change your mind if that was the case.

“How long has it been since you’ve been on a date?” Steve asked. “Just introduce yourself like a gentleman and see where that goes.”

“A couple of months? Something like that.” Tearing his gaze away to glance at his inked hands, he chuckled. “You think I’m a gentleman?”

He could be dangerous and downright dirty when the occasion called for it, but just because he rode a motorcycle and covered himself in tattoos and piercings didn’t mean he treated others poorly. He was raised better than that. Even with his ex-girlfriends, things never ended because he didn’t treat them well. They just weren’t the one.

“We both know you are. Sometimes,” Steve answered, smirking as a beat passed. “And she’s looking your way.”

Bucky’s head snapped up to find you looking right at him with a curious stare. You had the prettiest eyes he had ever seen. Which was nothing compared to your smile. It was like watching the sun slowly rise to meet the day.

Fuck, he was being sappy. You ruined him with a single stare, and he wanted to ruin you in return. Make it so you wouldn’t want another man.

You whispered something to the woman beside you before she nudged you forward and he realized Steve pushed him to move, too. It only took three more steps before he was right in front of you, the gentle smell of your sweet perfume filling his nostrils. Need slammed into his body as you smiled again, and he actually felt the blue of his eyes shrink as his pupils widened.

If Steve thought he was eye fucking you before…

“Hey,” he said, his voice raspier than usual.

“Hi,” you said. It was a voice he could listen to for hours and he wondered what it would sound like when you said his name.

“I’m Bucky.” He took a smaller step closer, trying his damnedest to block out any other man around him so you’d keep those pretty eyes on him.

You introduced yourself, too, and it was a name he would never forget. “I like your tattoos,” you added almost shyly. Almost.

If he had his way, you’d see the rest of them soon enough. “Thanks,” he smiled, holding one hand up to show you. “Dressed like this, I bet you think I’m part of the mob.” After getting dressed and adding the gold jewelry, even he thought for a split second he looked like a mobster.

“Are you or is that information I can’t be privy to?” you asked, making him chuckle. You didn’t skip a beat, and he liked that.

“Not part of the mob, but I am part of a motorcycle club,” he replied. He wore his patch with pride and that didn’t seem to scare you, which was good. “I also own a bar.” He didn’t know why added that part. You didn’t ask and he didn’t want to brag, but there he was.

“So, you ride a motorcycle, and you own a bar?” You glanced back at your friend to ask her, “Do you mind if I…”

“I’m good. You two talk,” your friend smiled, giving Bucky an encouraging wink. He looked back to find that Steve walked away, too.

You smiled as you faced Bucky again. “Well, I’m happy to hear more about either of those things if you have time.”

“Yeah.” A lopsided smile appeared before he could stop it. “I got time,” he said. All the time in the world.

Over the next hour, the two of you stayed close together and talked in between looking at Steve’s pieces. He told you he was there to support Steve and talked a little bit more about the bar he owned. A hole in the wall kind of place he fixed up. While he wasn’t a big drinker, he loved making them for his regulars, and his profession allowed him to get away with all the tattoos.

“I’ll have to stop by sometime,” you smiled before it faltered. “If that’s okay.”

He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but his heart raced, and he wanted to see you smile again. “I’ll hold you to that,” he teased. “What about you? What do you do for work?”

You told him that you were a blood bank nurse and still fairly new to the area. While you didn’t have too many friends nearby, you liked your neighborhood and the one friend you had made invited you to the gallery since she was an art enthusiast. You also let it slip that you were single upon your move here, which he was happy to hear since he was, too, but he didn’t miss the note of sadness in your voice.

He could help fix it if you were lonely.

“I’m not seeing anyone either,” he stated.

You raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “You don’t have an old lady?” His eyes went right to your lip when he bit it. “That is the correct term of endearment, right?”

“That’s right,” he said, his eyes soft. “Both of those things are right.”

You bit your lip again and he wasn’t sure if you were purposely trying to entice him, but now he wanted to bite your lip. “So, do you do anything for fun outside of riding and work?”

He almost groaned when you said “riding” and he had to shake his head to keep his mind from drifting. He couldn’t think of you being on his bike with your arms wrapped tight around him or you riding him or anything like that. “Well…”

He explained that he wrote a bit in his spare time outside of work and the club. It was a hobby mostly, but it would be a dream come true to get his work out there one day. If not, that was okay, too, because he had a decent life and didn’t need much. His bike, his brothers.

But to have an old lady…

“Maybe I could read…” you frowned when you saw the time. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how late it was. I should get going,” you said, disappointment filling both of you.

“Oh.” He scratched the back of his neck. The two of you were having a nice talk, and he hadn’t had a chance to ask about your hobbies yet. “It’s still kinda early. Do you really have to go?” he asked, realizing just how desperate he sounded. God, if the prospects could hear him right now… He just didn’t want the night to end.

“Yeah, I do. I’m actually working a blood drive tomorrow and could use the rest,” you said, smiling sadly. He felt like an ass for asking you to stay when you had work to do. “I don’t know if you’ve heard anything about it, but you’re welcome to stop by if you want to donate. I always have this fear that people won’t show, which I realize sounds ridiculous.”

Bucky mentally kicked his ass for not knowing about a local blood drive. He was usually more on top of those sorts of things. “Where’s it at?” You gave the location and time, which was all he needed. “I’ll be there,” he promised.

And every single club member would be there, too, if they knew what was good for them.

“Really?” you smiled, your hand bumping his when you turned to face him. “You’ll go?”

He let his fingers brush yours and he smiled to himself when he felt the light shiver. “Of course, doll.”

“Doll?” you giggled. He hoped he didn’t offend you. “I hope you show,” you added in a small voice, your gaze focused on the ground.

Frowning a bit, he wondered if you didn’t believe him. Did someone let you down before? “If I say I’ll be there…” He lifted your chin, so you’d look into his eyes. He needed you to see the truth in them. “I’ll be there.”

You exhaled, staring deeply into his eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow then,” you whispered.

He grudgingly released you, knowing he had to. Besides, if he kept touching you, there was a good chance he’d pin you against the wall and show you what a work of art you were. “Good night,” he whispered, watching you go back to your friend. She linked her arm with yours as you glanced back, keeping your eyes on Bucky until you were out of sight.

He exhaled, mentally kicking his ass again. Why the fuck didn’t he ask for your number? You two hit it off, and you wanted to see him at least in some capacity beyond the blood drive, right?

Steve made a beeline for him as he stayed rooted to the spot. “It looks like you two hit it off. You know you didn’t even say hi to Chris or Sam or-”

“We’re going to a blood drive tomorrow,” he cut in. He hoped people would show, but he gave you his word he’d be there, and the club was all about giving back to the community.

The blonde’s eyebrows pinched. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Blood drive. Tomorrow. Everyone,” he said, giving his friend a hard stare. “You’re the president. Make it happen.”

“You’re the vice president, which means you supervise plans for club events or gatherings. That includes last minute things,” he pointed out, his eyebrows shooting up as Bucky got his phone out and typed quickly. “You’re serious about this?”

“Is it too much to say, ‘You better fucking be there or you’ll pay for it later’?”

The blonde grinned. A shit-eating, knowing grin, and he wanted to smack him. “This is all for her, isn’t it?”

Bucky sighed. He hadn't expected to meet someone so perfect tonight. “She’s a nurse and I wanna help. Besides, it’s good for the community and you’re all about that shit.” And he had to make a better impression after not asking for your number. “Will you at least promise you’ll be there?”

“To watch my whipped best friend fawn over a pretty nurse? Hell yeah.”

“Beautiful,” he corrected him. “She’s beautiful.”

And while Bucky would fawn over you tomorrow, he also hoped he’d get your number.

So, what do we think so far? Part of this writing style was slightly different for me, but I like how it turned out! I still need to give this reader a nickname and the AU a name, but this is a start. I can't wait for the whole club to show up at the blood drive. I also have something silly and cute planned for these two. ❤️ Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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hyuckiefluff · 26 days ago

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MOONSTRUCK | p. jisung

pairing: werewolf!hufflepuff! jisung x hufflepuff!fem. reader genre: best friends to lovers, hogwarts/supernatural au, angst, smut. wc: 18.3k+ summary: after a cruel prank leaves jisung cursed, he withdraws from everyone—including you, his closest friend. but secrets can't stay hidden forever, and when a full moon pulls you into the darkness he's tried so desperately to conceal, there's no going back. content warnings: werewolf lore & transformation, drug usage, rut/mating behavior, rough sex, biting/marking, mild breeding kink, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, knotting, bulge kink, mentions of bruising & blood, mild body horror, brief medical talk (contraceptive), aftercare. lmk if i missed any! a/n: nearly a month in the making and i can finally say i’m satisfied enough to post this lol. i’m actually really happy with how it turned out—and i finally got to write about werewolves, which has been on my list forever. canonically, werewolves in the HP universe (and most lore tbh) are dangerous nocturnal creatures and primarily bloodthirsty. but for this fic, i took a step away from that and leaned into the rut aspect instead because why not ;) pls don’t judge the cover, i had picsart and a dream lol. btw moonstruck by enhypen and nda by billie eilish are two songs u should listen to while reading this!

ps: i don’t know why i was under the assumption that everyone knows hp terms but i realized that is not the case after my mark fic 😭 so even though i didn’t use too many obscure ones here, here’s a little reference guide just in case: legilimens– someone who can read minds or emotions squib– a non-magical person born into a magical family (in this fic, it’s thrown around more like calling someone useless/coward) wolfsbane– a potion that allows werewolves to keep their mind during a full moon; in hp lore they still transform, but in this fic it's not a full transformation. feel free to message me if anything else was confusing! happy reading<3

You didn’t expect your seventh year at Hogwarts to feel like grieving someone who was still alive.

Three months ago, Park Jisung was still your best friend. Now, he can’t even stand being near you.

The suddenness of this change was something you couldn’t wrap around your head. But things don’t always fall apart all at once. Sometimes they drift until you’re left staring across a room at someone who used to know everything about you and wondering when they became a stranger.

He was the very first friend you made at Hogwarts. You remember how he barely spoke to anyone, and you sat next to him in Transfiguration class just because there was an empty seat. You charmed your quill into a frog that wouldn’t stop croaking, and when he finally cracked a smile, it felt like you’d won something important.

He was awkward and soft-spoken, unsure of himself in the way most boys are before they grow into their limbs. But you liked him instantly. Probably because he liked the same books as you, or because he never made fun of you for being nervous on a broom.

He even held your hand during your first flying lesson, hovering near you the whole time so you wouldn’t be scared. Years later, you found out he was just as scared of heights as you were and only pretended not to be to make you feel safe.

By fifth year, you spent so much time together that you could finish each other’s sentences. By sixth, you were bringing blankets to the highest tower in the castle and naming stars until you both fell asleep mid conversation. There wasn’t a single version of your life in Hogwarts that didn’t include him.

You thought seventh year would be just like that….

You were wrong.

After a summer of sending each other daily letters, pages and pages of thoughts, jokes, and half-sincere promises to never grow up, you returned to school thinking nothing could change.

And at first, it didn’t.

You walked to classes together, fell asleep with your legs tangled on the same couch, pretending not to hear the way people whispered about it the next morning, and snuck out of the common room after curfew not caring that you’d get caught.

The Astronomy Tower was your favorite place, you discovered how pretty it looked at night in your third year.

It was quiet that evening, the wind tugging at your robes as you leaned over the battlement. Jisung set down the little paper packet he’d smuggled from the kitchens—honey biscuits, still warm—and nudged it toward you.

“Payment for helping with my Potions homework,” he said, trying to be casual, though the tips of his ears were already pink.

You laughed and took one, bumping his shoulder with yours. “You’d owe me a whole bakery if this were the price.”

He smiled softly. The moonlight caught in his hair, and for a second you forgot the chill entirely.

“Close your eyes,” he said suddenly.

You arched an eyebrow but obeyed. Something light, wool‑soft, was placed around your shoulders. You opened your eyes to find his black‑and‑yellow scarf wrapped there, smelling faintly of cedarwood soap and parchment ink—purely, unmistakably Jisung.

“You’re shivering,” he mumbled, eyes on his shoes. “Couldn’t have my star‑chart partner freeze.”

You swallowed a reply that felt too big, and instead reached for his hand where it rested on the stone ledge. Your fingers threaded with his, easy as blinking. He stiffened for a second then squeezed back. When you looked up, his gaze was already fixed on you, wide and bright, as though the whole sky were reflected there instead of above your heads.

Neither of you moved for a long while. Orion wheeled overhead, the biscuits cooled, and the castle bells tolled curfew far below. But the only thing you really noticed was the warmth of his palm against yours, and the way your heart tripped every time he glanced your way and smiled shyly.

You learned just how soft‑hearted Jisung was that day on the Astronomy Tower.

Which is why, a few weeks into seventh year, it struck you as utterly wrong when rumors reached you that he’d been seen tagging along behind Lee Seungmin. Seungmin was everything Jisung wasn’t—loud, sharp‑tongued, the sort of Slytherin who thought shoving first‑years into suits of armor was a hobby and swapping curse ingredients under the table was a joke. He hexed quills to peck at classmates and bragged about detentions like they were trophies.

Jisung, by contrast, apologized when he bumped into someone and brought extra quills for anyone who forgot theirs. He flinched at raised voices and fed the barn owls after hours because he worried they were lonely.

So hearing his name linked with Seungmin’s felt like hearing that rain was falling upward. At first you laughed it off, because surely someone must have mixed him up with another quiet Hufflepuff. But then Jisung started arriving late to meals, dodging your study sessions, mumbling vague excuses you’d never heard from him before.

That was when you realized the rumor wasn’t a mistake—and that something was very, very wrong.

Seventh Year

September settled over the castle in a bright rush of golden leaves and new parchment, and for a while everything felt the way it always had. You and Jisung were crossing the courtyard—still laughing about his theory that Professor Lockhart polished his hair with Mrs. Skower’s Extra‑Shine—when a voice cut through the chatter behind you.

“Oi, Park!”

You both turned. Lee Seungmin jogged toward you, grinning widelys. You didn’t bother hiding your sigh.

“Still on for tonight?” he asked, dropping his voice as he leaned in toward Jisung.

“I’m not sure. I’ve got a Potions essay to finish.” Jisung shifted akwardly.

Seungmin smacked him on the back, too hard to be friendly. “Come on, you’ve bailed twice already.”

You stepped forward, folding your arms. “Don’t you have that same essay, Seungmin? It’s half the term grade.”

He turned, as if noticing you for the first time and smirked “Why bother? Snape’s going to fail me anyway.”

“Typical,” you muttered.

“I’ll let you know later,” Jisung said quickly, cutting between you before another jab could leave your mouth.

Seungmin’s gaze lingered on you, faintly mocking, before he turned away with a humorless laugh. “Sure thing, Park.”

The moment he was out of earshot you exhaled. “Since when are you and Seungmin… close?”

“We’re not,” Jisung said, scratching at the back of his neck. “He just hangs around sometimes.”

You searched his face. “You two have nothing in common.”

“It isn’t a big deal,” he insisted, but the laugh that followed sounded fake.

“It is if you’re sneaking off with someone like him,” you said, sharper than you meant to, but the worry was too much to hide.

Jisung’s gaze dropped to his shoes. “I didn’t think it was worth mentioning.”

You didn’t say anything after that. You just walked the rest of the way to class in silence with a sense of unease settling on your chest.

That was when the distance began to show.

First, he started seating two rows over in Charms, smiling apologetically whenever you glanced his way but never moving back. He stopped leaving crooked little jokes on the margins of your Transfiguration notes or looking at you and trying not to laugh whenever Professor Lockhart messed up a spell.

He still spoke to you, yet every conversation felt stitched together, as if he were acting out a script. One afternoon you finally asked, “Are we all right?” He nodded so quickly you had a hard time believing it.

The next time you saw him with Seungmin it was well past curfew.

You had just left the library after wrestling Arithmancy proofs and stopped short as soon as you rounded the corner near the dungeon stairs. There was Seungmin leaning against the wall and Jisung half‑turned away, both speaking in low murmurs. You caught only fragments of Seungmin’s lazy drawl and Jisung’s tight replies. Then Seungmin laughed sharply, and your best friend flinched as though struck.

Your loud footsteps made both of their heads snap up.

“Y/N,” Jisung blurted, striding toward you as if to block your view. “Why are you out so late?”

“I could ask you the same.” You said arching a brow.

Behind him, Seungmin offered a thin grin before slipping down the stairs into the darkness of the dungeons.

Jisung pressed a hand to his eyes. “I was heading back to the dorm.”

“What did he want?”

“He—” Jisung’s voice faltered and for a heartbeat you saw the words gather behind his lips but he swallowed them down. “It’s nothing.”

“Nothing?” Your voice cracked on the word. “Come on, Ji.”

“I’m just tired,” he whispered. “Can we talk tomorrow?”

Silence pooled between you, at last you forced a smile neither of you believed. “All right. Tomorrow.”

But tomorrow never arrived—at least, not the kind where he told you what was wrong.

Because the next day Jisung never came to class at all.

Two whole days slid by without a glimpse of him and you were so on edge you kept glancing over your shoulder, half‑expecting his soft voice behind you. Or hoping he might walk into the library with that shy lopsided smile, asking if you had spare parchment which he always ran out of because his handwriting was too big and messy.

But he wasn’t anywhere, and no one seemed willing to notice besides you.

By lunch on the second day you couldn’t keep silent. Renjun was halfway through a Honeydukes bar, mumbling that chocolate boosted cognitive function, when you leaned across the table and murmured, “Do you know what’s going on with Jisung?”

He froze mid‑bite. “What?”

“Renjun,” you said, low and tight, “you know he hasn’t been to class, or in the common room. He isn’t anywhere.”

“I thought he was sick,” Renjun offered with a shrug that felt rehearsed.

“He isn’t in the hospital wing, and he hasn’t answered any of my owls.”

A flicker of something, maybe guilt, crossed his face. “Maybe he just… needs space?”

Your gaze sharpened. “Did something happen?”

“No,” he blurted too fast. “No, not that I know of.”

“Renjun.”

“I swear, I don’t know.” He wouldn’t meet your eyes. That was answer enough, but you let it drop for now.

That evening, heading back from a prefect meeting, you passed the hidden entrance to the Slytherin common room and heard voices up the corridor.

You weren’t trying to eavesdrop—until one word snapped you still.

“Jisung.”

“Snape got to him before—”

“—thought he was going to die, mate—”

“—Seungmin won’t shut up, keeps saying it wasn’t meant to go that far—”

A rush of blood pounded in your ears as you picked up bits of the hushed conversation. You edged closer and caught sight of Jay and Niki—Seungmin’s friends—half hidden in the shadows, whispering behind cupped hands.

Your fingers curled into fists at your sides. Your thoughts finally being confirmed; Something happened to Jisung and Seungmin was at the heart of it.

You didn’t sleep a minute that night. Every time you shut your eyes, the conversation replayed in your head until dawn bled through the curtains and you were already out of bed, fury keeping you upright.

You found Seungmin loitering outside the Great Hall, laughing too loudly at something Jay and Niki had said. You crossed the marble floor without a second thought.

“Where is he?”

The smile slipped from Seungmin’s face. He cocked his head, all polite confusion. “Sorry, where’s who?”

“Drop the act,” you said, stepping close enough that he had to tilt his chin to keep eye contact. “I heard your lackeys talking last night. Where’s Jisung?”

Jay and Niki exchanged a look but said nothing..

Seungmin gave a thin, brittle laugh. “You’re hearing ghosts, sweetheart. Why would I bother with Park?”

“A better question,” you started, voice cold, “is why you’ve been so attached to him lately. You don’t exactly run in the same circles, so what did you talk him into?”

Something sharpened in Seungmin’s eyes and he leaned in by a fraction. “Careful with what you’re accusing me of.”

“Or what?” You didn’t move. “You’ll do to me what you did to him?”

For a heartbeat his mask slipped, just long enough to confirm you’d scored a direct hit.

“I didn’t touch him,” he said, almost gently. “Whatever mess Park’s in? He walked into it himself”

“Liar.”

He dipped his head, a mock‑sympathetic smile curling at his mouth. “You think you know him so well, huh? Ever think that maybe he finally got tired of you shadowing him like a needy bitc—”

Your wand was at his throat before the last word finished leaving his lips. The corridor went silent except for your breathing.

“You know nothing about us,” you said, voice shaking with contained fury. “If he’s hurt, I’ll make sure everyone here knows exactly whose fault it is.”

Seungmin’s gaze flicked to the tip of your wand, then back to your face. A slow, poisonous smile spread. “Ask too many questions, Y/N, and you might choke on the answers.”

He stepped back with his hands raised in surrender, and strolled away. Jay and Niki followed in uneasy silence. You lowered your wand, fingers trembling with adrenaline.

His parting smile told you everything about his involvement. But you still didn’t have clear answers.

So you went to seek the other person allegedly involved. Snape.

When you descended into the dungeons, the silence was immediate and unnatural. No one ever came this far during free periods; only Professor Snape’s office existed at the end of this corridor, buried deep in the coldest, most isolated part of the castle.

Faint green flames floated midair along the walls, suspended in enchanted sconces that made no sound and cast no warmth. They pulsed gently, like breathing, and their glow warped the stone around them, making the shadows twist in ways that defied logic.

You hated it down here. Even now, in your seventh year, walking this corridor alone made your heart thud against your ribs like it wanted you to turn back.

But you were desperate.

Snape looked up slowly when you stepped into his office without knocking, his quill pausing mid-sentence on the parchment. His expression went from mildly irritated to coldly displeased in an instant.

“Is knocking a forgotten concept these days?” he said dryly.

“Professor,” you began quickly, not even trying to hide the urgency in your voice. “I need to talk to you.”

Snape set down his quill, arching a single eyebrow. “Then I suggest you start talking, and make it quick.”

You swallowed. “It’s about Jisung… Park Jisung. He’s been missing for days, and no one seems to know anything. Or at least, they’re pretending they don’t.”

His gaze sharpened and for a second, you thought you saw a flicker of caution behind his eyes before he quickly masked it.

“I fail to see why you’re bringing this to me,” he said coolly, leaning back in his chair. “Missing students are a matter for the headmaster.”

“Don’t,” you snapped before you could stop yourself. Snape’s eyes narrowed dangerously, but you pressed forward anyway. “I overheard some students talking. They mentioned your name…said you found Jisung somewhere. Something happened to him, didn’t it?”

Snape’s eyes flashed briefly. “And you believe the idle gossip of students because…?”

“Jisung wouldn’t just disappear on his own like that. I know something happened to him,” you shot back, voice shaking. “And I believe you know exactly what.”

He watched you silently for a moment. You could feel him weighing something behind his guarded stare. Finally, he exhaled sharply.

“Miss Y/N,” he began slowly, voice heavy with thinly veiled warning, “there are things within these castle walls and beyond them that you are better off not knowing.”

“That’s not your choice to make,” you said immediately.

“On the contrary,” he replied calmly. “It is precisely my choice. And you will do well to remember that.”

Your fists clenched at your sides, frustration prickling hot behind your eyes. “Professor, please. Jisung’s my best friend. If he’s hurt… if something’s happened… I need to know.”

Something shifted in Snape’s expression at your words, almost looked like regret. When he spoke, his voice was almost gentle, which frightened you more than his scorn.

“Sometimes the worst harm you can do to someone is to keep prying.”

He paused, holding your gaze steadily. “Park is alive. That is all you need to know. Now leave.”

You stood frozen for a second, his words sinking in painfully. Jisung was alive—yet somehow, that felt worse. It meant something had happened… Something terrible.

Your jaw tightened. “You can’t keep this hidden forever,” you whispered fiercely.

He leaned forward, eyes piercing yours in the darkness of the room.

“We’ll see.”

You turned away, storming from his office without looking back. Snape hadn’t denied anything which meant there’d definitely been an incident and it was serious enough that Jisung couldn’t be seen right now. He was alive, but he was hurt, and whatever happened to him was being deliberately hidden.

A few days later

The day started like any other.

You pushed cold eggs across your plate, half listening to Renjun’s gentle attempts at conversation while the Great Hall hummed as if a student hadn’t been missing for a week. But suddenly, a hush rolled through the room.

You felt Renjun touch your arm.

“Y/N.”

You looked up, and followed his gaze toward the doors. The breath caught in your throat.

Jisung was standing just inside the oak doors.

He was bent at the shoulders, eyes flicking over the Hall as if he didn’t remember ever being there before. His robes hung wrinkled and loose and there were red scratches carved along his neck and cheek. He was paler than before and the shadows beneath his eyes made him look years older than when you’d last seen him.

Without greeting anyone, he drifted to the far end of the Hufflepuff table nowhere near his usual seat beside you.

You were on your feet before the thought finished forming.

Renjun caught your wrist. “Y/N, maybe wait—”

You shook him off and crossed the hall, every step echoing in the sudden quiet.

“Jisung?”

He flinched but kept his gaze on the empty plate. “Not now, Y/N.”

“You’ve been gone a week,” you whispered, voice trembling. “I was so worried—”

“I said not now.” The snap in his voice was sharp enough to cut. He glanced up and the terror in his eyes chilled you to the bone.

You reached for him, but he stood so abruptly your balance faltered. Without another word he strode the length of the hall and disappeared through the doors, leaving a silence that seemed to bend the rafters.

You stood frozen, heat flushing your face as dozens of eyes slid away. Renjun appeared at your elbow and talked softly. “Let him breathe.”

You nodded, though the emptiness in your chest insisted otherwise.

Jisung returned to lessons, but only in body. He answered professors in one‑word murmurs and offered classmates strained smiles that meant please don’t talk to me. At meals he sat alone, two yards of empty bench marking the space where laughter used to live.

He moved faster when he saw you in the corridors. He no longer waited outside classrooms or drifted toward your chair in the library. His robes hung loose as if he’d lost weight along with sleep, and his hands shook whenever he raised his wand. Sometimes you caught him staring through stone walls at something only he could see.

You tried with soft hellos in the common room, and owls folded with careful questions but every attempt slid off the wall he’d built overnight. The harder you reached, the farther he retreated, until all that remained between you was silence and the memory of how easily you’d once shared the same breath.

2 days later

Jisung sat on the edge of his bed, head buried in his shaking hands. His palms were marked with crescent-shaped indentations from how hard he was clenching his fists.

He kept hearing it.

The snap of branches in pitch-black darkness. The sickening crunch of claws sinking into damp earth. The guttural snarl vibrating through his bones moments before razor-sharp teeth pierced his shoulder. The thick warmth of blood soaking through his robes.

Sometimes it came to him in dreams. Other times, he’d be awake, in class, or walking down the corridor. A sound, or a smell and he was back in the forest.

Snape had said the wolfsbane would help and it had in a way. At least, it kept the full transformation at bay. But it didn’t stop the memories, it didn’t quiet the noise in his head.

His senses were too sharp now, every creak of the floorboards, every flicker of candlelight, every rustle of parchment felt louder. Sometimes he thought he could hear people’s heartbeats, smell their sweat before they entered a room. His insides constantly felt overwhelmed with unbearable energy. He felt trapped in his own skin, moments away from tearing free of himself. Sometimes he felt too much, and other times… he felt nothing at all.

Worst of all, though, was you.

He couldn't stand to be near you anymore. Not because he didn't want to, but because your scent now stirred something dangerous within him. It made his chest ache unbearably, tightened his throat with longing and thirst.

A part of him urged him to get far away from you. But another darker, more primal part whispered the opposite… to scent you, to sink into you, to lose control entirely. But he refused to drag you into his nightmare. He wouldn't allow it, no matter how much it tore at him.

He could remember most of what led him into the forest, up to a certain point.

He remembers Seungmin saying he wanted to hang out and they met near the edge of the Forbidden Forest, where one of the slytherins handed out something called shadeleaf. It was an iridescent petal folded into itself like a capsule. Illegal, of course. Banned by the ministry for its hallucinogenic properties and its tendency to react differently based on magical affinity.

Jisung didn't even know why he was there. This wasn’t his scene at all. The guys were drinking something out of a flask that smelled like burnt sugar and smoke. Jay was lighting up a rolled spell-scroll with charmed embers. Niki already looked half out of it, eyes glazed.

When Seungmin started showing an interest in him a few weeks ago, Jisung had been flattered. He'd only ever made two close friends at Hogwarts, so someone new noticing him felt good. That was the only reason he went along with him. He wanted to be accepted.

“Is it safe?” Jisung asked nervously.

“Come on, park,” Niki chuckled, placing a shimmering petal on his tongue. “Don’t be a Squib.”

“What's the worst that could happen?” Seungmin grinned, handing one to him. “You trip a bit? See some weird shit? Wake up with a headache?”

Jisung hesitated, staring at the thing in his palm. It pulsed faintly with a color he didn’t have a name for.

He didn't want to do it, but they were all watching him. So he took it.

The effects hit almost instantly. His vision went fuzzy first; he could only see edges warping and light bending at impossible angles. Then his tongue tingled and throbbed, and his body felt too hot.

“Shit, this is strong,” Jay laughed.

“It’s not that bad,” Seungmin said, puffing from the smoldering scroll between his fingers.

None of them looked as affected as Jisung.

"Come on, Park," Seungmin said, draping an arm casually yet firmly around Jisung’s shoulders. "There’s a spot a little deeper in. We hang out there all the time."

Jisung couldn’t hear properly anymore, everything sounded underwater. He followed anyway.

He couldn’t say how long they walked. It felt like hours, though in reality it was probably mere minutes before his knees gave out, sending him sprawling onto the cold forest floor. His head spun violently, vision fractured.

He tried to speak, to call out but his voice didn't work, the forest blurring darker and darker until only silence and blackness swallowed him whole. He didn’t know when they left him. Just that at some point, he was alone.

The last thing he remembers was seeing bright, yellow eyes and feeling immense pain…

He woke up choking on his own blood.

His body jerked violently, lungs burning as he struggled to take in air. He felt strong hands grip his shoulders, pulling him upright with urgency. Through blurry, half-open eyes, he caught the outline of a wand glowing faintly in the dark. He barely recognized the familiar cadence of Professor Snape’s voice echoing through the haze.

“Park… Can you hear me?” Snape’s voice was clipped, edged with tension he’d never heard before.

Jisung managed only a strangled groan. He couldn’t speak, his throat was raw, filled with the metallic tang of blood. Breathing felt impossible, each gasp shallow and painful, as if his lungs were full of lead. He felt wetness soaking through his clothes and pooling beneath him. He didn't know if it was sweat or blood. Probably both, his clouded mind whispered darkly.

He was certain of only one thing—he was going to die here.

“You’ve been attacked,” Snape explained urgently, casting quick charms that rippled warmly across Jisung’s battered body. “I need you to remain as still as possible while I attempt to slow the bleeding.”

The word attacked echoed faintly in Jisung’s mind. Attacked by what? His thoughts swirled sluggishly. He couldn’t focus enough to piece anything together.

Snape pressed a small vial to his lips. The Hufflepuff hesitated, eyes flickering up weakly, his question dying soundlessly on cracked lips.

Snape seemed to understand instantly. “It’s Wolfsbane.”

The word crashed over Jisung with crushing weight, his mind snapping painfully back to clarity. Wolfsbane. A potion for…

His stomach twisted violently, nausea gripping him as realization cut sharply through the fog in his mind.

He’d been attacked by a werewolf.

It felt impossible. He wanted to deny it, wanted to believe it was just some twisted nightmare brought on by the drugs he’d foolishly taken. But the pain burning through his shoulder and the dark, grim expression on Snape’s face all made denial impossible.

With trembling lips, Jisung allowed Snape to tip the bitter potion into his mouth, grimacing weakly as he forced himself to swallow it down. It tasted vile but he had no energy left to protest.

He collapsed back against the cold forest floor, limbs heavy, vision fading once more as Snape continued muttering charms, trying to keep him tethered to consciousness.

“Stay with me, Park,” Snape’s voice commanded, sharp but oddly comforting. “You’re not going to die tonight.”

But Jisung wasn’t sure he believed him.

The darkness rushed back in, heavy and thick, pulling him under again as Snape’s frantic movements blurred and faded away.

His memory is fuzzy from then on.

One moment he was lying in the dirt, blood soaking the ground beneath him. The next, he was being levitated through narrow hallways, his body wrapped in magic and warding charms.

The room was dark, except for a wandlight hovering near the ceiling. He was placed on a dusty mattress on the floor. His skin felt stiff with blood, every muscle felt like it had been peeled apart and sewn back together with barbed wire.

He recognized the Shrieking Shack from an article he’d read once about the most haunted places on Earth. That’s where they were right now.

The shack was colder than he imagined. This was the place they used to tell ghost stories about in the common room. The place kids dared each other to peek into on Hogsmeade weekends. It smelled like old wood and dust. Snape moved through it like he’d been here before—like this was routine.

He cast a dozen silent spells before even speaking. Layers of enchantments wrapped around the rotting floorboards, the shattered furniture, the warped windows.

“You must take this Wolfsbane every day,” Snape said curtly, setting a tray on the floor beside the creaking mattress. “Or I’ll force it down your throat.”

Jisung didn’t answer. Snape paused, studying him with that unreadable stare.

“You’ll stay here until the full moon passes,” he said. “You’ll say nothing when you return.”

Jisung blinked slowly, the weight of it sinking into his bones. ‘When you return… or If’.

Then Snape turned to go but he stopped in the doorway.

“You are not the first,” he said, voice low. “It will be painful but you’ll survive.”

And with that, he was gone.

The silence was the most unbearable part of being in the Shack. Not even the pain or the way Jisung’s bones ached like they were preparing to snap apart. It was the silence that made him feel like he’d go crazy any minute.

He tried to sleep, but whenever he tried he’d blink awake to phantom sensations of fur brushing his skin, fangs pushing against his teeth, and a sweet scent of honey curling through the cracks in the floorboards.

It wasn’t the full moon yet but his body was already responding to it. The Wolfsbane kept him from changing completely, but it didn’t stop everything. His skin itched as if it was being stretched and he realized he’d grown a few inches taller overnight. His eyes were also becoming sensitive to even the faintest flickers of light, and they were a dark shade of yellow that glowed whenever the moonlight hit them.

It might’ve been on the second night or the third, he couldn’t remember well, but Snape came in and told him that the full moon would be at its peak and he would feel the effects more despite the potion.

Jisung lasted about two hours before the pain began. It wasn’t sudden. It crept in slowly, like frostbite, numbing his fingers first. Then his wrists and his legs. He thought maybe this was it—maybe he’d just fade out before anything happened. Then it spread up his spine and into his skull, where it bloomed behind his eyes like fire.

The pain was so much bigger than his body. It burned and it shredded him, as if his bones were being broken and rebuilt at the same time, like his skin wasn’t big enough to hold him anymore. He scratched at his own arms until his nails cracked and bled. It got so unbearable he slammed his head against the wall hoping he would knock himself out but he couldn’t.

He clawed at the walls, tore at the floorboards and bit into the wood until his mouth filled with splinters and blood. He howled until his throat tore raw. And still, it didn’t stop

He lost count of how many times his limbs broke and reformed. His jaw cracked open so wide he thought it might dislocate, teeth pushing through bloody gums. He was sobbing or at least, he thought he was. It was hard to tell over the sound of his own growling.

The transformation stopped halfway and started again the next day. He never fully transformed but he felt the pain of his body trying to fight against it every single time.

He stopped counting days after that.

Hunger and exhaustion tangled with grief and fear until all that was left was the throb of his body and the steady hum of magic in his blood. He didn’t think about the pain anymore. Or the bite. Or Seungmin. Or the forest.

Mostly, he thought about you.

He tried not to, but you wouldn’t leave him. Your face, your laugh, your voice, it all circled him like the moonlight through the slats in the wall.

The way the thought of you made his body burn now.The way your honeyed scent used to be comforting but now made his lungs tighten and his mouth water. He didn’t understand why he was feeling this way.

On the seventh day he woke up soaked in sweat, shivering uncontrollably. The moon had passed. He could feel it in the way the ache in his bones was retreating and his mind was clearer.

Snape arrived at dawn.

He said nothing about the mess of blood and broken furniture in the room. He just studied Jisung who was sitting slumped against the wall. He pulled out his wand and started casting diagnostic spells over his body.

“You’ll return to class tomorrow,” he said. “If anyone asks, you were ill.”

Jisung didn’t move.

Snape continued impassively. “You are not to mention the Wolfsbane, the forest, or what you’ve become. Do you understand?”

Jisung finally looked at him, barely able to lift his head properly. “That’s it? Just… go back like nothing happened?” His voice came out hoarse.

Snape’s eyes narrowed faintly. “No. That is not it.”

He stepped closer.

“You will take your potion every cycle, no matter what. And you will not seek out the other boys involved, nor will you retaliate.”

Jisung’s jaw clenched. He wanted nothing more than to rip Seungmin’s throat apart, but he knew that was just the wolf thinking.

“And most importantly, you will stay away from her.” Snape said, his voice dropping at the last word.

Jisung sat up sharply, knowing exactly who he was referring to. “Why?”

The professor’s expression didn’t soften. “Because the wolf doesn’t care that she’s your friend. It doesn’t care about boundaries or guilt or decency. It responds to need.”

Jisung’s chest tightened, throat dry.

“The first few transformations are the worst,” Snape continued, pacing slowly now. “Your body hasn’t adjusted. Your instincts haven’t aligned with your mind. You will feel urges…violent, territorial, carnal urges that you can’t control. Those urges will turn into fixations... Especially for someone you already had feelings for”

“I don’t–” Jisung started.

“You don’t need to lie, Mr. Park.” Snape cut him off, “I am a very skilled Legilimens, you know? I can see your mind and I see how it’s filled with thoughts of her.”

Jisung looked away, jaw trembling slightly. Snape stopped in front of him.

“Her scent” he said quietly. “It already triggers you, doesn’t it?”

Jisung didn’t answer. That sweet scent of honey and parchment that he kept smelling through the rotting floors and the dried blood, he figured out it was you. It reminded him of that night at the Astronomy tower.The Shrieking Shack might be a few miles away from Hogwarts castle but he could still somehow smell you.

“You feel it in your chest, in your teeth, in your gut” Snape said, voice like a scalpel. “You want her.”

Jisung’s breathing picked up.

“That is the beginning of your rut.”

“Rut?” he repeated, barely above a whisper.

Snape nodded. “It’s a biological response. Wolves enter a heightened state after the full moon cycle. Some experience it more than others, especially younger ones who’ve recently turned”

Jisung’s heart was pounding now, nauseatingly fast.

“You may feel sudden impulses or worse you might want to act on those impulses.”

He felt sick. “I’m not— I would never hurt her.”

“I’m not concerned about your intentions,” Snape said coldly. “I’m concerned about your self control. A werewolf’s instincts are hard to resist and if you lose control, Mr. Park… She will pay the price.”

“So stay away from her,” Snape said with finality. “It’s the only way to keep you both safe.”

Jisung sat there shaking, the weight of what he’d become pressing down on his spine like a second body.

He couldn’t go back. Not like this.

“I’m not ready,” he said hoarsely.

Snape didn’t turn. He stood by the window, watching the last of the night dissolve into grey morning.

“You won’t ever be,” he said simply.

Jisung clenched his jaw. “I don’t want to see her. Or anyone. I—I can’t trust myself.”

“You must learn to live with your current situation.”

“Why can’t I just… stay here?”

Snape turned at that. His eyes were cold and calculating.

“Because people are already asking questions,” he said. “Students, staff. Your friend.”

Jisung’s heart stuttered at that.

“She’s worried,” Snape continued. “Rightfully so. You disappeared without warning. She’s been to my office several times. She’s even confronted the student who got you into this predicament, pulled out a wand at him. I don’t know how much longer I can keep her from endangering herself trying to find you.”

Jisung lowered his head, guilt flooding every nerve.

“Rumors are spreading, too.” Snape added. “A few students are saying they saw you with Mr. Lee that night. Some think you were injured, others that you’re in trouble. You’ve already been gone too long.”

Jisung swallowed hard. “So I just walk into the Great Hall acting like I’m normal?”

Snape didn’t blink. “Yes.”

His stomach turned. “And if someone sees the scars?”

“You’ll say you had an accident in the forest.”

“And you’ll back me up?” he asked bitterly.

“If I must.”

Jisung exhaled shakily. “And Y/N? We—we’re always together, she’ll find it weird if I suddenly cut her off”

“You’ll keep your distance regardless. If she asks questions, you deflect. If she pushes, you walk away. You’re not safe around her”

He bit his lip hard, so hard it almost bled. “She’ll know something’s wrong.”

“Then hope she’s smart enough not to get too close.”

The doors to the Great Hall had never felt so heavy. Jisung stood in front of them for nearly five minutes, staring at the carved wood. Behind them, he heard laughter, casual conversation, normalcy.

He wasn’t ready.

But Snape’s words echoed in his skull.

"You’ve already been gone too long."

He took a breath and pushed them open.

All the noise overcame him like a wave, the plates clinking, voices overlapping, owls fluttering through the rafters. It all felt loud in a way it hadn’t before, as if someone had turned the world’s volume up just to punish him.

He kept his head low and his pace steady. One foot in front of the other. Just like Snape said. Act like nothing happened.

He could feel all eyes on him almost instantly. First years stopping mid-bite and a few seventh-years whispering across the Gryffindor table. Someone, he thought maybe Jay, froze with a goblet halfway to his lips.

And then you. He didn’t have to loo, he felt the second your eyes landed on him, making something twist deep in his chest. That same unbearable tightness he’d felt in the shack whenever he let himself think about you. About your laugh echoing across the common room. About your fingers brushing his when you passed him a quill and how it used to mean nothing, and now it meant everything.

He knew you’d notice the hollow look in his eyes, the bruises blooming like violets on his neck and the bandage peeking out from beneath the collar of his robes. You’d find it weird that he didn’t sit near you, didn’t even glance your way. But he tried to ignore those thoughts and just focus on the plate in front of him even though his stomach turned at the smell of food.

You stared at him from your seat. It took you several long, painful seconds to process what you were seeing.

Jisung—your best friend, who’d been missing a week without a word—just walked into breakfast looking like he’d seen hell and barely made it back out.

His robes were loose like he’d lost weight and his eyes were ringed with dark circles, exhaustion written clearly in every line of his face. There were cuts visible, thin red marks down his jaw, a deeper scar stretching beneath his collar, fading bruises on the backs of his hands. His hair was tangled, his posture painfully tense.

You felt a sick sense of relief after seeing him, despite his appearance. But most of all you felt angry. You felt everything all at once, a hot rush of emotions almost too intense to handle.

Jisung avoided your gaze completely. He picked at the food in front of him, not really eating, just pushing it around his plate.

He felt you approaching before you spoke. Your scent hit him first, warm and familiar, yet unbearably intense. His jaw clenched tight, fingers curling into fists beneath the table. He didn’t look up even when you stood near him. He simply couldn’t trust himself to see your face and not fall apart.

You called his name quietly and he almost cried at the sound of your voice. But he didn’t move, not even when you stepped closer.

Slowly, he raised his head, gaze finally meeting yours You went still, eyes widening just slightly. He knew instantly what you saw—the darkness in his stare, the shadowed bruises, the fresh scars. The way he looked wrong.

He couldn’t bear your pained eyes, so he snapped at you. Something he’d never do before, but Snape told him to deflect. So he yelled and walked away, trying to ignore how hurt you looked.

This was what Snape meant. You’re not safe around her.

You couldn’t eat after that. Not with the way he’d looked at you.

Jisung had always been soft-spoken, a little awkward, a little shy—but never cold. And you didn’t need a Healer to tell you that whatever he’d gone through wasn’t some stomach bug or routine cold. You weren’t stupid.

You saw the tremble in his fingers when he reached for his fork. You saw the way he flinched when someone behind him dropped their goblet. You saw the bruises just under his collar and the bandages.

Something happened to him.

You sat back down but your heart was still up at the other end of the table with him.

“I need to know,” you murmured, more to yourself than to Renjun.

He sighed. “Y/N…”

“Don’t say it,” you snapped quietly. “Don’t say I should give him time. Don’t say he’ll come around. I know him, Renjun. He’s scared. You don’t just disappear for a week and come back with claw marks on you neck.”

Renjun went quiet.

That silence told you more than anything else.

“Okay, I’m tired of this… You know something, don’t you?”

He avoided your gaze. “It’s not my place to say.”

That hurt. “Is it mine to not know?”

You stood abruptly, grabbing your bag. “If no one’s going to tell me the truth, I’ll figure it out myself.”

Over the next few days, you tried to get close to Jisung in every way you could think of. You waited for him outside the greenhouses after Herbology, hoping to catch him alone. You switched seats in Charms just to be nearer, and sometimes you even loitered in the corridor after Potions, telling yourself you’d walk him back to the common room.

Despite your best efforts, he continually slipped away.

He offered awkward excuses about having somewhere to be, or sometimes said nothing at all and just walked past. Most of the time, he barely managed to look at you, as if doing so caused him physical pain. This wasn’t an icy kind of avoidance, nor was it tinged with anger. It felt worse than either of those possibilities—it was as though he found everything about you unbearable, but still couldn’t muster the energy to explain why.

Once, you nearly cornered him after lunch. He was leaning against the corridor wall outside the Great Hall, head tipped back, looking utterly exhausted. In that unguarded moment, your eyes met his, and you thought you glimpsed your old friend beneath the tension he carried. Summoning the nerve you’d been collecting all day, you stepped forward.

“Can we talk?” you asked softly.

For a split second, it seemed like he might say yes. His mouth opened as though he wanted to form the words but then Professor Snape’s voice echoed from behind you.

“Miss Y/N.”

You turned around to find Snape standing there, unruffled as always, robes hanging in sharp lines. He inclined his head in an almost polite manner yet still carried the weight of an order.

“I need you to come to the dungeons,” he said in a measured tone. “There are ingredients that require sorting. I trust your handwriting is still legible.”

You tried to protest, but as soon as you turned back, Jisung had vanished. From that moment on, it became a pattern: every time you got too close to him, Snape appeared with some new task for you—an extended office hour to discuss a mistake in an essay, a request to reorganize outdated potions, or a perfectly timed interruption just as you were about to speak with Jisung privately.

On a rational level, you knew it was ridiculous to think Snape was orchestrating this on purpose; however, it was impossible to ignore how consistently he managed to swoop in whenever you finally had a chance to approach Jisung alone. You didn’t know why your professor was so intent on calling you away, and truthfully it wasn’t the main issue gripping your mind.

All you could focus on was Jisung.

He looked so different—worn down, scared, ashamed, like he was carrying a secret that weighed on his shoulders every moment of the day. Every time you tried to reach him, he withdrew further. It broke your heart, because you weren’t trying to fix him or make him talk if he didn’t want to. You just wanted to be there, to stand by him instead of watching from a distance.

Yet no matter how hard you tried, the boy who used to seek you out for study breaks and late-night jokes now seemed determined to avoid you. And the more distance he forced, the more you wanted to find out what had really happened, because this Jisung—the one who flinched when you spoke and looked away when you caught his eye—felt like a stranger wearing your best friend’s face.

It was late, far too late for anyone else to be out of bed. So when you heard commotion up in the Astronomy Tower during one of your prefect rounds, you instinctively climbed the stairs to inspect, your wand held loosely in your fingertips.

The castle had felt too quiet lately. Ever since Jisung came back, everything had been off balance. You’d even taken extra patrols just to keep your mind busy. You weren’t expecting to find anything up there except maybe a few rowdy owls.

But when you pushed open the heavy wooden door to the Astronomy Tower, you froze at the sight.

Jisung was there, hunched against the railing, his robes half-open, hands gripping the stone balustrade so tightly you saw his knuckles pale even from across the room.

"Jisung?" you said softly, hesitant.

His head snapped up instantly, and your breath caught in your throat.

His eyes were wild, pupils blown wide, irises shimmering unnaturally gold beneath the moonlight. Sweat gleamed across his pale forehead, his hair was messy and damp, sticking to his face. His breathing came harsh and fast, almost feral.

You took a cautious step forward. "Jisung, are you okay?"

"Stay back," he choked out, voice strained and rough. "Don't come closer."

But you saw the tremble in his arms, the feverish brightness in his eyes. He looked sick. He looked scared.

"What’s wrong? Let me help—"

"No." He shook his head violently, squeezing his eyes shut as if fighting himself. "You can't—I'm not—"

He trailed off, stumbling forward as if pulled by some invisible force toward you. He was breathing heavily, lips parted as he seemed to taste the air between you.

"Jisung—"

Your voice cut off as his gaze snapped sharply to yours again, something raw and dangerous flaring in his eyes. It sent a shiver racing down your spine, and you instinctively backed away half a step.

"Leave," he hissed, the word barely recognizable through his clenched teeth. His whole body seemed rigid with tension. "Please, leave before—"

He broke off with a gasp, doubling over as though a wave of pain had just wracked through him.

You rushed forward instinctively, panic clouding your caution. "Jisung!"

He moved faster than your eyes could track. One moment he was curled into himself and the next he had you pinned against the cold stone floor, wrists pressed tightly beside your head, his face inches from yours, breath hot and erratic against your neck.

"Ji—" Your voice cracked. "What are you—"

He inhaled deeply against your throat, his body trembling against yours. "God, you smell so—" His voice was ragged and broken, almost a sob. "I can't—I can't stop it, I—"

He pressed closer instinctively, hips pinning you hard against the floor. His lips grazed roughly against your neck, sharp teeth skimming dangerously along your pulse point. Your heart slammed against your ribs, fear tangled confusingly with something hot in your lower belly.

"Jisung, please," you whispered, half plea, half gasp. "You're scaring me."

Those words seemed to pierce through whatever haze had overtaken him. He jerked back, eyes wide, suddenly horrified at himself. His gaze flicked down to your wrists, already bruising beneath his grip, and he stumbled away as if burned.

"No," he whispered, horror and guilt bleeding openly into his expression. "I didn't—I wouldn't—"

You stayed frozen on the floor, chest heaving as you watched the agony twist across his face.

"What’s happening to you?" you breathed, sitting up slowly.

He stared at you, anguished, hands still trembling at his sides.

"I'm sorry," he whispered brokenly. "I—I'm so sorry."

Before you could say another word, he turned sharply and bolted down the stairs, leaving you alone, shaking, and terrified.

The Hufflepuff common room was quiet when you walked in. Most students had gone to bed, but Renjun sat alone on the couch.

You didn’t give him a chance to pretend he didn’t see you coming.

“You’re going to tell me what happened.”

Renjun sighed, not looking away from the fire. “Y/N…”

“No,” you said, standing in front of him. “No more deflecting. You’ve known something since the day he came back.”

He rubbed his hands over his face. “I don’t know the whole story.”

“Then tell me what you know.”

Silence.

You crossed your arms. “Do you really think I’m going to stop asking? You’ve seen him. You know he’s not okay. And no one’s saying anything, and I’m losing my mind because—” your voice cracked, just slightly— “because that’s my best friend.”

Renjun’s shoulders slumped. He looked like he aged ten years in a second.

“Seungmin and his friends... they planned something,” he said quietly.

Your chest went still.

“I only heard a conversation between Professor Sprout and Professor Snape,” he continued. “But apparently they were hanging out near the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Seungmin gave Jisung something. A potion or… some kind of enchanted hallucinogen.”

Renjun looked up at you, guilt heavy in his eyes even though he hadn’t been there. “They led him into the forest, Y/N… And something attacked him.”

You stared at him, voice thick with dread. “Something?”

Renjun hesitated. “Snape... Snape was the one who found him.”

You felt cold all over. “What was it?”

He looked away.

“Renjun. What was it.”

His voice dropped to a whisper.

“A werewolf.”

A gasp got stuck in your throat.

“I don’t know how bad it was,” Renjun said softly. “But apparently Professor Snape had to lock him up for a week while he went through the transformation.”

Tears stung behind your eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want to believe it myself….”

You sank into the chair across from him, everything too heavy to stand.

“A werewolf,” you whispered.

He nodded and suddenly, so many things clicked at once. Suddenly it all made sense.

After Renjun told you, you couldn’t sleep.

You sat in your bed staring at the ceiling until the sun started bleeding through the windows, and then you slipped out of the dorms without a word. You went straight to the library and stayed there all morning.

Madam Pince gave you a curious glance when you asked to go into the Restricted Section after looking through every other possible book in the regular shelves and finding nothing of value. You dropped Professor Babbling’s name as your excuse—said you were doing independent research for an Arithmancy paper. She didn’t ask further, just handed you a list of approved titles and waved you through.

You didn’t touch a single one of them. Instead, you searched for everything you could find on werewolves.

They were mostly old, dusty books with creaking spines and brittle pages. Most seemed to be more folklore than facts but you found a text buried near the bottom of a shelf, half its title burned off the spine.

Lycanthropy and Lunar Madness: A Clinical Compendium.

The chapters were brutal. You read about the first changes, the muscle pain, the sensory overload. The way magic in the blood would flare, fight back, burn from the inside out. You read about the violence, how the mind slips away when the full moon peaks, how instincts override everything else.

But what caught your atention the most was this:

“In cases of recent infection, the afflicted may experience an attraction fixation, often triggered by proximity to a familiar person. This response is especially common in individuals whose first transformation occurs during adolescence or early adulthood.

The instinct is not always sexual, but it is always possessive. The werewolf’s senses recognize the person as a source of comfort or danger. When comfort, the fixation can lead to obsessive behavior, rut-like symptoms, and irrational aggression if the person is perceived as threatened or unattainable. When danger, it can lead to avoidance or attack. Scent is the most common anchor. Once imprinted, it is nearly impossible for the werewolf to ignore.”

Your throat tightened. You re-read the paragraph five times.

It made sense, too much sense. His distance, his flinching, the way he couldn’t look at you anymore.

Your scent.

You remembered how he looked at you that morning in the Great Hall. How he barely breathed when you stood too close and how he wouldn’t meet your eyes when you asked what happened. And last night in the Atronomy Tower, he said you smelled good and it looked like he wanted to eat you alive.

You closed the book with shaky hands and then checked out four more. You didn’t stop reading until your eyes blurred. You didn’t eat or go to class.

By the time the sky outside the window started darkening, you were sitting at a corner table, surrounded by open tomes and loose parchment covered in frantic notes—everything you could find about Wolfsbane, Snape’s potion-making reputation, the legal status of werewolves in magical Britain, and every known case of student infection in the last fifty years.

You turned the page again.

Magical Intervention

“Wolfsbane Potion, taken daily during the week of the full moon, prevents transformation but does not erase the instinctual response. It is crucial that young werewolves are supervised during their first year of turning, especially if they experience early signs of rut.

If left unmonitored, the werewolf may become a threat not only to others—but to themselves.”

You found another book next. Not on lycanthropy, but on magical trauma. It mentioned Professor Snape by name.

“A known expert in dark creatures and cursed bloodlines, Professor Severus Snape has played a role in the treatment and monitoring of several underage werewolf cases, particularly after the war.”

You sat there for a long time, staring at the page, your mind buzzing. Snape knew, he was involved and he wasn’t just keeping the secret, he was managing it.

Which meant whatever happened to Jisung—Snape had seen it before. And he’d chosen not to tell you a thing.

You sat there in silence, your hands numb on the table. Snape had told him to stay away from you, that much was obvious now. But no one had told you what being near him could do.

You weren’t afraid of him. But for the first time, you understood why he was of you.

You left the library as the sky was starting to pale with early morning light, the forbidden books still echoing in your thoughts. You didn’t bother going to class again. You went directly to Snape’s office instead and waited there. When he finally arrived, he paused mid-step at the sight of you.

“Miss Y/N,” he said flatly. “You are not scheduled to meet with me.”

“No,” you said, stepping forward. “But I’m not leaving until you tell me the truth, sir.”

His eyes narrowed. “I beg your par—”

“Did you know?” you cut in, voice trembling with restrained rage. “Did you know what would happen to him?”

“I’m not sure what you’re referring to.”

“I know that Jisung got attacked by a werewolf.”

Snape stilled.

“I went to the restricted section,” you continued. “I know what werewolves go through. I know about the rut cycle. The way someone can trigger it just by being close… Did you know it would be me?”

He didn’t speak, and that silence was an answer.

You took another step toward him. “You told him to stay away, didn’t you?”

Still silent.

You laughed bitterly. “What, were you going to wait until I ended up on the courtyard floor with his teeth in my neck before you decided to warn me?”

“Lower your voice,” Snape said sharply, eyes flicking toward the empty corridor.

“No,” you snapped. “You don’t get to tell me what to do now when you left me in the dark about everything.”

“He is alive and you’re safe because of me,” he said sharply. “Do not mistake silence for neglect.”

“He’s barely alive,” you fired back. “He’s walking around like a ghost and you expect me to believe that’s your idea of help?”

“You think you want the truth but the truth is messy and dangerous. And the truth, Miss Y/N…” he stalked closer to you, almost menacingly “… is that your friend is not who he was anymore.”

“I know that!” you shouted, voice cracking. “But you made him think he was dangerous.”

“He is.”

“No,” you said fiercely. “He’s just scared and you’re feeding it.”

Snape’s eyes narrowed. “You have no idea what a werewolf in rut is capable of.”

“I do now.” You stepped closer again, voice trembling. “I’m not stupid or fragile. And I’m not going to stay away just because you think it’s better that way.”

“Miss Y/N—”

“No,” you snapped. “You can’t “protect me” by locking him away like some creature. He’s not a danger to me. What’s dangerous is isolating him, making him ashamed of something he didn’t choose.”

Snape’s mouth pressed into a thin line.

“And what will you do, then?” he asked. “If he loses control?”

“I’ll help him.” You exhaled, hands trembling. “I’m not afraid of him and he needs someone who isn’t.”

There was a long pause. Snape looked at you with something like pitty. Then he spoke, carefully.

“Then you’d better learn how to handle what’s coming.”

Knowing about Jisung’s condition didn’t bring the relief you thought it would. If anything, it made everything worse. Because now you understood that there was almost nothing you could do to save him from himself. And, like Professor Snape said, the safest option was to stay far away.

And you tried, but it was so hard.

You'd find yourself turning to complain about Professor Binns's endless lectures, only to realize it wasn't Jisung beside you, but Renjun—quiet, studious Renjun who never dared utter a complaint in class.

Or when you walked toward the kitchens out of habit, thinking maybe you'd sweet-talk the elves into some pumpkin tarts, only to remember it was Jisung who always did the charming.

Or when the night sky looked especially clear and you found yourself wanting to stargaze but realizing no one else knew how to trace constellations on your palm with their fingertip. And you couldn’t even remember their names without Jisung pointing them out to you.

Renjun tried. He filled the empty seat at meals, nodded at the right moments when you rambled, even agreed to sneak out once or twice. But he wasn’t Jisung. He didn’t know your weird inside jokes, didn’t lean his head on your shoulder when he got sleepy, didn’t touch your wrist when you got nervous.

You missed him so deeply it ached.

So, when you saw him slipping out of the common room one night you followed him without a second thought.

He moved quickly across the grounds, his hooded shape skimming the moonlit grass. You jogged to keep up, keeping low behind hedges and statues until he stopped beside the Whomping Willow. Your breath caught as he pressed a knot at the roots and the tree froze mid‑sway, its branches locking in eerie stillness. Then, an entrance yawned open.

You hesitated. Every instinct screamed that going after him was a terrible idea. But the thought of him hurting or worse, hurting alone was too much to bear.

So you followed.

The tunnel led you into the Shrieking Shack. A chill raced down your spine the moment you stepped inside. Rot and mildew clung to the walls, the floorboards seemed like they would give way with each step, and it smelled like old nightmares in there. You had to bite down on your lip to keep from gagging but you kept going, following the sounds of his ragged breathing upstairs into a dusty room.

You opened the door cautiously, barely an inch—but before you could fully register what was happening, Jisung lunged. He grabbed your arm, yanking you roughly inside and pinning you to the sagging mattress with a strength that startled you.

"Jisung—!" you gasped.

He loomed over you, eyes wild, glowing gold in the darkness. His expression was pained, almost feral.

"What—are you doing here?" he growled through gritted teeth. His voice was deep and barely recognizable.

You stared up at him, wide-eyed. “I—I was worried. You missed all your classes…”

Something dark flared in his gaze, and he dropped his head, panting harshly against your throat. He inhaled deeply, shuddering as he pressed closer instinctively. Your breath hitched sharply, your body reacting involuntarily to his closeness.

"You shouldn't have come," he whispered brokenly, hands trembling where they gripped your wrists.

You swallowed, feeling his hips press involuntarily against yours and realizing exactly what was happening.

"Your rut," you whispered breathlessly, realization flooding you. "It's started, hasn't it?"

A helpless whimper slid from his throat as his hips rocked against you once more, his erection pressing unmistakably through his trousers. The desperate sound he made sent heat pooling in your stomach, despite the fear and confusion swirling inside you.

“You smell so fucking… good” He let out another ragged noise, and you reached out instinctively, resting a trembling hand against his cheek. His skin burned under your palm. He looked almost delirious, golden eyes flickering between human fear and something more feral.

You’d spent the past week reading about werewolves and their ruts, absorbing every detail you could from hidden texts and restricted tomes. You knew that once the rut hit, the urge for physical intimacy would become nearly unbearable. You also knew it was dangerous for you to be near him like this.

But as you stared at your best friend, trembling and half-broken with need, your heart clenched. You couldn’t just walk away.

“Jisung,” you said carefully, your voice shaking. “Did you take the Wolfsbane?”

He shook his head, eyes squeezing shut. “I don’t know… I think I didn’t—” He broke off, a pained groan tearing from his throat as he rocked forward, hips searching for contact.

Swallowing hard, you remembered the passage in the book. How an afflicted werewolf needed a trusted partner to help ease the rut’s consuming effects.

It felt like your heart was in your mouth.

“You—” he gasped, voice faint. “You can’t stay. I—if I hurt you—”

You cupped his other cheek, forcing his gaze to meet yours. “You won’t,” you promised, though a part of you wasn’t entirely sure.

“Y/N,” he groaned, hips rutting forward again. “Don’t. Don’t touch me right now, I swear—”

“I want to help you,” you said softly. “Please let me.”

His pupils dilated immediately and he let out a shaky breath, leaning into your touch. The heat radiating from him was overwhelming but despite your own hammering pulse, you didn’t draw away.

Because somewhere deep inside, you knew this was the only way to help him.

His grip on your waist was bruising, claws just barely retracted. His body was sweat-slicked and trembling, panting through gritted teeth as he pressed himself flush against you.

“I warned you,” he growled, voice shaky with restraint. “I told you to leave.”

You pulled him closer up and felt how he shook under your touch. “You can have me”

He didn’t wait another second. Your clothes were suddenly nothing, the fabric ripped under his desperate hands. Your skin was bare before you had time to register the sound of seams tearing. His mouth found your throat instinctively, tongue tasting your pulse before he bit.

You winced at the pain and his hips rutted against your thigh, hard and frantic, his cock felt thick and straining through his trousers. He was whining soft, broken sounds between gritted teeth, like each second without you wrapped around him was tearing him open from the inside.

“You smell—fuck, you smell so good,” he gasped into your skin, humping against you harder. “I need—i need to be inside, I need—”

You spread your legs, breathless, head spinning from the force of it all. “I’m here, Sungie.”

He didn’t prep you, didn’t pause for a second—just spit on his fingers and shoved them inside you hard and fast. Stretching you wide while whispering obscenities you couldn’t even make sense of.

“So fucking tight—fuck—gonna ruin you—fill you up, knot you, make sure no one else ever gets to—”

You didn’t even realize he’d taken his cock out until you felt him line himself up with shaking hands, barely getting the tip in before he snapped his hips forward, burying himself inside you in one brutal thrust.

You cried out and Jisung growled, slamming his hand beside your head, forehead pressed to yours, golden eyes glazed over.

“Mine,” he gasped. “Fuck… Mine. Mine. Mine—”

Suddenly, he shoved your knees up, pressing them tightly to your chest as his hips snapped forward, rough and desperate. You cried out sharply, feeling stretched too wide, overwhelmed by the rawness of him filling you again and again. His teeth dragged harshly against your throat, marking you repeatedly, as if he couldn't bear the thought of anyone mistaking you for anything but his.

You sobbed beneath him, your body caught between pain and a pleasure that blurred into something unbearable. Part of you wondered numbly if it would have changed anything if you'd told Jisung it was your first time—if it would've made him pause, slow down, be gentler. But you knew it wouldn't have mattered. He wasn't fully himself, and even if some part of him wanted to stop, he couldn't.

You felt it then, the swelling at his base. His knot beginning to expand, stretching your entrance wider with every punishing thrust. Panic mixed with need, your mind spinning as your walls spasmed around him.

“Gonna knot you,” he panted desperately, voice breaking as he slammed into you harder. “Can’t stop—fuck, you feel so perfect—gonna keep you like this forever—”

He thrust deeply one last time and locked himself inside, his knot catching and sealing him within you. You screamed, body jolting at the sudden fullness, the pressure almost too much. He shuddered violently above you, his cum flooding hot and deep, twitching through aftershocks that made your thighs quake and your vision blur.

You barely had time to gasp a breath before his knot began to soften, still pulsing faintly inside you. But Jisung didn’t stop, not even for a moment.

Before you could recover, he flipped you roughly onto your stomach, the mattress creaking sharply beneath you. He pressed into you again slowly, his breathing ragged and hot against your sweat-damp back. You trembled uncontrollably beneath him, arms shaking, barely able to keep yourself upright.

“Jisung, wait—” your voice broke, a thin plea lost beneath the rasp of his breath.

But he didn’t acknowledge your begging. One hand pinned your hip firmly, the other flattened between your shoulders, forcing you down into the sheets until you couldn’t move. You felt the ache building again as he pushed inside you once more, pushing mercilessly against your walls. Your thighs burned, your body instinctively arching to escape the overstimulation, but he wouldn’t allow you to shift away.

The moment he felt how wet and open you still were, the last shred of his restraint shattered. His rhythm turned frantic, his hips slamming into yours so fiercely the air was knocked from your lungs with every brutal stroke.

You moaned helplessly into the sheets, fingers clawing at the mattress as your body surrendered. He wasn’t speaking now, wasn’t asking if you were okay—all you heard were harsh, ragged sounds torn from his throat, desperate noises so primal and raw they made your skin burn hot with shameful need.

His movements grew rougher, your bodies locked in a rhythm that erased any remaining thought from your mind. Your senses narrowed until all you knew was the brutal heat between your thighs and the ache of him stretching you. You took every thrust, helpless to stop, unable to do anything but accept the ruthless force of his body on yours.

His teeth bit sharply into the back of your shoulder, fangs scraping against your skin until you gasped in pain. His grip tightened, fingers bruising your hips as he pounded into you without mercy, branding you with every brutal snap of his hips.

With one final thrust, he buried himself impossibly deep, and you felt the knot swell again—filling you, stretching you beyond limits as he locked himself inside with a guttural growl.

His whole body jerked, cock throbbing violently as he spilled into you again. It was so much cum it leaked around the thick swell of his knot, your walls clenching tight, helpless to hold it all in. He held still, panting, hands trembling as he stayed buried in you, locked and pulsing.

He stayed inside you for what felt like forever, body trembling from release, your muscles fluttering weakly around him. His breath came in uneven bursts against your skin.

But even then, you could feel that he wasn’t finished.

He rutted again and let out a feral sound low in his throat, one that sounded more like a growl than a moan. And then he was moving just enough to slip free with a wet sound that made both of you shiver.

His hands moved to your waist, lifting you. He dragged you onto your back again, spread your thighs wide, and settled between them with a single-minded hunger that made your whole body pulse with anticipation.

His gaze dropped the moment he pushed back in and he groaned, eyes locked between your legs with an obsessive intensity. Your walls clenched around him as his cock slid in with zero resistance. His breath hitched, and he stopped for just a second.

His mouth parted when he saw the shape of him pushing inside you, deep enough to press against your belly, the bulge rising with every brutal thrust. He pressed his palm against it and let out a wrecked moan. The sight of his cock inside your belly driving him halfway mad.

“Fuck,” he choked. “That's me? inside you?”

You tried to answer, but all that came out was a gasp as he rocked into you harder.

He watched your stomach move with every stroke, how your cunt took all of him, again and again, walls fluttering around his cock like your body was desperate to keep him.

He was mesmerized. Staring with wide, hungry eyes as hips snapped forward with more force. One of his hands grabbed your thigh, the other pressing to your lower belly as he kept thrusting, rougher this time, watching the bulge disappear and return with every movement.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “you’re made for this—fuck—you’re made to take me like this—”

You could feel the knot swelling again, dragging harder against your soaked, overstretched entrance, until your legs started to shake. He braced both hands on either side of your hips, growled deep in his chest, and slammed forward. The knot forced its way in with a brutal stretch that made your eyes roll back.

His whole body jerked, head falling forward as a strangled moan left his lips. His cock twitched violently, knot fully buried, and you felt the rush of his cum flooding you again, deeper this time, deeper than anything had ever been.

His eyes were still locked on your lower stomach, wide and blown out with awe. The bulge in your belly pulsed with each twitch of his knot, round and taut with the sheer amount he’d pumped into you

“Look at that,” he whispered, almost dazed. “Look what I did to you.”

He reached out again, fingertips brushing against your stomach and the possessiveness in his voice made your body clench all over again.

“I'm inside you.”

He blinked, his eyes flickering to your face as he really looked at you for the first time.

You were trembling, bruised, and barely able to keep your legs from shaking. Your eyes were glassy, your body completely spent beneath him. And something in him seemed to return.

His hands gentled against your skin as he eased out of you slowly, knot slipping free with an aching stretch that made you whimper. You gasped at the sudden emptiness, but he didn’t leave you long. He kissed your thigh once, softly, as if in apology, and then lowered himself between your legs.

You barely had the strength to lift your head. “Ji—what are you doing…”

But he didn’t answer. Just held your thighs gently in his hands, spreading them open again but this time with reverence, not greed.

Then he licked a single, languid drag of his tongue that made your hips twitch weakly. He groaned low in his throat at the taste of you.

You whimpered, the oversensitivity almost unbearable but his hands kept you grounded. Thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your hips, mouth moving with an aching kind of care. He sucked gently at your clit, tongue flicking in slow passes, easing the pain into something warmer.

You threaded trembling fingers through his hair, tugging gently.

His mouth grew more desperate by the second, tongue dipping lower and teasing at your entrance where his cum was still leaking out. He groaned at the taste, sucking softly, messy and slow, like he couldn’t get enough of it. Of you.

He buried himself there with his nose pressed into your skin, mouth drinking you. You let out a soft cry, hips twitching against his face, and his grip tightened just enough to hold you still as he circled your clit again, tender but insistent.

“I need to make it better,” he murmured into your skin, voice hoarse and reverent. “Let me—please…”

You didn’t answer but the way your legs shook around his head told him everything. So he stayed there—worshipping the mess he made, tongue moving slow and devoted, lips soft and endless. He lost himself in you.

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was the pain.

It was deep and dull at first, but the moment you shifted, it sharpened—radiating through your thighs, your lower back, your hips. Your skin felt hot, stretched too thin in some places, sore in others. You winced as you tried to sit up, limbs trembling slightly from the effort.

Jisung was already awake. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, facing away from you, his robes wrapped tightly around him. His shoulders were stiff.

You swallowed through the dryness in your throat. “Ji?”

He stood up without looking at you.

You watched him move across the room, hands twitching at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them. He picked up your clothes from the floor—torn in multiple places, seams ripped from how desperately he’d removed them the night before—and with a flick of his wand, the fabric mended itself slowly in the air.

“Get dressed,” he said flatly. “I’ll help you get back to the hospital wing.”

You blinked. “Back to the—what?”

He turned then, just slightly, just enough to look at you briefly. His eyes were guilt-ridden.

“You’re hurt,” he said. “I can see it.”

Your mouth opened, but no words came out.

“And I’m going to Snape later,” he continued. “I’m going to ask him to relocate me during the next cycle. Somewhere far from here.”

You stared at him, stunned. “Jisung, you don’t have to—”

“I do,” he snapped. “Because this—” He gestured toward you, his voice colder now. “This shouldn’t have happened.”

Your heart twisted.

“I told you to stay away,” he said. “And I didn’t mean that to sound cruel. I meant it because I knew I’d lose control. And I did… and now look at you.”

He walked toward the cracked mirror, stopped a few feet in front of it, and gestured for you to come closer.

You hesitated.

“Please,” he said, quieter now. “Just… come here.”

You stood slowly, legs shaking slightly under your weight. You wrapped yourself in the blanket and stepped toward the mirror.

Your reflection made your breath hitch.

There were bruises on your neck, angry bite marks along your collarbone and shoulder. Finger-shaped welts on your hips and thighs. Your lips were still swollen from where he’d kissed you too hard. Some of the marks looked deep. Others looked like they might last days, if not longer.

“I didn’t know I was capable of this,” Jisung said behind you, voice cracking.

You looked at him through the mirror. His face was pale, jaw tight.

“I’d rather suffer the worst pain a rut could ever give me than ever touch you like that again.”

“Jisung—”

“No,” he cut you off. “You don’t understand. I didn’t even care if I was hurting you. I couldn’t think. You could’ve cried, begged, screamed, and I still would’ve—”

He stopped himself, breathing hard.

“I’m not going to let this happen again. I’ll talk to Snape. I’ll take whatever dose he gives me. I’ll lock myself somewhere no one can find me.”

You stepped forward, reaching for him, but he flinched when your fingers brushed his sleeve.

He turned his face away. “Get dressed,” he said quietly. “Please.”

There was nothing else to say.

He handed you your clothes without looking at you again. When you were dressed, he silently moved to support your weight down the stairs and back toward the tunnel beneath the Whomping Willow.

Your legs ached with every step. Jisung’s arm was around your waist, holding you upright as you moved slowly down the path back to the castle, your freshly repaired clothes felt stiff and uncomfortable against your bruised skin.

You hadn’t said a word since leaving the Shrieking Shack. Neither had he.

His touch wasn’t warm, or comforting. It was careful and detached. Like he was holding you not out of care, but out of obligation.

Your heart hurt more than your body. You two had been close for so long. Even after he’d changed, after he came back cold, distant, guarded you still felt more warmth than right now. Like he was reaching for you even when he didn’t realize it. So seeing him acting like this was almost unbearable.

You tried to tell yourself it wasn’t rejection or shame. That he was just protecting you, trying to keep you safe. But it still felt like being left behind.

You didn’t even realize how close you were to the castle until the path curved and the first archway of the courtyard came into view.

“Park.”

Professor Snape stood just beyond the arch, his arms crossed over his chest, black robes billowing faintly in the wind. His gaze flicked over the two of you quickly. His eyes dropped to the way you leaned into Jisung, to your limp. And then he saw the bruises. Even with your collar pulled tight, they peeked out, the edges of bite marks and the faint discoloration just beneath the skin.

Snape’s eyes narrowed.

“Come here,” he said, voice cold.

Jisung didn’t move.

Snape stepped forward. “Now.”

You felt the panic rise in your chest immediately.

“Professor, wait. It’s not—he didn’t—” You reached for his sleeve. “He didn’t force me.”

Snape’s eyes snapped to yours, and for a moment, you almost stepped back. His expression didn’t change, but something in it darkened like your words had confirmed what he already suspected.

“I didn’t ask what he did,” he said sharply. “I asked him to come with me.”

Jisung’s jaw was clenched so tightly it looked painful. He didn’t say a word, just let go of you carefully.

You nearly stumbled from the sudden absence of support.

“I can explain—” you tried again, but Snape raised a hand.

“This is not your responsibility,” he said, more quietly this time. “And you are in no condition to be standing here arguing.”

He turned to Jisung once more.

“Park. Now.”

And without looking back at you, Jisung walked toward him.

You stood there trembling, arms wrapped around yourself, the chill settling deeper into your bones now that he was gone.

Jisung stood in the doorway of Snape’s office with his head hung low. The potions master had stepped away to ensure you made it safely to the hospital wing and to explain the delicate situation to the healers. Minutes stretched on endlessly until finally, he heard the sharp clack of Snape's shoes approaching.

“Go in,” Snape ordered coldly, gesturing toward the open door. The Hufflepuff obeyed silently.

Snape shut the office door behind them with a flick of his wand. The room smelled of ash and damp parchment, but Jisung could still smell your scent stronger than anything else; it clung to him, saturated his senses.

“Sit,” Snape instructed curtly.

Jisung lowered himself into the hard chair opposite the desk, shoulders slumped. He couldn’t bring himself to meet Snape’s eyes.

“How is she?” he asked softly, voice raw.

“She’ll live,” Snape replied coolly, summoning a few vials and herbs onto his desk. “Madam Pomfrey is treating the bruising you saw fit to decorate her with.”

Jisung’s head snapped up, panic clear in his gaze. “I—I bit her. More than once.” The admission spilled out before he could stop himself, heavy with guilt and shame. “Does that mean—”

“No,” Snape interjected sharply. “The curse passes only when the biter is fully transformed under the full moon. You were saturated with Wolfsbane, half-shifted but not contagious.”

Jisung exhaled sharply, gripping the chair arms until his knuckles whitened. Relief flooded him, but Snape wasn't done.

“However,” Snape continued, voice lowering dangerously, “do not delude yourself into believing she was truly safe. Had you missed even one additional dose, or had the moon been at its peak, she would already share your curse, and that responsibility would lie entirely with you.”

Jisung flinched. “I know. I—I keep hurting her. I keep losing control, and no matter how much I try to stay away, something just…pulls me back. I don’t know how to stop it.”

Snape regarded him for a moment in silence before speaking, voice softer but still edged with steel. “That’s because it is no longer a matter of mere control. You've complicated things significantly, Park.”

Jisung looked up slowly, eyes wide with apprehension. “What do you mean?”

Snape folded his hands on the desk, expression severe yet composed. “By marking her during your rut, you've effectively chosen Miss Y/N as your mate.”

Jisung’s breath caught, his throat tightening painfully. "Mate? I—what does that mean?”

“It means,” Snape explained, calm and clinical, “that your wolf has identified her specifically as an anchor. Such mate-bonds occur most commonly during adolescence, particularly around a first transformation. It's why you find yourself physically unable to stay away for long.”

Jisung swallowed, panic bubbling up again. “Is it dangerous? Will I hurt her more?”

“Not inherently,” Snape said evenly. “But the bond is permanent, Park. Your wolf will always crave her presence—most intensely near the full moon or during rut. Ignoring it will only worsen your aggression.”

“Then…what can I do?” Jisung asked desperately. “How do I keep her safe?”

“You must never skip your Wolfsbane. Take it every evening at sundown and report to me regularly so we can adjust dosage accordingly. Furthermore, and pay attention to this, you must manage your bond carefully. You cannot fight it entirely so stay close to her but with awareness, not indulgence. ”

Jisung flushed deeply. “But… after everything I've done, how can I risk being close to her again?”

Snape leaned forward slightly. “The greater risk lies in distance, your instincts will spiral. Proximity is crucial but do not confuse instinct for entitlement.”

Jisung nodded slowly, the weight of responsibility settling heavily onto his shoulders. “Does she…know?”

“She soon will,” Snape replied quietly. “But it is essential she hears it clearly from you. Be honest and thorough. Do you understand me, Park?”

“Yes, sir,” Jisung whispered. “I won't fail her again.”

Snape regarded him a moment longer, then produced a fresh vial of Wolfsbane, setting it decisively on the desk. “Good. Now leave before I decide silence is insufficient punishment.”

Jisung rose unsteadily, clutching the vial to his chest. He walked slowly to the threshold, feeling every step heavy with responsibility. Just as he reached the door, Snape spoke once more.

“Park, if you truly care for the girl, learn how to live with the wolf without letting it consume her.”

The door sealed shut behind him, and Jisung stood for a long moment in the corridor, the potion trembling slightly in his grip.

You lay on one of the hospital wing beds, half-covered by a sterile white blanket, the curtains drawn tightly around you. The air was too quiet, every sound outside muted by the silencing charm Madam Pomfrey had casted when she left you there.

You picked at your cuticles absently, barely noticing the sting where skin peeled back. Your hospital gown gaped at the shoulders, revealing the bruises along your arms in the shape of fingers. Jisung’s fingers. You should’ve been horrified and maybe you were a little bit but there was something strangely comforting about them. His hands had held you through something painful, but they had held you. It made you feel... needed. Like you mattered to him again.

Your thoughts scattered when the curtain parted and Madam Pomfrey stepped through, her face tight with concern. Behind her came Professor Sprout, head of Hufflepuff house. And just before the curtain fell shut again, you caught the edge of black robes retreating down the ward—Snape. He’d definitely told them everything.

You bit your lip and dropped your gaze.

“Hello, dear,” Pomfrey said gently. When you didn’t answer, she cleared her throat. “To begin with, I’d like to offer you a calming draught for the pain.”

“I’m fine,” you said quietly, though your whole body ached. You didn’t want to take anything that would fog your thoughts. You needed to stay alert to explain the situation.

“Well…” she murmured, unconvinced. “Then I’ll start with the surface wounds.”

She gestured toward the scratches and crescent-shaped bites along your shoulders and collarbone. You stayed still while she worked.

Professor Sprout stepped closer, arms folded tightly across her chest. “Miss Y/LN,” she began carefully. “There’s no need to be guarded with us. We’re not here to punish you… but there are a few matters that need to be addressed.”

You nodded wordlessly, eyes fixed on a wrinkle in the bedsheet.

“Madam Pomfrey will heal what she can,” she continued. “But the bite marks will take several days to fade. Magical injuries of this nature are… stubborn.”

“I understand,” you murmured. The marks didn’t bother you.

Professor Sprout hesitated, color rising faintly in her cheeks. “We also understand that Mr. Park was… in a heightened state when you were intimate.”

You saw her flinch slightly at her own words and you almost pitied her. There was no elegant way to discuss something like this. You nodded once.

“Am I correct to assume no contraceptive charms were cast beforehand?”

Your brows pulled together. You’d never studied contraceptive spells properly. You knew they were meant to be used before any intimacy though and given how everything had happened there hadn’t been time for anything like that. You shook your head slowly.

Professor Sprout exchanged a brief look with Pomfrey before exhaling slowly. “Very well. Madam Pomfrey will now perform a diagnostic charm to ensure no unintended consequences arise from your… encounter.”

You nodded again, tending slight when Madam Pomfrey raised her wand and murmured a spell. A pale lavender glow swept across your lower abdomen then faded without a flicker.

“No conception,” she announced softly. “Everything is normal.”

A breath you hadn’t realized you were holding slipped out and you noticed Professor Sprout’s shoulders ease a fraction.

Pomfrey lowered her wand, relief softening the stern set of her mouth. Then she hesitated, studying you over the rims of her spectacles.

“Dear, may I give you some practical advice?”

You nodded, cheeks still furiously warm.

She lifted her wand again. “There are several reliable contraceptive charms you can use. The simplest is Praeventa Conceptum. It’s quick, painless, and lasts a whole day.”

Professor Sprout cleared her throat delicately but said nothing.

Pomfrey demonstrated. She pointed her wand at her own midsection. “Circle once, clockwise, like so.” A pale halo of light traced the motion. “Then speak Prae‑ven‑ta Con‑cep‑tum. Stress on the second syllable of each word. The charm settles just beneath the skin and it’s a mild warming sensation, nothing more.”

You mimicked the motion in the air, whispering the incantation under your breath. A faint peach‑colored glow sparked at your wand tip and faded.

“Good,” Madam Pomfrey said, satisfied. “Remember, the charm must be renewed daily, and it is far more reliable when cast prior to any sexual activity.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, both grateful and faintly embarrassed.

Professor Sprout offered a small, reassuring nod. “Better to learn here than under far less ideal circumstances.”

Pomfrey tucked her wand away. “Knowledge is its own protection.”

“Again, you are not at fault for any of this,” Sprout added, voice firm. “Last night’s events were influenced by circumstances far beyond your control.”

“Is he okay?” you asked softly.

A shadow crossed the professor’s eyes. “Mr. Park is with Professor Snape now, discussing the seriousness of missing future doses of Wolfsbane.” Her tone suggested ‘discussion’ meant something closer to a dressing‑down. “He’ll be monitored closely.”

“It wasn’t his fault,” you said, fingers worrying the edge of the sheet. “I followed him there, fully aware of the consequences. I just wanted to help… and I don’t regret it.”

Madam Pomfrey’s brows knit, but it was Professor Sprout who spoke first. “Miss Y/L/N, no one here is assigning blame. What matters now is that both of you are safe, and that Mr. Park remains diligent with his potion.” Her gaze softened. “Your loyalty is commendable, but your well‑being is equally important.”

You nodded, swallowing the dryness in your throat. “I know.”

Pomfrey dabbed a final line of salve across the deepest bite mark. “You’ll be sore,” she said gently, “but you’ll heal. Rest here tonight, at least until breakfast.”

The curtain swayed gently as they left you alone, and you stared ahead thinking only of the warmth of his breath, the panic in his voice, and the way he’d whispered “you shouldn’t have come” like it had broken him to see you there.

But you would do it all again.

Madam Pomfrey cleared you for release just after sunrise. You dressed in silence, fingers brushing over the gauze she’d left on the deepest bite. She offered one last vial of bruise balm and a faint smile before sending you off.

It was Saturday, thank Merlin. There were no classes so most students were still sleeping. You were relieved as you stepped out of the hospital wing, and saw nothing but an empty corridor.

Though still a strange, hollow pressure settled in your chest. You missed Jisung.

You weren’t sure if it was the residual ache in your muscles, or the fading imprints he’d left on your body, but you felt the absence of him like it was stitched into your skin. You needed to see him.

And then, as if your thoughts conjured him, he appeared.

Jisung was standing at the other end of the hallway, just beyond the shaft of sunlight spilling in from the tall windows. He looked stunned to see you, like he hadn’t meant to be here, like his feet had brought him without his permission.

You hesitated.

Snape had surely warned him again—more strictly this time—to stay away from you. But still, Jisung took a step forward and you followed.

You met in the middle of the hallway, stopping close enough that your chests nearly touched. It wasn’t until you were standing in front of him that you realized how much he’d changed. He was taller now, just slightly, but it was enough to notice. His shoulders were broader, his presence heavier, like the wolf was still there beneath the surface.

He stared at the bruises along your collarbone, what little was visible through the open neck of your shirt. You saw the way his throat bobbed, how his eyes flickered with guilt.

“Are you—?”

“I’m okay, Ji,” you cut in gently, offering him a small smile. “Perfectly fine.”

“I’m so sorry.”

He exhaled shakily, and his hand reached for yours tentatively. You almost gasped at the contact. It had been so long since he touched you first. His fingers threaded through yours like they were remembering how easily he did this all the time before.

“You don’t have to be,” you whispered. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Your other hand rose instinctively, brushing against his cheek. He leaned into the touch immediately, eyes fluttering closed.

“Did Snape scold you too badly?” you asked, voice soft and teasing.

Jisung cracked a smile. “Yeah, I have to clean the Quidditch stands every day this winter without magic.”

Your eyes widened. “Seriously?”

He laughed. “I’m joking.” He paused, eyes searching yours. “Though honestly… I think I deserved one.”

You squeezed his hand gently. “You’ve been punished enough.”

He didn’t respond, just looked at you like he was still trying to figure out if this moment was real.

The corridor felt suddenly too small, so without speaking, you guided Jisung toward the nearest side door that opened onto the courtyard. The November air was sharp, but sunlight spilled across damp flagstones and carried the faint scent of wet leaves.

You walked side by side, your shoulders brushing now and then. After a long stretch of silence, Jisung spoke in a quiet voice. “Do you remember fifth year… when we hid in Greenhouse Three during that thunderstorm?”

You smiled. “And you spent the whole time pretending not to be scared of lightning.”

He huffed a soft laugh. “I kept thinking about that last night. How you held my hand and told me storms always pass.” He glanced at you, guilt and wonder warring in his eyes. “I wanted to go there initially. But then I smelled you, and I went to the Shack instead, thinking you wouldn’t follow me into a place like that.” He laughed bitterly. “I should’ve known better.”

The admission loosened something tight inside you. “Storms pass, Ji,” you said. “Even the ones inside us.”

He stopped, turning to face you fully. “Does this one? Because I can still feel it.” His gaze flicked to your neck where a bruise peeked above your collar. “I feel every mark I left on you like they’re on my body, too.”

You lifted a hand to his chest, just over his heartbeat. “You didn’t hurt me.”

He looked at you, like he almost believed it, but the tension in his jaw said otherwise. “Snape told me… the biting… it wasn’t random.” he dropped his gaze and bit his lip nervously “I… marked you.”

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t interrupt.

“He said you’re my mate now,” he said quietly. “That the wolf chose you. That’s why I can’t stay away. Why I can’t stop smelling you, hearing you even when you’re not around. Why it feels like something’s ripping open in my chest when I try to stay away.”

You stood still, eyes locked on his.

“He said I shouldn’t fight it. That if I try to pretend the bond doesn’t exist, it’ll make it worse. That I just have to be… careful and gentle with it. With you.” He exhaled, voice tight. “He said if I really want to protect you, I have to learn how to live with the wolf, not push it down.”

“What did you say?” you finally asked.

“I told him I’d do anything to keep you safe,” Jisung said. “And I meant it.”

You reached for his hand and he let you take it, though his fingers twitched.

“The bond… is that why you came to the Hospital Wing corridor?”

He nodded, shame creasing his brow. “I woke up and… I was already walking there. I didn’t think.”

“Then next time, think and tell me,” you said. “We’ll handle the need together. On our terms.”

He swallowed. “Snape says if I miss a potion… you’ll be in danger first.”

“Then you won’t miss it.” Your tone brooked no argument. “Even if I have to brew it myself.”

A faint smile ghosted his lips. “You’d sit through that smell?”

“I’d sit through worse.” Your thumb stroked over his knuckles.

He exhaled shakily, some of the tension easing, though the gold still flickered behind his eyes like embers. “I’m not safe yet,” he warned.

“That’s okay,” you answered, stepping close until your foreheads touched. “I’m not scared.”

For a while you simply stood in the sunlight, listening to the distant chatter of students who knew nothing about storms or wolves or the way a heartbeat could echo in someone else’s chest. His hand tightened around yours, and instinctively you looked up, meeting his gaze.

His eyes flickered down to your lips, hesitation clear in the tense line of his jaw. Before he could withdraw, before he could overthink it, you stepped on your tippy toes and pressed your mouth gently to his.

It began softly, a cautious brush of lips but it escalated quickly. His mouth opened hungrily, tongue sliding against your teeth, and you gave in with a low sigh. His hand found your waist first, pulling you closer, then slid up to cup the back of your neck, angling your head so he could deepen the kiss. Your fingers tangled through his messy hair, tugging gently. He groaned into your mouth, hips pressing forward instinctively until you were pinned softly against the rough stone wall.

“I can’t lose control again,” he murmured urgently against your lips but still he kissed you harder, as if he couldn’t pull away even if he wanted to.

“You won’t,” you promised breathlessly. “This is fine.”

His hips snapped forward again, pressing you tighter to the stone behind you. You knew you were out in the open—anyone could pass by and see—but caution melted beneath the heat of his mouth trailing down your neck. The dull soreness from the previous night faded to a faint pulse, replaced by something hungrier, as he sucked gently at your throat.

“Ji—” your voice shook softly, hands gripping his robes tighter. “You’re… you’re not still in rut, right?”

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. “No. No, I don’t think so,” he panted roughly, almost like he was convincing himself too. “It doesn’t feel the same as last night, but—” He exhaled shakily, pressing his forehead to yours “I want you. Fuck, I want you so bad—I don’t think I’ll ever stop wanting you.”

A helpless moan escaped you at the raw admission, your pulse quickening under his mouth when he kissed you again—softer now, more controlled, as if he was proving to himself he could do this without falling apart.

“I won’t let myself hurt you again,” he breathed, lips brushing your skin between each whispered word. “But you need to tell me if it’s too much”

You shook your head slightly, pulling him closer still, holding him like he was the only thing keeping you upright. “Ji, nothing’s ever too much with you. Just stay here… stay with me.”

He shivered, his breath hitching as he kissed you again, trying to ground himself in the feeling of you rather than the wild instinct still whispering beneath his skin.

Someone laughed nearby, close enough to remind you exactly where you were.

Jisung froze against you, his forehead dropping to your shoulder with a soft groan. “We need to move,” he muttered “If anyone sees—”

“Then come on,” you said grabbing his hand.

He followed without another word.

You tugged him along a narrow side-corridor, the secret path behind the Herbology wing that only upper years and rule-breakers bothered with. Past the old broom cupboard, beyond the faded tapestry of a witch laughing drunkenly into her wine goblet, your footsteps were quiet, your pulse anything but. It hammered through your veins, in your fingertips, your throat—everywhere Jisung’s hand stayed locked in yours.

Soon you stood outside Greenhouse Three, abandoned since the storm in your fifth year shattered half its glass panes. Now, ivy and moss crawled along the cracked glass walls, and no one had bothered to repair it, leaving the space forgotten and overgrown.

You slipped through the splintered wooden door, pulling him gently behind you.

Inside, sunlight spilled across broken tables and tangled greenery. Plants had grown wild, illing the air with the scent of damp earth, crushed leaves, and something faintly sweet. You felt your chest tighten from the memory of your younger selves hiding here together.

Jisung remembered it too, you could see it in the softening of his eyes, the way his shoulders relaxed slightly. He caught your lips again, slow at first, but deepening fast, pulling a moan from your throat. Your hands gripped the front of his shirt, pulling him in until you tasted him fully.

“I want you inside me,” you whispered against his mouth, fingers trembling as you tugged at his clothes again.

He groaned softly, forehead pressing to yours. “Say it again.”

Your breath shuddered. “I want you to fuck me, Ji. Right now.”

He kissed you once more, messy and desperate, before stepping back just enough to undo his belt. His hands shook slightly, desire evident as he freed his cock—already hard and flushed, leaking at the tip as he positioned himself between your thighs. You lay back on one of the old greenhouse tables, cool beneath your skin but sturdy enough for this.

Jisung dragged the head of his cock through your folds, groaning openly at how wet you were, coating him perfectly. He pressed gently against your entrance, one hand braced beside your head, the other gripping your hip, thumb stroking tenderly.

He met your gaze, eyes filled with heated care. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he rasped, voice thick with want but edged with concern.

You cupped his cheek softly, eyes locked on his. “It’s perfect. It’s always perfect with you…Just fuck me, Ji.”

And he did.

The first thrust was slow, a deep stretch that pulled a gasp straight from your lungs. His cock slid in inch by inch until he bottomed out, and then he just held there, buried inside, groaning like he’d finally found home.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “You’re so tight, you feel so—shit—you feel like you were made for me.”

You clenched around him involuntarily and he hissed, head dropping to your shoulder as he fought the urge to move too fast.

But control didn’t last long. His hips started to roll into yours, picking up a rhythm that got harder with each thrust. The sound of skin slapping echoed off the glass, mixed with your breathy moans and the desperate groans breaking in his throat.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, heels digging into his back, dragging him deeper.

“Yes, yes—right there—don’t stop,” you gasped.

“I won’t,” he growled. “I can’t.”

He drove into you harder, the table creaking beneath you as he pounded into your soaked cunt like he was trying to carve the shape of himself into your body. You arched under him, nails raking down his back through his shirt, gasping every time he bottomed out and hit that spot that made your toes curl.

He pulled out just enough to watch his cock slide back in.

“Look at this,” he breathed, one hand dragging down to your stomach, pressing just above your pubic bone. “Can feel myself right here.”

You could tell Jisung was obsessed with seeing himself inside you, it made his thrusts hit deeper just so he could feel himself in your lower belly. You moaned brokenly, the pressure making it worse, the angle driving you insane.

“Fuck, fuck—I’m gonna come,” you choked. “Don’t stop—please, don’t—”

“I want to feel it,” he growled. “Come on, baby. Come for me.”

Your body clamped down around him, walls spasming hard enough to make Jisung curse violently. He fucked you through it, rough thrusts stuttering until his own orgasm took him.

With a strangled groan, he slammed into you one last time and came hard, cock twitching deep inside you as he filled you again with thick spurts that made your pussy slicker than before.

He collapsed over you, forehead buried in your neck, both of you panting like you’d run for miles. His cock was still buried inside you, twitching with aftershocks.

You dragged your fingers through his hair gently, voice hoarse. “That didn’t feel like your rut.”

He laughed, breathless. “No. That was just me.”

“Are you okay?” he whispered into your neck, voice raw and reverent. “Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head slowly. “You didn’t. You were perfect.”

He sighed against your skin, relief loosening his shoulders. Then, gently—so, so gently—he pulled out, groaning as his cock slipped free from your cunt. The mess between your legs was immediate, warmth spilling down your thighs, and you whimpered at the sensitivity.

“I got you,” he murmured, already reaching for his wand.

He muttered a quiet cleaning charm, careful not to touch you until you nodded. His hand brushed your knee, then your thigh, his fingers trembling as he whispered the incantation again and wiped away the rest with his robe sleeve.

When he was finished, he kissed the inside of your knee, then your hip, then your stomach like it was part of some silent apology only your skin could understand.

“I’m gonna help you down,” he said, voice soft.

You nodded, and he wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you slowly from the table and holding you close while your legs adjusted. You swayed once, but he caught you instantly.

“You’re shaky,” he murmured.

“You fucked my legs numb, Park,” you whispered, trying to smile, and he let out a breathy laugh, burying his face in your neck.

“I’m never letting you go again,” he mumbled. “Not even if Snape drags me out of your bed himself.”

You held onto him tighter, forehead pressed to his collarbone. “You better keep that promise.”

He kissed your temple. Then your cheek. Then the corner of your mouth.

“I will,” he said. “Forever.”

He helped you sit on the edge of the table while he redressed—pulling his trousers back up, refastening his belt with one hand while the other stayed on your knee like he couldn’t bring himself to stop touching you. When he was done, he reached for your discarded panties, blushing faintly as he held them out to you.

“I should’ve asked first,” he said quietly. “Back then. In the shack.”

You looked up at him, heart aching. “You couldn’t. And I already told you… I don’t regret it.”

He nodded, but the guilt lingered behind his eyes. So you took his hand and laced your fingers through his again.

“We’ll be okay,” you said. “You and me.”

“We will,” he whispered.

You dressed in silence together, stealing soft glances and touches, letting the heat cool but not disappear. And when you finally stepped out of the greenhouse, blinking into the pale afternoon light, Jisung’s arm was already around your shoulders holding you close and as steady as the heartbeat you’d heard pounding through his chest not long ago.

And this time, when he kissed you, it wasn’t desperate or rushed. It was quiet and certain.

Like a promise kept.

eeeeek feedback is greatly appreciated! i love reading ur comments and anons <3

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kamaluhkhan · 6 months ago

Text

WE DESERVE A SOFT EPILOGUE, MY LOVE.

pairing: vi x firelight!reader word count: 2k summary: after years of thinking her dead, ekko brings vi to the firelight base. you don't really know how to react when the girl you grew up loving is now a woman you know nothing about and still, somehow, feel everything for. warnings: arcane level angst + lesbian yearning. reader is referred to with she/her pronouns. reader has tattoos and a star-shaped birthmark behind her ear (y'all know vi loves a nickname and i thought 'stargirl' was v cute so i had to make it work). fic gets slightly suggestive at the end ;) author's note: happy act iii release day!!! i wrote this instead of working on my thesis oops. in my defense, vi has sparked something in me that i simply cannot ignore. i'm also working on a werewolf! pitfighter!vi x vampire slayer!reader fic (set in the same universe, just with a slight twist) sooo that might be done before part 2 of this fic (which is where the smut happens hehe). anyways, thank you for reading!

inspired by that quote: "i think we deserve a soft epilogue, my love. we are good people and we've suffered enough" by nikka ursula

even after all these years, vi is still the first one to notice you.

her eyes widen as she hesitates to pull away from ekko, but you clear your throat to catch both of their attentions.

“i thought we were gonna question her together.”

ekko wipes a stray tear from his cheek and stands up a little straighter.

“you were taking too long,” he shrugs. “don’t worry — she’s clean.”

you trust ekko’s judgement, but you still can’t reckon with the fact that vi is alive. you’d splashed cold water on your face just before to make sure you weren’t dreaming.

“i don’t know.” you walk closer until you’re standing arms length from vi. “the vi i knew wouldn’t be caught dead with a topsider, let alone an enforcer.”

you examine her carefully, and you imagine she’s doing the same to you. vi looks more grown up — stronger and sharper. you’d spent so much time in limbo, not knowing if she were alive or dead. you aren’t sure how to react when the girl you grew up loving is now a woman you know nothing about and still, somehow, feel everything for.

“i guess the shoddy undercut is a pretty clear give away,” you deadpan.

vi quirks an eyebrow at you. “shoddy, huh? you know, your tattoos look like they were drawn by blindfolded children.”

she smiles, all bright and toothy. the scar on her upper lip stretches, achingly familiar, and you decide there’s nothing you want to do more than to bring her into your arms, to bring her closer, so you do.

her hair tickles your cheek as you whisper:

“i did those tattoos myself.”

vi chuckles, and you feel it vibrate across her body to yours.

“i know. they’re beautiful.” her index finger traces the star-shaped birthmark behind your ear; you shiver. “i was just messing with you, stargirl.”

vi was the only one who ever called you that, said you made her life brighter or some other sweet nothing that would effortlessly fall from her mouth.

gods, she was the first one who even noticed that birthmark on your skin.

“i was messing with you, too. the hair — you look hot.”

you feel her heart beating faster against your chest as she smiles into your shoulder.

she’s here.

she’s not some ghost from your past.

she’s really here.

you’re so overwhelmed by how solid she is against you that you start to pull away, but vi catches your hand before you can fully untangle yourself from her.

“that’s all i get?” she wonders, licking her lips.

you’re tempted, very tempted, to give her more. maybe you would have, until ekko clears his throat behind you.

“should i….give y’all a moment?” ekko asks. “i’ll go get the piltie.”

you then remember who vi came here with; she might not be working for silco, but you stand by your suspicions at her bringing a topsider to the lanes.

you slip your hand from hers. you roll your shoulders back as if that would really shake away the hold she’s always had on you.

time has passed. things have changed. neither of you are kids anymore, and you don't have the luxury of indulging in a frivolous crush.

“it's fine, e. let’s show them around.”

“still a night owl, i see.”

vi finds you perched on one of the trees highest branches, surrounded by firelights as you sketch something. you close your sketchbook instantly and place it on the other side of you when vi sits down.

“thought you’d be in bed with that enforcer of yours.”

“her name’s caitlyn.”

“caitlyn,” you scoff, shaking your head.

the bitterness you try to hide is all too transparent to vi, who has to bite back a laugh at your pettiness.

“you say her name like you’re gonna hex her. never pegged you as a jealous ex.”

“technically, we never broke up,” you point out.

a firelight lands on your hand, and you let it crawl up the lines etched on your skin.

“if that’s the case, i owe you an apology for cheating on you when i was in prison.”

you frown, but say nothing, your eyes following that same firelight as it illuminates your tattoos.

“don’t worry, i’m kidding!” vi pauses. “mostly.”

the firelight flies away, and you huff out an annoyed breath.

“whatever. i don’t care who you’ve fucked, or who you’re fucking. and, you don’t owe me anything. it’s not like we’re anything to each other, anymore.”

vi sucks in a sharp breath — she wouldn’t have expected such harsh words from you.

“is that why you can’t even look at me?” she finally asks.

you’d been strictly business since you first reunited hours ago. you expertly distanced yourself from vi all throughout the tour of the firelights’ base, and throughout dinner, too.

where’s the girl she’d spend hours goofing around with, who always had a witty response to her sarcastic remarks, who smiled at her in such a way that made her chest glow? where’s the girl who brightened vi’s life when it seemed like the darkness would never leave?

“i don’t know,” you admit. “part of me still can’t believe you’re alive. i know that i should be happy that you are, but i keep thinking about everything i could have done to protect you, and powder —”

“hey. it’s my job to worry about everyone, remember?”

“you weren’t here.”

“i am now.”

she gently moves your chin so that you face her, so that you can see that she’s not going anywhere, at least for tonight.

which is probably more time than either of you thought you’d ever have together again.

vi notices how your eyes flick down to her lips and back up, and she feels something spark in her chest. but then, you shake your head as though trying to wake up from a dream and turn away once more.

“that enforcer of yours —”

“she’s not my —”

“whoever she is, she talked about how we all need to heal. i just keep thinking about what you’ve been through, what we’ve all been through…. how it never really stops. healing would be nice, but it’s hard when you have to keep fighting every day. you remember what ekko said, about why we chose this place?”

of course, she remembers.

“that if even a seed can survive down here, maybe we could, too.”

“we. who’s ‘we,’ vi?” you laugh, but there’s no joy behind it. “we’ve gotten used to surviving without each other. maybe it was meant to be that way.”

“that’s not fair.”

“a lot of things aren’t fair.” you gesture around at the base. “this — this community — took blood, sweat, and tears to build and i just know how easy it would be for someone to destroy it all. which is why we fight, obviously, to protect all this and each other, but i’m scared that we can only do so for so long before we burn out.”

you press your knees to your chest and curl into yourself. vi notices then — the slump of your shoulders, the shadows beneath your eyes, and just how deeply exhausted you must feel, down to your bones.

you let out a shuddery breath. “is it even all worth it?”

vi swallows the tears building in her throat. you had always been the hopeful one, and it makes vi’s chest ache to think about what you must have endured to lose the brightness that had been woven into your being.

that's part of what got her through these past few years, and there's no way she's going to let it fade.

“i....i think so,” vi starts, trying to find it within her to be inspirational. “maybe it'll make a difference in the long run, even if we don’t see that now. maybe someone, someday in the future, will be able to not just survive, but live in a better world.”

you raise an eyebrow at her, and vi swears there's a slight smile on your face.

"what?" she asks, her cheeks heating up.

"i'm just...surprised. how is it possible that prison made you less cynical?”

there's a glimmer to your eyes that wasn't there before, something playful, and vi decides to lean into it.

"oh, it wasn't prison," vi says, nudging her shoulder against hers. "see, i ran into this pretty girl from my past and she's this totally badass freedom fighter now, so i think there's some hope in the world."

you snort. "good to know you're still an unbearable flirt."

"i thought you loved that about me."

you laugh, a sparkling sound that vi wishes she could carry with her wherever she goes. it’s contagious, too, and vi finds herself giggling along with you. when it dies down, you rest your head on her shoulder, something you did even back when you were only friends.

“i missed you,” she admits.

“yeah?” your voice is softer than a whisper.

you lift your head and vi cradles your face in her hands.

vi nods. “so fucking much, and i want to prove it. if you’ll let me. please.”

“vi,” you exhale. she’s so close now that she can feel you breathing against her lips. “i can’t. you’re with that enforcer.”

“we’re not together,” vi assures, bumping her nose against yours.

she leans in ever so closely to kiss you, but you move away.

“you’re still with her, though, and you’re leaving in the morning,” you continue. “things are already so….complicated. i just don’t think we should start something we won’t be able to finish.”

with nothing more to say, you gather your sketchbook and pencils. vi’s sure that you’re not going to bed, just off to nestle into another hiding spot for the night, away from her.

maybe you’re still putting up a cold front, protecting yourself because that’s how you've been surviving in this world where the risk of losing everything lingers, and only gets heavier as you grow older.

but, gods, vi really has missed you, the you she remembers so vividly, the you that shone through just moments ago. she knows that glowing heart of yours is hardened by layers of ice, and she’s determined to make them all melt away.

so, vi gets up, heart beating in her throat, and calls after you:

“haven’t we already?”

you stop in your tracks. you slowly turn around to back at her.

a moment passes, maybe more. the two of you suspended in time. your eyes are telling her a million different things – you’re confused, you’re scared, you’re tempted, you’re tired – and all vi can do is unsuccessfully blink back more tears because it’s true, how your story together never got the happy ending you deserved.

“please, y/n. if this is our second chance, even just for a night —”

she’s cut off by you crashing your lips against hers.

the two of you were young, really, just girls when you first kissed. it was awkward and messy and though it ignited something in the pit of vi’s stomach, it was nothing compared to this.

she lets you guide her as you please, lets you press your warm body against hers against the trunk of the tree. she lets your lips mold into hers until her lungs are burning.

your chest is heaving as you pull away slightly; vi bites back a whine, feeling empty. but air isn’t what she needs, she’s sure of it. what she really needs is more of you.

you study her like a work of art, like you're committing her to memory in case she slips away. your thumb wipes away a fallen tear, across the tattoo on her cheek.

fuck, no one's held vi this tenderly since, well, you.

“you’re so beautiful.”

vi blushes, becoming increasingly flustered. she'd wanted to make this about you, take care of you in all the ways she'd imagined, but the way you're looking at her, touching her....she's not a religious person, but vi thinks she might have stumbled into her own, personal heaven, with you having some divine hold on her, soft and bright and passionate.

you're kissing down her neck, nipping at her collarbone when you repeat: "you're so fucking beautiful."

“yeah, i know. they should build statues of me,” she breathes, closing her eyes and trying to keep upright on weak knees. she squeezes your hips in an attempt to keep herself steady.

you’re the only person vi can recall calling her beautiful.

sexy? oh, yeah. charming? definitely. hot? often.

no one else calls her beautiful, though, let alone makes her feel like it the way you do.

“bad at flirting and full of yourself," you tease. "some things really don't change."

by now your lips are travelling lower, and vi doesn't want to miss a second watching you have your way with her. when her eyes flutter open, vi gets a glimpse of something over your shoulder.

“hm, i guess drawings are a good place to start.”

she gestures with her chin, which she instantly regrets as you pull away to follow her gaze, eyes landing on the sketches of her from your fallen sketchbook.

“you weren’t supposed to see those,” you groan. "they're personal...."

it's cute, how flustered you get after making vi all hot and bothered.

vi smirks. "personal, huh? had some fun picturing me when i was gone? missed me so much you had to draw me back to life?"

"well, no - wait, yes, obviously, i missed you, but --"

vi cuts you off with a searing kiss.

she tugs on one of your belt loops to bring you closer to her. vi presses her thigh between your legs, relishing in how your mouth opens in a perfect gasp. vi takes the opportunity to bite your bottom lip and you whimper.

“don't be embarrassed, baby," vi mumbles against your mouth, thumb rubbing soothing circles into your hips. "you know i missed you, too. 'cept i'm not talented like you, so my creative imagination had to carry me through some long nights."

“is that so….” your hand slips underneath her tank top, and you manage to pull a groan from vi by scratching your nails against her stomach. “maybe you can clue me in to what, exactly, you’ve imagined.”

vi grins triumphantly. she places a kiss on your birthmark before whispering in your ear:

“sure thing, stargirl.”

#vi x reader #arcane x reader #vi arcane x reader #vi arcane #arcane #vi #vi league of legends #saf writes #arcane season 2

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mwahgo · 1 month ago

Text

LOSER VIRGIN

— Trafalgar Law x Crewmate!Reader

[+18 MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 18+]

Summary: Law is a loser virgin and this is first time seeing a woman naked.

Word count: 2,914 words

Tags: P in V, unprotected sex, virgin!Law, fingering, mentions of masturbation, breasts fondling, examination table sex, begging, gynecology check ups

Mwahgo's notes: I read this one tumblr post where i think they head cannon law is a loser virgin and I agree :33 that man is a pathetic virgin. Also, feel free to point out stuff because most of the medical terms i used here are either from google or my own experience so if it’s wrong, please point it out so i can edit it :3 requests are closed for now since I wanna work on my own fics!

Shachi stepped out of the medical bay of the Polar Tang, knees shaking and he looked like he’s about to pass out, “So, how did it go this time?” Penguin asked, grinning smugly.

“I-It was worse.. ugh, Captain didn't have to be that harsh,” His knees buckled as he fell to the floor before Penguin started laughing at him.

“I told you, man, you shouldn't have ate that bag of sweets,” Penguin snickered, putting his hands behind his head.

“Oh but it was so delicious though!” Shachi whined as he plopped on the floor, defeated while Penguin giggled at his devastated reaction.

The Heart Pirates are currently having their monthly check up performed by their own captain and doctor, Trafalgar Law. And as a strict doctor, he recommends his crew to stay in shape and be healthy to being able to fight well and not catch the sickness easily. Law is a meticulous doctor, he gets into detail on what’s wrong with you and what you should do about it, so if he spots something unusual, it’s best to tell the truth than him forcing to use his devil fruit on you.

Speaking of being meticulous, Law does every medical examination under the sun, from general check up to getting your blood samples. He just wants what’s best for his crew, even if it takes too many steps further. He does accepts refusals if the crew doesn’t feel uncomfortable doing certain check ups, he doesn’t want to lose the trust from them so he respects their privacy.

As Penguin, Shachi and Bepo talked among themselves, you stepped in the hallway—yawning heavily before spotting the crew next to the medical bay, “What’s going on?” You asked with genuine confusion.

They three of them turned to you and greeted, “Oh hey (Y/N)! You’re just in time. Captain is having us our monthly check up,” Bepo smiled.

It took you a couple of minutes to understand the situation—since you obviously looked like you just woke up from a nap, you let out a small “ah..” before sitting next to Bepo, “Well, looks like I don’t have any other choice.. I don’t want the Captain to haunt me in my sleep,” You joked, making them chuckle.

“How come you never heard about the check up? Captain usually announces that prior,” Shachi wondered.

You shrugged your shoulders, but before you answer, Law steps out the medical bay—clipboard in hand, “Penguin, you’re next,” He called as he looked up from the clipboard, “Oh (Y/N), you’re supposed to be here 30 minutes ago,” He glared, crossing his arms.

You sweatdropped from the intense glare as Shachi and Penguin snickered at you, “H-Hehe… Sorry Captain, must’ve forgotten the memo,” You scratched your head in shame.

Law just sighed, “Doesn’t matter, you’re here,” He said, “Penguin,” He called strictly before heading back inside with Penguin following behind him.

“Well, me and Shachi are going now, (Y/N). Law asked us to do something around the storage room,” Bepo stood up from the bench and Shachi rose from the floor.

You pouted, the thought of being left alone as you wait for your turn for the check up. Shachi and Bepo just looked at you with sympathy as theybid their goodbyes to you before leaving. You sighed sadly as you swing your legs in boredom, waiting for Penguin to come out and to be called for your turn.

Penguin finally got out of the medical bay with a bottle of medicine in hand as Law stood behind him, “Remember to take that every 5 hours, you can start later at lunch,” He instructed.

Penguin saluted playfully, “Aye, sir!”

Law just sighed as he turned his attention to you, “(Y/N), it’s your turn,” He ordered as Penguin left and you entered the medical bay.

The medical bay was quite large, with two examination beds in the center, machinery placed on the corner and some medical supplies placed in their own storage. You sat down on one of the examination beds as Law flips through your charts, “Have you been feeling sick lately?” Straightly, he asked.

You shook your head no, “Taking any medicines?” You shook your head no again.

“Any allergies?”

You shook your head.

“Is anyone in your family has some sort of sickness that can be passed down?”

You shook your head.

Law checks the boxes off your chart, showing that your completely healthy as he moves to some of the medical equipments on the table, “Alright, we’re gonna start your physical exam,”

Law grabs the stethoscope from the metal table and as he turns around, his eyes widened when he sees you zipping off the top part of your white overalls.

His cheeks blushed as he turned away immediately, “Y-You don't wear a shirt underneath that?” He stuttered.

You looked at him confusedly as you looked down to your sports bra covering your chest, “Oh! It’s because it’s too hot in this uniform and this is much more comfier,” You answered

The doctor just sighed as he puts in the earpieces on and placed the diaphragm on your chest. Quietly, he listens to your heartbeat—monitoring it as his golden eyes wandered downwards, ogling at your cleavage. Law wasn’t an open book to easily read, he tries to be as professional as possible but the sight of your plump breasts peaking through your sports bar, it made Law’s demeanor crumble. His cheeks blushed as he lost focus on listening your heartbeat.

“Captain, everything alright?” You asked.

He jumped slightly when you called him as he immediately pulled away the diaphragm away from your chest, “Normal heartbeat,” he said flatly.

You furrowed your eyebrows in Law’s sudden unusual behavior as the check up continues. Your captain checked your blood pressure, breathing patterns and tested your reflexes. After the exam, he busied himself checking some things of your chart—most of the test you came out either fine or negative so there’s nothing wrong with your health.

Law came back with your chart as you waited patiently for his results, “Well, all of your tests came out, no abnormalities or problems,” He flips through the clipboard, “So, obviously, you’re healthy, (Y/N),” He announced.

You smiled brightly, “That’s great to hear, Captain! Thanks,” Law dismissed you for today as you got off the examination table and left the medical bay.

The moment the door closed behind you, Law let out a sigh of relief as he glanced down at the raging boner through his jeans. Throughout the whole check up, he tried his best to hide the obvious tent between his legs, he tried his best to not stare at your at your chest but his thoughts yells at him, begging him to grab a handful of your soft breasts, how it feels in his rough palms.

Law knew to himself that he’s still a virgin—being focused on studying and travelling as a pirate, Law doesn’t have time to mingle around with women, he doesn’t reciprocate the flirting that some women give him and he gives off a very intimidating vibe. But back in his study room, he would often blush like a school girl over illustrations of breasts in an anatomy books or his cock would harden as he reads about the clitoris. Every night, after a few study sessions, he would masturbate at the images of a naked woman in those books. Law is not stupid, he knew to himself he’s a virgin who wanted to see a woman naked.

You, on the other hand, you giggled to yourself as you left the medical bay. Law may not be an open book to easily read, but his body gives hints of his sexual frustration. The obvious boner in his pants almost made you want to call him out, but you didn’t want to embarrass the captain like that. His red face almost made you smirk triumphantly, his walls crumbling just from the sight of cleavage and every bite of his lips made you want to tease him more. Law is a reserved man, but his body craves something more.

The next month, Law announced to the crew that there will be another monthly check up and ordered everyone to meet him up in the medical bay. As the others conversed to themselves about some recently changes they’ve been noticing, you have a bit of concern you want to address to Law regarding your health. After the crew had their breakfast, they split into groups—some went around the ship to do their assigned chores, some went to the control to manage navigation and the crew members who have nothing much to do, they went to the medical bay to meet up with Law for the check up. You were one of those people as you arrived to the medical bay, you saw Law talking to Jean Bart.

As the big man left, Law’s eyes met with yours as it widens and his cheeks blushed, “Come in, (Y/N),” He said, entering the medical bay with you following behind him.

Law started the check up with the usual stuff—checking your blood pressure, testing your reflexes and checking your heartbeat again. He examined your body for any abnormalities or bumps and so far you were doing good. As Law was checking your chart, you spoke up, “Uhm, Captain.. Can we do another check up?”

Law didn’t bother to glance but he was listening, “What is it?”

You fell silent for a moment, choosing the right words to ask him, “Uhm.. C-Can you do a check up for my.. private parts?” You stammered.

His breath hitched when you mentioned you wanted a check up for your reproductive organ. He never did that examination before since most of his crew members are male and they don't really mention a more detailed examination on them.

“I mean it's okay if you can't do it! It's just that I would sometimes get that check up—” Law cuts you off.

“N-No, it's fine. You’re concerned with your health so I’m here to assure you that you’re healthy,” He insisted.

Law instructed her (he tried his best) to take off her uniform and her undergarments and told her to lay down on the examination table. As Law turned around to start the check up, he saw your naked body laying on the table as his breath gasped. He felt his cock harden in his pants but he tries to hide his arousal and focus on the current task in hand. He approached your relax body and sighed, mentally preparing himself as his hands reached out and grabbed your breasts.

Suddenly, you let out a small whimper and Law jumped back, “What the hell? Are you okay?” He asked.

“O-Oh I’m sorry, you could’ve warned me that you’re going to start,” You said as Law sighed.

He continued the examination on your breasts—his hands feeling the soft flesh, looking around for some lumps or abnormalities while he lowkey enjoys being able to fondle your breasts. Then, his hands lingers downwards to your stomach, pressing it down to feel around for some lumps as well. His tattooed hands now descended between your spread legs as Law breathe shakes, his body buzzing in adrenaline and his eyes admired your cute pussy. He had only seen these on medical books and now he gets to touch them in person. He gulped nervously as his fingers grazed on your labia and your clit, inspecting if there are any signs of deformity. Every slide of his fingers on your labia makes your hips thrust up which made Law weak, thinking if this is your reaction if he fucks you hard.

His hand pulls away from your pussy as he grabs the lube and coated his two fingers, “… Are you a virgin, (Y/N)?” Law asked.

You shook your head, “N-No…” You answered.

Law hit a pang of jealously, knowing that you had someone before him but he disregards that idea as he went back to your spread legs, “I’m gonna need you to breath steady here, it might feel uncomfortable,” Law assured.

You nodded as he slowly inserts his lubed fingers in your pussy. Your lips let out small whimpers as Law almost moan at the feeling of your spongey walls engulfing his fingers, his breath hitches at the sight of his fingers inside you. He blinked back to reality—almost forgetting he’s on a medical check up right now as his other hand pressed down your abdomen so that he can easily feel around inside you. You took deep breathes as Law continues to press his fingers inside your pussy, feeling your around your vagina for any thing unusual but your small moans took away his attention as he glanced up to see your expression—your eyes closed and your brows furrowed as you try to suck in your moans, but Law’s fingers feels so good.

The doctor gulped as he pulled his fingers back before sliding them back inside as you let out your moans of pleasure, “Fuck.. Feels good, yeah?” He asked as the hand on your abdomen moved to your hips, caressing the soft skin.

You nodded as Law slowly fingers your pussy, “Yeah… Feels really good,” You whimpered, “Law.. Please, I want you,”

His golden eyes widened, “Wh-What?” He stuttered.

“I want you to fuck me, p-please. I know you’ve been wanting this, baby..” You bit your lip as your hips thrusts back on his fingers.

Law paused for a moment, radically thinking about the situation. Sure, he wanted to see a woman naked but it was all a fantasy of his, he didn’t expect it to make it this far. You were already willing—begging him almost to fuck your needy pussy and Law couldn’t refuse because he didn’t want you to feel betrayed.

Law nodded as he pulled out his fingers—you whined in the emptiness before he unbuckles his pants and pulling his boxers down, revealing his hard cock. You bit your lip at his size as your foot rubbed his sensitive cock, making him groan, “You must’ve been desperate, right Law?” You smirked.

He growled in annoyance as he coated his cock with some lube before positioning it on your pussy. You gasped as his cock penetrated your pussy and Law bit his lip—sucking in his groans as he feels the sensation of your pussy wrapped around his cock. He looks down and his knees almost passed out when he sees his cock buried deep inside you, creating a slight bulge on your abdomen, “H-Holy shit… Feels so good,” He whimpered.

You let out a small giggle as your hips grinded on his cock, “Please.. F-Fuck me Law, hurryyy,” You begged.

Hearing your pleas, he nodded and retract his hips back—leaving the tip of his cock inside before plunging in back as you both moaned in pleasure. He picks up the pace wanting to reach into you deeper, fucking you hard on the examination table. His hands grabbed your legs and hooked them on his arms, making his cock go into you deeper as you moaned loudly, “Oh fuck Law! It feels so good!”

Law panted heavily, “Y-Yeah, I’ll make sure to… fuck you real good,” He whimpered as his pace quickens.

The examination table starts to shake as Law took an aggressive pace, your skins slapping against each other as the sound echoes inside the medical bay along with your moans and his deep grunts. Law glanced down at your reddened lips as he leans down and kissed your lips. Your eyes widened in surprise but time went on and you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer while he maintains his pace.

You pull away from the kiss, “O-Oh Law, I f-feel something!” You moaned, “I’m gonna cum!”

Law pushed himself up with his hands as he felt the tight knot in his stomach, “Fuck, (Y/N). I’m g-gonna cum too..” He groaned, “Can you cum with me, p-please?”

You almost laughed at his pleas as you nodded before you felt your orgasm hit you. You throw your head back as your moans escaped your lips and Law quickens his pace before cumming inside of you, his deep groans mixed with yours. His hips stuttered as his body plopped on top of your sweaty body as you both panted.

“Damn… I didn’t know.. you had it in you,” You teased your captain.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance, too tired to argue, “Yeah well… this is the wrong time to say this but.. I kinda like you for a while,” He blushed, “… And I’ve been wanting to do this with you,”

Your eyes widened at his confession as you started giggling, “Well.. At least, we can do it all the time now,”

Law snickered as he leaned down and kissed you passionately—with you wrapping your arms around his neck and kissed him back.

#one piece x reader #one piece #anime #one piece x reader smut #trafalgar law #anime smut #one piece smut #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar law x reader smut #trafalgar law smut #op #op x reader #op x reader smut

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gardenwons · 8 months ago

Text

NERDY AND NASTY

SYNOPSIS maybe making a nerd beg for your forgiveness was your kink? And maybe making you beg was also his?

PAIRINGS nerd!heeseung x popular!reader

WARNINGS smut with plot(?), switch!heeseung, making out, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, size kink, praising, somewhat insecure heeseung, hint at future 3some

A/N 8k+ words heavily inspired by all the nerd fics *leeechin and her loser!hoon pls.. im currently reading and eating up, loser!hee is long overdue at this point needed to make him a priority lol also super sleepy so not proofread

“I really don’t think you should go through with this. You’ll chew him up and spit him out,” Wonyoung whispered in your ear, her eyes flicking toward the guy a few seats ahead of you.

You hadn’t been paying attention to class for the past two hours, too busy eyeing Heeseung—lanky, messy hair, big glasses that slipped down his nose as he furiously scribbled notes. Something about the way he muttered to himself and hunched over his textbooks made you wonder what he’d be like when things got... intimate. You found yourself biting on your bottom lip and grinned.

“Do you think he’s a virgin?” you whispered back to Wonyoung, ignoring her warning.

She giggled softly. “Maybe. But even nerds have game these days. Might as well find out.”

“I swear, Y/N is staring at you,” Jungwon whispered excitedly, nudging Heeseung’s arm for what felt like the hundredth time. Heeseung tried to ignore him, rolling his eyes.

“No way. She doesn’t even know I exist,” he muttered, flipping through his notes with forced indifference. The idea of you noticing him was ridiculous. You were you—confident, untouchable. He was just some guy trying to survive the semester.

But then, he chanced a glance behind him, just to prove Jungwon wrong. His heart jumped into his throat when his eyes met yours. You didn’t look away. In fact, you winked at him.

Heeseung’s face flushed crimson as he whipped his head back to the front, his pulse racing. Jungwon snickered beside him, clearly enjoying his reaction.

“Told you, man,” Jungwon teased.

Heeseung’s thoughts were spinning. There was no way someone like you would actually be interested in him... right? But he couldn’t help the small spark of hope that flickered in his chest. You, the girl everyone wanted, were giving him attention. For once, he wasn’t invisible. And that both terrified and excited him.

You slipped through the mass of students as soon as class ended, making a beeline toward Heeseung. He was still at his desk, packing up his notes, oblivious to the fact that you were heading straight for him.

Jungwon noticed you first, eyes widening in surprise as he fumbled with his notebooks, hugging them to his chest. “H-Hi, Y/N,” he stammered, his voice cracking slightly as he elbowed Heeseung hard to get his attention.

Heeseung let out a small groan, rubbing his side as he looked up. His expression shifted from irritation to wide-eyed surprise when he saw you standing in front of him.

“Hey, I’m Y/N,” you introduced yourself with a casual smile, though you knew you didn’t have to. Your reputation precedes you, but there was something cute about doing it anyway—like a formality. You watched as both of them stammered out their own introductions, even though you already knew their names. They were shy, but that just added to the fun.

“I know who you guys are,” you continued, leaning in slightly. “I was wondering if you’d want to group up for the project? Wonyoung ditched me for someone else, and I thought it’d be okay to work with you guys.” It was a harmless cover, but in reality, you had your eyes on Heeseung for other reasons. Still, two birds with one stone, good grades and a chance to see what Heeseung was really about.

Jungwon immediately nodded, almost too eagerly, slapping a hand on Heeseung’s shoulder. “We’d love that,” he said with a grin, giving Heeseung a look as if urging him to just go along with it.

Heeseung blinked, clearly still processing the fact that you were talking to them at all. “Uh, yeah, I guess it’d be fine,” he mumbled, his lips curling into a shy smile as he glanced at you nervously.

“Perfect! Let me give you guys my number,” you said, flashing them a confident smile. Both of them handed over their phones without hesitation. You quickly entered your contact information on Heeseung’s phone, adding a little heart next to your name for good measure before handing it back.

Jungwon’s eyes darted between you and Heeseung, a knowing grin playing on his lips as you sauntered off. “Dude,” he muttered, nudging Heeseung again, “you better not mess this up.”

Heeseung just stood there, staring at his phone, his heart racing as he saw your name and the heart emoji.

“I’m not sure what just happened,” he muttered under his breath, still in disbelief, “but I think I’m in trouble.”

Two days had passed, and you were growing impatient. Not a single text from either Heeseung or Jungwon. Were they really that swamped with schoolwork, or were they just too shy to make the first move? Deciding you’d waited long enough, you took matters into your own hands and set out to track Heeseung down.

You checked all the usual spots where nerds hang out—the library, the study hall, even the cafeteria—but no luck. Then, as you wandered the quieter part of campus, you passed by the music room. It was mostly abandoned now, dusty and forgotten, but something made you stop. A soft humming caught your ear, pulling you toward the ajar door.

Peeking in, you spotted Heeseung sitting alone, flipping through his notebook and humming quietly to himself. The sight of him caught you off guard—he looked so... at peace. You watched him for a moment, his soft voice filling the empty room. No wonder you couldn’t find him earlier; no one came here anymore.

After a minute of listening, you knocked gently on the door, making him jump. His wide eyes shot up to meet yours, looking startled—almost terrified—at the sight of you standing there.

“S-Sorry, I didn’t know you were—” he started, scrambling out of his seat, offering it to you in a flustered rush. It was the only clean seat in the room, the rest of the space coated in dust and neglect.

But you weren’t focused on that. Your eyes were drawn to him—his usually neat appearance was slightly undone. Two buttons on his shirt were carelessly unbuttoned, his tie loosened around his neck, and the messy look was doing things to you. He looked unexpectedly... hot.

Heeseung, on the other hand, was fumbling through an apology, but all you could think about was how good he looked, so different from his usual polished self.

You rolled your eyes, sitting down with a huff, blowing loose strands of hair away from your face. As you settled in, you beckoned Heeseung toward you with a slow curl of your finger. His breath hitched, and you could already see the nervous sweat forming on his forehead, his body stiff with tension as your presence overwhelmed him. Reluctantly, he shuffled closer until he crouched down, his wide eyes barely able to meet yours as you stared him down.

“It’s not very nice to leave me waiting,” you said coolly, your voice laced with annoyance. Heeseung’s cheeks flushed deeper as he nodded, his gaze flicking away quickly, unable to hold eye contact for more than a few seconds.

“I-i didn’t know what to message you...” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. He looked embarrassed, and the sight of him, so timid and unsure, almost made you laugh. Almost. But you bit down on your lip, forcing back the giggle bubbling up. Instead, you shrugged, feigning disinterest, as if his pathetic nervousness didn’t amuse you.

“A simple ‘hi’ would’ve worked,” you replied nonchalantly, watching him squirm under your gaze. You let the tension hang in the air before adding, “But now... I think I want an apology.”

Heeseung’s eyes widened, and he nodded quickly, already muttering, “Of course, I’m really sor—”

“On your knees,” you interrupted, your voice taking on a teasing, yet commanding tone. “Just so I know you’re sincere.” You fluttered your lashes at him, lips curling into a playful pout.

Heeseung’s breath hitched again, his throat visibly bobbing as he swallowed nervously. But he didn’t argue. Slowly, he dropped to his knees in front of you, his hands trembling slightly as they hovered by his sides, unsure of what to do. His face flushed a deeper red as his eyes unintentionally fell to the edge of your skirt, where the faintest hint of your pink panties teased him, peeking between your legs. His mouth went dry, and he quickly averted his eyes, his whole body tense as he knelt there, waiting for your next move.

You nodded, silently urging him to continue. Heeseung stammered, his voice shaky as he tried to find the right words. He felt embarrassed, hot under your intense gaze. Just moments ago, everything had been peaceful—normal even—but now, here he was, on his knees, trying to beg for forgiveness while resisting the growing urge to glance between your thighs.

“I-I’m really sorry, Y/N,” he whispered, his head dropping low in shame, every emotion swirling inside him, mixing into a mess of anxiety, desire, and guilt. He prayed none of it showed, especially the inappropriate thoughts creeping in as he tried to save face.

But you weren’t done. You reached down, gently grabbing his chin, tilting his head back up until his wide eyes met yours again. You fixed his glasses, which had slid down his nose, and ran your fingers through his messy hair. “You’re so cute like this, y’know?” you said softly, a teasing smile playing on your lips. Heeseung choked on his spit, blinking rapidly as his mind struggled to keep up with the situation.

Before he could respond, you stood up, the edge of your skirt brushing against his face. From this angle, he had an unobstructed view of the way your panties moulded perfectly to your cunt, leaving little to the imagination. His breath hitched, and he felt a dizzy wave wash over him. Heeseung’s face turned a shade of red so deep he thought he might faint.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry about that,” you said with mock innocence, feigning surprise as if you hadn’t planned it all along. Your voice dripped with playful teasing, and you watched as Heeseung struggled to regain control of his thoughts, his eyes darting anywhere but toward you.

You leaned down, lowering yourself to eye level with him again, your lips curling into a smirk. “You’ll forgive me, won’t you? After all i’ve already forgiven you,” you whispered, your tone dripping with suggestion. His mind raced, and his throat felt dry as he nodded frantically, completely out of his depth, but too entranced by you to say anything coherent.

Satisfied, you patted his cheek lightly before turning to leave, letting your fingers trail under his chin for just a moment longer. “Good boy,” you murmured under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear. With one last glance over your shoulder, you placed your phone up to remind him of what to do and walked out of the room, leaving Heeseung kneeling on the floor, heart pounding, utterly shaken.

Heeseung stayed frozen in place for a few moments after you left, still processing what had just happened. His hands trembled slightly as he ran them through his hair, mind racing, trying to figure out how to face you again—or if he even could.

Needless to say, he did message you. His text came in late that night, "Hey, about earlier... I'm really sorry again." You could almost picture him, blushing behind his phone, nervously typing and deleting his words before sending them. That was the moment your plan began to take shape.

It wasn’t long before the perfect opportunity arose. Heeseung and Jungwon invited you over to their place to work on the project. You had played it cool, agreeing without hesitation, masking your real intentions behind the promise of schoolwork. This was your chance to get Heeseung exactly where you wanted him.

You stood outside their apartment door, a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips as you checked your reflection on your phone screen one last time. You’d dressed down, but in a way that still showed just enough—casual yet enticing. After all, you weren’t here just for the project.

When Jungwon opened the door, he greeted you with a warm smile, stepping aside to let you in. “Hey! Glad you could make it,” he said, gesturing toward the living room.

As you entered, you noticed immediately how much more relaxed they seemed in their own space. Heeseung sat on the couch, dressed in a fitted graphic tee that accentuated his lean frame, and joggers that hugged his legs perfectly. Gone was the timid, nerdy look he sported in class; here, he was undeniably handsome, and you couldn’t help but appreciate the transformation. Jungwon was equally attractive, his casual hoodie and jeans showcasing a well-defined physique that you hadn’t fully registered before.

“Hey, Heeseung,” you teased, letting your voice drop a little lower as you stepped further into the room. He looked up, his eyes widening slightly before he quickly averted his gaze, but not before you caught the flicker of something in his expression.

“Hey,” he mumbled, a nervous smile breaking through. You could see him trying to maintain his composure, but his cheeks betrayed him, coloring a light pink.

As you all settled down to work, Jungwon started outlining the project guidelines while Heeseung focused intently on his notes, though you noticed he couldn’t help stealing quick glances your way. You played along at first, discussing ideas, jotting down notes, and pretending to pay attention. But soon enough, the atmosphere shifted.

You stretched out casually, your shirt riding up just enough to reveal a hint of skin, drawing Heeseung’s gaze once again. “It’s getting hot in here,” you murmured, more to yourself but loud enough for Heeseung to hear. His fingers tightened around his pen, and you could see his jaw clench as he fought the urge to look directly at you.

“You okay, Hee?” you asked, your voice laced with playful concern. “You seem a little... distracted.”

Jungwon, oblivious to the tension, glanced over at Heeseung and chuckled. “Heeseung’s always like that when he’s stressed,” he said, shaking his head. “But we can take a break if you need one.” You noted how Jungwon didn’t realize that the real distraction was you, sitting so close, your knee brushing lightly against Heeseung's under the table.

He swallowed hard, struggling to maintain his composure as you continued to inch closer, your knee brushing against his under the table. It was a simple touch, but to him, it felt electric. His thoughts spiralled as his mind conjured images of everything he’d been trying to suppress since that day in the music room.

Suddenly, Heeseung stood up abruptly, almost knocking his chair over. “Uh, can you... can you guys give me a minute?” he stuttered, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I need to... um... take care of something.”

You raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “Take care of what? We’re in the middle of a project, hee.”

“Yeah, it’s nothing! Just- just a quick break,” he said, his voice rising slightly in pitch. “I’ll be back in a second. Please, just give me a minute.”

He quickly retreated into the hallway, leaving you and Jungwon in stunned silence.

Jungwon looked over at you, puzzled. “Is he okay?”

You shrugged, suppressing a laugh at the absurdity of the situation. “I think he might be overwhelmed,” you said, a smirk playing on your lips.

“Maybe we should go check on him,” Jungwon suggested, but you shook your head.

“No, let him have his moment. It’s probably just a bathroom break or something,” you replied, biting your lip to hold back your amusement.

Taking a deep breath, Heeseung leaned against the wall, trying to calm his racing heart. He could hear you and Jungwon talking softly in the living room, and the reality of what was happening hit him hard. He was undeniably attracted to you, and the more you flirted, the more he found it impossible to focus.

With shaky hands, he fumbled for his phone and quickly typed out a message: Hey, I’m really sorry, but I’m feeling kind of sick. I think it’s best if we wrap this up for today.

He hesitated before hitting send, biting his lip as he envisioned your reaction. But it was better this way; he couldn’t risk being in the same room with you when his mind was racing in directions he didn’t want it to go.

After a moment that felt like an eternity, his phone buzzed with a reply. You had responded almost immediately: Are you okay? Do you want me to bring you anything?

He frowned at your concern, a mix of guilt and appreciation swirling in his chest. No, I’ll be fine. Just tired, I think. Thanks for understanding.

Another buzz. Okay, we can reschedule. Take care!

He sighed, relief washing over him. Thanks, Y/N.

He took a moment to collect himself, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the wall. He felt guilty for lying, but he knew it was for the best, at least until he figured out how to handle his feelings.

When he finally stepped back into the living room, you and Jungwon were both looking at him expectantly. Jungwon spoke first, his brow furrowed. “Hey, everything okay? You look a little pale.”

“Yeah, I just... thought it was best to call it a day,” Heeseung said, forcing a smile. “I’m not feeling great, and I wouldn’t want to distract you guys from the project.”

You raised an eyebrow, concern evident in your eyes. “Are you sure? I can stay if you need anything.”

“No, really. I think it’s best if you go home and let me rest,” he insisted, trying to sound convincing.

“Okay, if you say so,” you replied, though the hint of disappointment in your voice didn’t go unnoticed by him.

You lingered for a moment, looking at Heeseung as if weighing your options. “Text me if you need anything, alright?”

“Of course,” he replied, forcing himself to sound upbeat.

With one last look, you finally turned to leave, and Heeseung felt a pang of regret hit him. As soon as the door closed behind you, he leaned against it, exhaling deeply.

“Everything okay?” Jungwon asked, glancing back at Heeseung, who was still trying to catch his breath. “You looked really flustered when Y/N was here.”

“Yeah, just... a bit overwhelmed,” Heeseung admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t want to freak out in front of her.”

“Dude, she’s into you,” Jungwon said, raising an eyebrow. “You could have just gone with it. Instead, you made her leave.”

“I know,” Heeseung sighed, kicking at the floor. “I just... I don’t know how to handle this. I’m still trying to figure out what I feel.”

Jungwon smirked, shaking his head. “Well, good luck figuring that out while you’re trying to hide your crush. Just don’t take too long.. I don’t want to see you miss your chance.”

Heeseung groaned, plopping down on the couch. “Thanks for the pep talk.”

“Anytime,” Jungwon said with a grin, heading into the kitchen to grab a snack. Heeseung watched him go, feeling a mix of frustration and longing.

Alone in the silence of the apartment, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had just made a huge mistake.

You couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling of concern for Heeseung after he texted you that he was sick. Even though you had shared playful banter, something in his message had felt off, igniting a spark of worry within you. The thought of him alone in his apartment, feeling under the weather, was enough to propel you into action. Determined to check on him, you decided to surprise him with a visit.

With a small bag of snacks in hand, you made your way to Heeseung’s apartment. The soft sound of your footsteps echoed in the quiet hallway, a stark contrast to the anticipation thrumming in your chest. As you entered Heeseung's apartment, courtesy of Jungwon for lending you a spare key, the cozy space wrapped around you like a warm blanket. The gentle aroma of herbal tea wafted through the air, mingling with the faint scent of laundry. Heeseung was curled up on the couch, bundled in a thick blanket, looking adorably vulnerable, but there was a flicker of mischief in his eyes. His hair was tousled, and his cheeks had a faint flush that made him look even more endearing.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” you asked softly, crossing the room to kneel beside him.

He turned his head slightly, his large eyes widening with surprise and delight. “Y/N? I didn’t expect to see you here. I thought I told you I was sick.” His voice was a little too casual, and you could see the corners of his mouth twitching upward, betraying his facade.

You smirked, settling down beside him. “Exactly. That’s why I came to check on you. You can’t just lie around here and get worse. Someone has to take care of you.”

He chuckled weakly, but there was an unmistakable glint of mischief behind his eyes. “You really didn’t have to.”

“Too bad! I’m here now,” you declared, standing up and placing your hands on your hips, feigning authority. “Now, let’s see if you have a fever.”

Heeseung raised an eyebrow, suddenly hesitant. “Uh, are you sure you need to do that?”

Without waiting for his response, you hopped onto the couch, positioning yourself over him. Heeseung’s breath hitched, eyes wide as you settled your weight on his hips, straddling him. The sudden proximity sent an electric shock through the air, making your heart race.

“Just hold still,” you said playfully, leaning down to press your forehead against his, your fingers gently brushing against his cheeks to gauge his temperature. “You’re warmer than usual, but I can’t tell if that’s from your so-called illness or if you’re just flustered.”

Heeseung swallowed hard, his cheeks turning a deeper shade of pink. “Maybe it’s a little bit of both…”

You chuckled softly, feeling a rush of exhilaration as your playful banter took on an undertone of tension. “I think we need a more accurate method.”

With a playful grin, you pulled back slightly and reached for the thermometer from your bag. As you turned back to face him, you couldn’t resist leaning in closer, teasingly bringing the thermometer up to his lips.

“Open up,” you instructed, a mischievous sparkle in your eyes.

Heeseung hesitated, glancing down at the thermometer, his expression shifting from playful to anxious. “Uh, are you really sure this is necessary?”

“Of course! How else am I supposed to know if you’re truly sick?” you replied, maintaining your teasing tone.

Finally, he relented, opening his mouth to take the thermometer. The moment it beeped, you pulled it away and glanced at the reading. “Looks like you’re slightly warm. But nothing I can’t fix.”

“Is that so?” Heeseung asked, his voice slightly shaky as he tried to maintain his composure beneath you. “Are you sure you want to be here?”

You nodded, a smirk playing on your lips. “Yes! A little TLC should do the trick. Now, let’s get you some soup and-”

Before you could finish your thought, he interrupted you, a sudden seriousness in his eyes. “Y/N, are you sure you’re not just doing this because you feel sorry for me?”

The question caught you off guard. You had been so wrapped up in the playful banter that you hadn’t fully considered the implications of your actions. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… I don’t want you to feel obligated to take care of me just because I’m ‘sick.’ If you’re here because you genuinely want to, then that’s one thing. But if it’s out of pity…” His voice trailed off, uncertainty clouding his expression.

You bit your lip, feeling a rush of warmth at his vulnerability. “Heeseung, I’m here because I want to be. I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t care about you.”

The tension between you two hung in the air, your heart racing at the honesty in your words. You could see the relief wash over his features, followed by a glimmer of something deeper, something that felt almost like hope.

“Really?” he asked, his voice softening.

“Yeah,” you replied, your gaze steady on his. “I like being here with you, even if you are pretending to be sick.”

Heeseung smiled shyly, his heart swelling with emotion. “Thanks, Y/N. That means a lot to me.”

With that, the playful atmosphere returned, but now it was layered with something more- an understanding, a connection that felt genuine and real. As you straddled him, the weight of your body pressed against his, sending a jolt of electric tension sparking through the air. Heeseung's breath hitched, confusion mingling with an undeniable desire swirling within him. The playful glint in your eyes ignited a fire in his chest, the warmth of your presence overwhelming in the most intoxicating way possible.

“Y/N, are you really sure about this?” he asked, his voice trembling slightly, as if afraid this intoxicating moment would shatter like glass at any moment.

“Absolutely,” you replied, a mischievous smirk curling your lips as you leaned closer, your breath teasingly brushing against his ear. “But first, let’s check your temperature.” The teasing lilt in your voice sent shivers cascading down his spine.

He hesitated, caught in a whirlwind of emotions that twisted and turned inside him. “I’m not really sick, though…” he mumbled, cheeks flushed and gaze flickering to the side, not wanting to admit how desperately he craved the closeness.

You let out a soft, playful laugh, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Oh, come on, seungie. Let me take care of you.”

Before he could protest any further, you pressed your palm against his forehead, the heat radiating off him igniting a thrill in your veins. Heeseung gulped, feeling the weight of your gaze anchoring him in place, his mind racing as he struggled to focus. You could see the way he squirmed under your touch, his breath hitching at the slightest contact, his vulnerability only heightening your desire.

“You’re definitely warm,” you said, feigning seriousness, your thumb gently stroking his cheek, relishing the softness of his skin. “But I think we need to take this a step further.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper, heart racing with anticipation and confusion, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

Without answering, you shifted slightly, sliding your hands down to his waist, locking your eyes onto his. “I need to get a better reading.” With that, you fully settled into his lap, your weight pressing him deeper into the plush couch. Heeseung’s breath hitched, eyes wide as he felt the intoxicating heat of your body against his.

“Y/N, wait—”

You leaned closer, fingers grazing the fabric of his shirt, teasingly close to where you knew he wanted you the most. “Just relax, Hee. Let me take care of you.”

He hesitated, heart pounding fiercely as you leaned in, capturing his lips in a teasing kiss. The softness of your lips against his ignited a fire within him, and he instinctively leaned into you, craving more. “This isn’t fair,” he murmured against your lips, the pull between you almost magnetic, trying to pull away but only finding himself drawn closer.

“Why not?” you countered, a sly smile playing on your lips, mischief dancing in your eyes. “You’re the one who looks like you need this the most.”

His cheeks burned at your words, heat pooling low in his stomach as he wrestled with his desire. “But I’m not-”

You cut him off with a sultry grind against him, the sudden friction causing him to gasp, a sharp intake of breath that echoed the conflict raging inside him. “Tell me you want this,” you whispered, your breath hot against his ear, your words dripping with seduction. “Tell me you want me.”

Heeseung’s resolve began to crumble under your teasing gaze, but he couldn’t give in that easily. “I want you, Y/N,” he confessed, the sincerity in his voice laced with a defiant edge. “But I want you to know that I’m not just some easy target.”

Your heart raced at his words, and you leaned in closer, lips brushing against his neck, leaving soft, lingering kisses along his skin. “Then let me take care of you, Heeseung. Just let go.”

He hesitated again, squeezing his eyes shut, fighting against the overwhelming sensations threatening to sweep him away. “I don’t know if I can just let go,” he admitted, voice thick with uncertainty, battling with the emotions swirling within him. “What if this is all a mistake?”

“Or,” you said playfully, pressing your lips to his neck, your voice sultry and inviting, “what if it’s the best mistake we ever make?” You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, eyes glinting with mischief and lust. “You’re clearly enjoying this. I can feel how much you want me.”

Heeseung opened his mouth to argue, but the words slipped away as he felt the heat radiating between you. “I do want you, but-”

You cut him off again, leaning in to capture his lips with a hungry kiss, a challenge hanging in the air between you. “Then let me show you just how good it can be.”

Heeseung’s breath quickened, and the way you looked at him made his heart race even faster. “Fine,” he relented, determination lacing his voice as he leaned closer, breath hitching. “But I want to hear you beg for it first.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, but the challenge sent a thrill through your body. “Oh really? You think you can turn the tables on me?”

“Absolutely,” he replied, confidence returning as he leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear, teasingly intimate. “You want me? Show me how much.”

You felt a rush of excitement at his words, but you weren’t about to back down. “Alright then, Heeseung. I want you, and I want you to know that I’m not afraid to take what I want.”

His gaze darkened with lust, and he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours, a smirk playing on his face. “Then let’s see how far you’re willing to go. Beg for it, Y/N. Show me you want this.”

You felt a rush of excitement and defiance at his challenge, but you weren’t one to shy away. “I want you, Heeseung,” you said, your voice dripping with sultriness, “and I want you to give me everything you have.”

“Then let’s make this interesting,” he proposed, his gaze heavy with desire. “You want me to give you everything? Then show me just how much you’re willing to give in return.”

His challenge ignited a fire within you, and you knew you were in for a wild ride. You leaned in, capturing his lips again, this time with more urgency, and Heeseung responded, matching your fervor.

“Y/N,” he breathed between kisses, the air thick with longing. “I want you to know that I’m not going to make this easy for you. I want to see how much you can handle.”

“Bring it on,” you replied, your voice sultry and daring as you pressed your body against his, feeling the heat radiating between you.

As the heat between you surged, you pulled away slightly, your breath mingling in the charged air. Heeseung’s eyes were dark with desire, but beneath that lust, there was a flicker of uncertainty. “Y/N,” he murmured, voice low and gravelly, “are you really sure about this?”

You smirked, your gaze intense and unwavering. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t. Just remember, I’m the one who takes charge.”

“Right,” he replied, a hint of bravado creeping into his tone, but the way his hands fumbled as they reached for you only added to the tension. “So what now?”

“Now,” you said, leaning in closer, letting your lips almost brush against his, “you’re going to show me just how much you want me.” The air crackled with anticipation, your heart racing.

With a burst of confidence, Heeseung grabbed your waist, but in his eagerness, he tugged too hard, sending you both tumbling onto the couch in a tangled mess of limbs. His glasses slipped down his nose, and he hurriedly adjusted them, cheeks flushed with a mix of desire and embarrassment.

“Smooth,” you teased, trying to stifle your laughter as you looked up at him. Heeseung’s expression shifted from flustered to determined as he leaned over you, his body hovering above yours, the heat radiating between you palpable.

“Let’s… try that again,” he said, voice shaky but filled with renewed resolve. His gaze roamed your body, taking in every curve, and you could practically see the fire igniting in him.

“Show me what you’ve got, Heeseung,” you urged, your voice sultry and inviting. His confidence wavered for a moment, but he leaned down, capturing your lips that sent shivers down your spine.

His kiss was a mix of passion and clumsiness, his movements a bit awkward as he tried to deepen the connection. You could feel him hesitate, and that uncertainty only fueled your desire. “You’re so cute when you’re trying to be confident,” you teased, pulling back just enough to lock eyes with him.

“Shut up,” he replied, attempting to sound gruff but failing as a nervous smile broke through. He leaned down again, this time his kisses were more insistent, laced with an intoxicating urgency.

As he pressed his body against yours, you felt the heat between you intensify. “You want this, don’t you?” you murmured, your breath hot against his lips.

“More than anything,” he breathed, his voice thick with need. Just as he leaned in for another kiss, his glasses slipped down again, and he fumbled to adjust them, frustration flickering across his face. “Ugh, why am I such a loser?”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound a heady mix of desire and mischief. “It’s part of your charm. Now, stop overthinking it and just kiss me.”

He nodded, visibly calming himself, and leaned in again, this time with a fierce intensity. He pushed his lips against yours, pouring all his eagerness and desire into the kiss, and you melted against him, surrendering to the moment.

Feeling emboldened, you moved your hands to the hem of his shirt, pushing it up to feel the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. Heeseung shivered at your touch, his breath hitching as you traced your fingers along the contours of his body.

“God, you’re so warm,” you murmured against his lips, your voice low and sultry. “You want me, huh?”

“I do,” he replied, voice thick with need, and leaned in, his kisses growing more fervent as he lost himself in you. He pressed his body against yours, the heat radiating off him intoxicating.

But just as he was getting lost in the moment, he accidentally bumped his head against your chin again, and both of you burst into laughter. “I swear I’m not this clumsy normally!” he exclaimed, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.

“Who cares?” you replied, your tone dripping with seduction. “Just focus on making me feel good.” You pulled him closer, your lips brushing against his neck as you whispered, “Make me feel good.”

His gaze turned heated, a primal desire flickering in his eyes as he leaned in, kissing a trail down your neck. His lips were warm and soft against your skin, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. “Y/N, you feel so good,” he murmured, voice thick with lust.

As he explored your body, you felt him beginning to lose himself in the sensations, the air thick with desire. Just when he seemed to find his rhythm, he accidentally brushed against your thigh with his knee, sending a shiver of excitement through you. “Sorry,” he mumbled, cheeks burning as he tried to regain his composure.

“Don’t apologize,” you whispered, capturing his chin with your fingers and forcing him to meet your gaze. “Just keep going.”

He leaned back in, the mix of confidence and nervousness fueling his desire. “Let me show you what I can do,” he said, voice low and commanding.

With newfound determination, Heeseung kissed a path lower, his lips trailing over your collarbone, hovering just above the swell of your breasts. “Is this okay?” he asked, his breath hot against your skin.

“Yes,” you urged, your heart racing with anticipation. “More. I want more, please seungie”

Encouraged by your response, he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against the fabric of your shirt, igniting a fire within you. His kisses were urgent now, fueled by the intensity of the moment, and you could feel the heat pooling between your thighs.

Heeseung’s gaze darkened with desire. The air was electric, thick with anticipation. “I want to eat your cunt” he growled, his voice low, the urgency unmistakable.

“Then do it,” you challenged, your voice sultry as you dared him to take control.

Without a word, Heeseung’s hands were on you, firm and eager. His fingers slid under the waistband of your shorts, and with one swift motion, he tugged them down, leaving you exposed before him. He tossed the fabric aside, eyes devouring the sight of you laid bare for him. His breath hitched as he knelt between your legs, his hands gripping your thighs possessively, pulling you closer.

“You’re going to feel so good,” he murmured, his voice rough with hunger as he leaned in.

With that, Heeseung dove in, his lips pressing against your core. His tongue flicked out, tasting you with the urgency of a man starved. The sensation made your body jolt, and a gasp escaped your lips as he licked you up like he couldn’t get enough.

“Fuck, you taste incredible,” he breathed, pausing only to glance up at you with an intense gaze, his glasses slipping low on his nose. The sight of him, desperate and determined, sent a fresh wave of heat through you. Heeseung's hands tightened on your thighs as he dove back in, licking and sucking with a fervor that made your head spin.

“More, Heeseung,” you moaned, your body trembling under his touch. “Please, don’t stop.”

“Quiet,” he growled, his voice filled with authority as he pulled you closer, burying his face between your legs. “Let me taste you.”

Heeseung’s tongue moved with more confidence now, sliding against you with a precision that left you breathless. He lapped at you eagerly, his hands gripping your thighs, holding you in place as he devoured you with a hunger that made your pulse race.

“Y/N,” he groaned against your folds, the vibration of his voice sending a shiver through your body. “You’re so fucking sweet.”

Heeseung was relentless, his tongue swirling and teasing in all the right places, his mouth claiming you as he drank you in. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, hips rocking against his face as you chased your release.

“Heeseung, yes,” you cried, feeling the tension build inside you, so close to the edge. “Don’t stop, please-”

“Then beg for it,” Heeseung murmured against your pussy, licking up to your clit and circling around it as his eyes locked onto yours. The intensity of his gaze sent shivers down your spine, igniting the fire within you.

“Please, Heeseung,” you gasped, your voice a desperate whisper. “I need more. I need your tongue on me.”

A wicked grin spread across his face, and he continued his teasing motions, his tongue swirling around your sensitive bud. “That’s better,” he said, his voice low and husky. “Keep going.”

You felt a rush of heat flooding your cheeks, but the overwhelming pleasure drowned out any embarrassment. “Ngh~ please,” you pleaded, hips rocking instinctively against his mouth. “I can’t hold on much longer.”

With each lick and gentle suck, Heeseung was relentless, pushing you closer to the brink. “I want to hear you say it,” he coaxed, his breath hot against you.

“Please, Heeseung,” you whimpered, fingers tangling in his hair, urging him closer. “I want to come. Make me come, please.”

“Good girl,” he murmured, diving back in with intensity, his tongue working magic as he teased you relentlessly. The tension inside you coiled tighter, ready to snap as he continued his lewd actions.

With a low growl, Heeseung sucked harder, his tongue pushing you to the brink. “Come for me,” he demanded, his voice thick with lust. “I want to taste you.”

With one final flick of his tongue, the pressure snapped, and you came undone, crying out his name as waves of pleasure washed over you. Heeseung kept his mouth on you, lapping up every drop of your release, his eyes locked on yours, filled with raw desire and satisfaction.

When you finally collapsed back, trembling and breathless, Heeseung pulled back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his lips curling into a cocky grin. “That was even better than I imagined,” he said, his voice dark and dripping with pride. “You taste fucking amazing.”

As you caught your breath, Heeseung’s gaze locked onto yours, the heat between you still simmering, charged with the energy of your earlier exploration. The grin on his face was a tantalizing mix of satisfaction and insatiable hunger, his glasses slightly fogged from the heat of the moment, giving him an adorably flustered look that only heightened your desire.

“You’re incredible,” he breathed, his voice low and husky, leaning closer until your foreheads touched, sharing the same intoxicating warmth.

You smiled, emboldened by his praise, feeling the rush of adrenaline coursing through you. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you teased, your voice dripping with sultriness as you leaned in to capture his lips in a heated kiss. The taste of yourself lingered on his mouth, mingling with the sweet flavor of desire, and you deepened the kiss, pouring all your pent-up passion into it. The sensation of his warm breath against your skin sent shivers down your spine, igniting an unquenchable fire within you.

Heeseung responded instantly, his hands finding your waist again, pulling you closer until there was no space left between your bodies. The kiss was intoxicating, a heady mix of urgency and longing, as if you both were trying to consume each other entirely. His tongue slipped into your mouth, teasing and exploring, igniting a blaze deep within you that made your body ache for more.

“Y/N,” he murmured against your lips, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark with need and a look of pure love that made your heart race. “I want you.”

“Then take me,” you urged, your voice sultry and low, your heart racing at the prospect. “I’m all yours.”

His expression shifted to one of determination as he captured your lips again, kissing you with a raw intensity that left you breathless, your senses heightened. He pushed you back against the couch, his hands roaming your body with feverish need, exploring every curve, every contour. You could feel his heart pounding against you, a reminder of the electricity crackling between you.

Heeseung's hands slid down your body, grasping your thighs and lifting them to wrap around his waist. “I’ve thought about this,” he confessed, his breath hot against your skin, sending goosebumps cascading across your body. “Thought about how you’d feel wrapped around me.”

“Then let’s make it happen,” you urged, your voice thick with lust as you ground against him, feeling the unmistakable hardness pressing against you. The sheer weight of his cock sent a thrill of excitement coursing through your veins. Who knew a nerd like him could possess such size? A flicker of uncertainty crossed your mind, would he even fit inside you?

With a swift movement, Heeseung adjusted your bodies, positioning himself at your entrance. He paused, looking deep into your eyes, searching for any hesitation. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, breathless, your body aching for him. “I want this, Heeseung. I need you.”

His lips curled into a smirk, a mixture of pride and mischief in his gaze. “Good,” he said, his voice a sultry whisper, before thrusting into you with one powerful movement. The sensation was overwhelming, stretching you perfectly as you gasped at the intensity, your body arching into him instinctively.

“God, you feel amazing,” he groaned, his voice low and raspy, filled with unfiltered desire. The sheer size of him filled you up in ways you hadn’t imagined, igniting a fire within you that drove you wild. You could feel the distinct bulge of his cock in your stomach, a constant reminder of just how much he had to offer. Heeseung had spent countless hours lost in wet dreams and endless scrolls through porn sites, but nothing could compare to this- a real connection, real pleasure that felt as if it was lifting you to new heights.

“Fuck, you’re so big,” you gasped, your eyes rolling back as he continued to thrust, each movement sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. His cock stretched you to your limits, filling you completely and making you feel utterly owned.

“Yeah? You like that?” he asked, a smirk playing on his lips as he looked down at where you were connected, watching the way his cock disappeared inside you. “You’re taking me so well.”

The weight of his cock stretching you made you feel desperate, a primal urge to be filled completely. “More,” you breathed, your body begging for him to give you everything he had. You could feel your body tightening around him, urging him on, craving his every thrust.

Heeseung’s expression shifted to one of pure determination as he picked up the pace. The sound of skin against skin filled the air, each thrust pushing you deeper into bliss. “You’re so perfect for me, Y/N,” he murmured, voice thick with lust and admiration. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

“Then don’t stop,” you cried out, feeling the heat coiling in your core. “I’m so close.”

In a moment of playful mischief, you reached up and adjusted his foggy glasses, clearing his view just as his eyes widened in shock and lust. The sight of you, glistening with desire and slightly breathless, made his breath hitch. With a feral growl, he thrust harder, his need intensifying as he chased your shared pleasure.

“Me too,” he groaned, pushing harder, chasing his own release. With every thrust, he buried himself deeper, the overwhelming sensation of his size driving you both closer to the edge, the bulge in your stomach becoming more pronounced with each powerful movement.

With one final powerful thrust, he hit that sweet spot, and the pleasure consumed you both, washing over you like a tidal wave. You felt the tension in your body peak, and as you cried out his name, your orgasm crashed over you, waves of ecstasy washing over you.

“Y/N!” he shouted, feeling you tighten around him, and with one final thrust, he spilled into you, warmth flooding your core as he filled you completely. You could feel the delicious warmth of his release spreading inside you, a sensation that sent shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through your body. The way his cock pulsed inside you made you feel completely full, satisfied in every sense.

You both fell into a panting mess, bodies entwined, the world outside fading away. Heeseung collapsed beside you, breathless but with a satisfied smile playing on his lips, his glasses slightly askew and still fogged from the intensity of your connection.

“Fuck,” he murmured, turning to look at you, his expression a mix of awe and disbelief. “That was… amazing.”

You grinned back, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at the connection you’d just forged. “Yeah, it really was. And I didn’t know you were this big.”

He chuckled softly, a hint of pride shining through his eyes, still full of love and admiration. “Guess I have some advantages.”

You laughed, feeling your heart swell at the moment shared between you, an intimate secret you would carry together. “Definitely an advantage.”

As you both began to come down from the high of your shared ecstasy, Heeseung pulled you close, his fingers gently brushing through your hair.. You could feel his heartbeat against your chest, a steady reminder of the intensity you had just shared. Your heart felt giddy as you looked at him, his hair tousled and his glasses almost fogged up again from the heat of the moment.

“Let’s clean up before Jungwon gets here,” Heeseung suggested, his voice still slightly breathless but laced with affection as he leaned down to place a tender kiss on your forehead.

You nodded, smiling softly as you helped him untangle yourselves from each other, the lingering warmth of his body still radiating against yours. Adjusting your clothes, you felt a mix of giddiness and satisfaction at the shared intimacy.

Unbeknownst to you both, Jungwon had arrived just moments earlier. He stood just outside the door, the sound of loud moans and passionate cries echoing through the hallway. His face flushed a deep crimson as the realization of what he was hearing hit him like a wave. He blinked in disbelief, blood pulsing to his cock as he listened to his best friend finally manage to fuck.

“Lucky idiot,” he muttered under his breath, a mix of envy and amusement swirling within him. Shaking his head, he turned away from the door, his mind racing with thoughts and images he couldn’t shake. With a silent, careful motion, he closed the door, trying to ignore the lingering sounds of pleasure that filled the air.

As he walked up to his room, Jungwon knew he’d definitely be taking care of himself tonight, the vivid sounds of your shared bliss echoing in his mind as he settled in for a long, private session of his own.

#aik’s thoughts #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut #jungwon hard thoughts #heeseung hard hours #heeseung x reader #heeseung scenarios #heeseung smut #heeseung hard thoughts #heeseung imagines

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that-sarcastic-writer · 9 months ago

Text

A Ballad of Lost Souls

Eric Draven (2024) X f!reader

Summary: what happens when two lost souls find each other? Cling to each other? Love could be a very dangerous drug indeed. You and Eric meet during rehab.

Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors dni, p in v, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, brief handjob, hair pulling, choking, size difference, size kink if you squint, bit of inexperienced!reader, Eric is actually a sweetheart, unhealthy coping mechanisms, mentions of substance abuse, addiction, mentions of suicidal thoughts, this movie is dark what do you want me to say

Reader has tattoos, but has no further specifications, y’all get to be tattooed girlies today, you’re welcome

WC: 5.7K I’m sorry

Inspo creds @kingkat12, she also posted an Eric fic with the same concept and some of the elements of this story like some of the dialogue bits were inspired after reading hers. Please give her some love! She’s a great writer

A/N: NOBODY LOOK AT ME. idc, I love Eric okay, stfu. I just had to write him. He just needs love man. That’s all. I want to give him love. So here you go. I might make a part two if there’s enough interest. When I tell you the Eric fic supply is LOW, I’ve never seen one so LACKING. So I just had to yk? Enjoy and don’t cancel me alright.

You didn’t often dwell on the past. You had a live in the moment kind of mindset. You didn’t know where you’d be tomorrow so you made the best of the moment. But sometimes, you wondered just where your bad decisions were taking you. You didn’t mean to end up here, in this awful bubblegum pink sweater and sweatpants, surrounded by people who didn’t care why you were here, or if you got better or not. The disappointed words of your mother played in your head, and the angry words of your father hammered in the back of your head. You were a fucking disappointment, and that’s why you were here.

You thought about ending it. This mess your life had become. It wouldn’t be too hard to find a razor around here if you truly tried. Who would miss you anyway? What even was the point of it all? By day two you couldn’t take this shit anymore. And then you saw him in the yard. You were almost entranced by him. He was so tall, he towered over everyone he walked past, you couldn’t imagine how ridiculous you would look standing next to him. You could see his ink cover his hands and fingers, and you wondered just how far the ink traveled. You were intrigued by him, he was quiet, morbidly so, he didn’t say a word to anyone, no matter how much they pressed or tossed him around, he just stared. Whether it was the doctors, the counselors, the guards. He always chose silence. And he always had this look of defiance, of apathy, he took everything with a locked jaw and deadpan eyes. And that intrigued you.

Should you try to entertain anyone in this facility, let alone the loner covered in tattoos? No, absolutely not. But lord, something about him drew you in.

You caught glimpses of him for a few days, in the cafeteria when you walked past him to your table, maybe he thought you didn’t notice, but you caught him turning his head to watch you walk by. One time, your eyes met, they were a pretty shade of green. It was brief though, as soon as he realized you caught him, his eyes were in front of his plate, but not before you managed to flash him a tiny smile. Welcoming, playful.

Eric remembered that.

The next time you saw him was out in the yard. They encouraged exercise in this place, for some dumb reason. The most people did around here was stand in a corner, feeling completely miserable under the scorching sun. But much to your surprise, after some time walking around the yard you found Eric, lingering by the gym equipment. It wasn’t much, just a pull up bar and that was barely tall enough to accommodate him. No weights, of course, because someone could hurt themselves, or someone else with them. It wasn’t much, but you couldn’t help but watch as he pulled his sweatshirt over his head, revealing even more tattoos going up both of his arms. You stood in a corner like a fucking weirdo, watching as he did pull up’s, as best as he could having to bend his long legs to accommodate the short bar. Why were you just staring at this man you’ve never even spoken to? Of that you had no clue. But you couldn’t take your eyes away. He had his back to you, but even under the material of his white t-shirt you could see the muscles in his shoulders tense, his arms flexing with each pull. And you could only I magine the true sight of him. Sweat dripping down his forehead, lips pulled between his teeth as he did each pull. God, you felt like such a pervert. You shouldn’t be eye fucking him like this, but you couldn’t help it, something about him twisted the most secluded corners of your mind.

Ultimately your trance was cut short, since it didn’t take long for a group of guys to take interest in whatever Eric was doing and went straight to push him around some more. You frowned, almost upset by the sight of him getting tossed around and hazed like this. You couldn’t hear what was happening, but Eric had his head down, chest heavy as he clenched his fists at his sides, but he otherwise did nothing. You didn’t care, any fucks you still had to give were gone the moment your parents and your ex-boyfriend conspired to send you here. You were about to walk over there, not caring about what weird opposite sex rules this place had. But when you started walking, Eric did too, getting shoulder checked as he pushed his way past the group of guys. You felt awful, you wanted to say something to him, but you were frozen when he walked past you, his green eyes shooting a quick glance at you, a bit of curiosity laced in them. But you were more focused on how his shirt was clinging to his sweaty chest. And just like that he was gone.

The next time you saw him was during a group meeting that afternoon. You were almost disappointed at first when he didn’t show. You sulked into your seat for the first minute or two, upset you wouldn’t get to see him today again. And then you saw him. His expression as apathetic as ever, like he would rather get beat up than sit through this bullshit. His hair was soaking wet, small droplets of water still falling from the tips of his raven hair. Great, now the image of him in the shower was ingrained into your brain. As if you didn’t feel filthy enough.

You bit your lip softly, sitting up as he sat across from you, his expression blank with disinterest as his tattooed fingers played with the hem of his pink sweater. You weren’t paying attention either, you were more entertained by the way his long legs spread open as he slouched on his chair, taking as much space as possible. You thought about how nice it would be to sit on his lap. You glanced at his hands, they were huge. How easily he could grab a hold of your ass, or hold you still by your neck. How his long fingers would feel so deep inside you. You thought about how easily he was doing those pull ups, and you thought just how easily he could hold you down, throw you around to as he pleased with you. Truly, you would happily let him use you. You could feel heat rush to your face as you crossed your legs, trying your best to ignore the heat pooling between your legs. Why were you lusting so hard over him? You didn’t even know his name.

Almost as if he could hear your pounding heart, Eric looked up to find your eyes lingering on him, one leg crossed over the other tightly. He tilted his head with curiosity, and his fingers twitched around his sweatshirt as your eyes met. He didn’t feel like looking away this time. The longer his hooded eyes were on you, the more nervous you became. You could feel your breath hitch in your chest as his eyes burned you. You only looked away when the counselor said your name, followed by stares.

Shit, were you supposed to say something?

You opened your mouth, immediately closing it as you had nothing to say. You didn’t even hear the question. You pursed your lips and shook your head lightly. The counselor sighed softly and looked to the girl beside you instead. It was common for most people here to refrain from speaking so he didn’t think too much about it. But when your eyes found Eric again, there was a small hint of amusement in his eyes, a ghost of a grin tugging at his plush lips. For the first time since you’ve been here, you saw something other than disinterest on his face.

Perhaps he was just as drawn to you as you were to him.

~~~

You pulled your lips into a disappointed pout as you searched around the cafeteria for his black mullet, not being able to find him. And here you thought today would be the day you finally spoke to him. You were about to sit at the nearest empty table when you found him. Even sitting down he stood out. You smiled to yourself, your heart pounding in your chest with anticipation. You looked around for guards, none were paying particular attention to you so you did it.

He lifted his head slightly to glance at you, a quick second before his eyes were back on his plate. You saw the way his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. You smiled to yourself.

“I like your ink.” Were the first words out of your mouth. You said them in one breath, afraid he would get up and leave. His eyes lifted from his hands to meet yours, his eyes then fell to your own hands, one of them covered in distinct patterns and colors from your wrist up to your fingers. He wondered what else you were hiding under your sweater, like him.

“Hm.” He gave you a small nod, his plush lips pulled between his teeth in a way that had you clenching your thighs. “I like yours.”

You smiled, the first genuine one since you’ve gotten here.

“I have more.” You whispered, leaning close to him, like it was some secret only for his ears to hear. His eyes flickered with amusement and he gave you another hum, his eyes now looking everywhere they could in hope of finding said secrets.

“Me too.” His lips curved up the slightest bit as he lifted one of his sleeves up enough to reveal more tattoos going up his arm. Your eyes lit up as you excitedly leaned down closer with the excuse of getting a closer look. Your proximity was certainly way too close for this facility.

Leaning impossibly close to him without actually touching him, you looked up at him and with a playful smile you pulled down the collar of your sweatshirt to reveal more designs along your collarbone, the rest of the design hidden by your sweater as the colors continued down your shoulder.

“But don’t tell anyone.” You chewed on your bottom lip, trying to hide your smile. He gave you what sounded like a chuckle and he shrugged.

“Who would I tell?” Though his face remained expressionless, his eyes had a glint that mimicked your eagerness, he welcomed your proximity. “Here he comes.”

You were confused by his words and you opened your mouth to question him as he sat back, his head lifting in the direction behind your head.

“Males and females can’t sit together!” One of the guards, one you had noticed had a particular thing with Eric shouted, roughly grabbing the back of his chair to force him up on his feet.

“Huh? Wait, why are you taking him?” You talked back to the guard. “Hey, he didn’t do anything! I was the one that sat here. I—I’ll move. Don’t be such an asshole! Leave him alone!” You tried to help, even going as far as standing up but the guard was already taking the new owner of all of your attention away. Your heart sank as you watched the guard shout at him as he dragged him away.

He had managed to turn his head back for a second, and when your eyes met, he half smiled at you. He was almost proud of the fact that you tried to stand up for him. “I’m Eric!”

You smiled.

~~~~~~

“Found you.” You skipped into Eric’s room, finally seeing his door open.

You hadn’t seen him since you got him in trouble at their cafeteria the day before. You got in some trouble too. You had a one on one meeting with a counselor about your choice of words and your “temper” but it was nothing more than just a slap on the wrist. Truly, you felt worse about getting Eric in trouble more than anything. You didn’t mean to, you just wanted to talk to him. He must have gotten punished because you didn’t see him during gym hour. You leaned against the doorframe as he turned around to find you. Curiosity filled his otherwise empty eyes, and a glint of amusement replaced the usual apathy in his gaze.

“I never left.” He answered with a shrug as he shuffled through the mess that was made of his artwork. Sketch papers were scattered all over his room, torn off the walls. Perhaps after getting in trouble during lunch they used that as an excuse to go through his room.

“I’m sorry for getting you in trouble.” You expressed with genuine regret, shooting back a glance to the hallway before inviting yourself into his room. Much to the protest of the rational voice in your mind. You looked at the floor as you almost stepped on a piece of paper, you happily picked it up, admiring the black charcoal coating the page before you set it on his bed.

“Is that why you’re here? To apologize?” Eric asked almost cynically as he glanced over at you, not moving from where he stood.

“Well yeah. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.” You said sheepishly, a bit intimidated under his intense gaze. There was always a look of defiance in his green eyes, determination even. He gave you a sarcastic hum, which made you roll your eyes.

“Why did you yell at the guard? You got in trouble too, didn’t you?” He asked lowly, his head slightly tilted as he searched for that little thing you did around him, when you clenched your hands at your sides, or your thighs on your seat. His eyes irked with amusement when your fingers twitched at your sides and your lips parted open.

“‘Cause… You didn’t do anything wrong. You never do anything, or say anything. And everyone around here always pushes you around. It’s fucked up.” You answered quietly, daring to meet his eyes. He pulled his lips into a small pout and nodded slowly. His silence was always so nerve wracking to you.

“Yeah, so?”

You scrunched up your face, sighing heavily at his questioning. What did he what you to say? You didn’t know why you cared. You shrugged, picking up another piece of paper by your feet. You half glanced at it as you spoke.

“I dunno.. I just.. Oh my—” You cut yourself off as you gave the drawing in your hand a proper look. You narrowed your eyes, giving the drawing a closer look, and your jaw fell open. It looked like you, your hair falling over your face, dark scribbles covering your body symbolizing the unknown designs on your body, the only intelligible one being the patterns on your collarbone, the same one you had shown Eric. But what truly caught your eye was that you were in fact, completely nude. Truly, his imagination surprised you, he had imagined every curve of your body well, despite not having seen any part of it.

Based on your flustered expression, Eric could only assume which drawing you had picked up. He swallowed, his cheeks flushing pink being caught red handed. But he didn’t look apologetic, at all.

“This what you do in your spare time? Draw naked girls?” You asked with big eyes, the still working rational part of your mind screaming alarms, but a part of you also filled with excitement at his perverted mind. Almost as if you were on his mind as much as he was on yours.

He shook his head. “Just one.” He answered with a shrug, a challenging look in his eyes.

Either you walked out right then and there, and that would be that, or you would go all in. He was trying to figure out which one it would be.

“You are very talented, this is—” You dragged your tongue over your lip as you walked closer to him, catching glances at his other artwork. Your heart pounded in your chest as you approached him, his gaze making you shudder. He said nothing as you stooped in front of him, now having to tilt his head down to meet your gaze. God this man was so goddamn tall. “You could totally sell this for some money.”

“But,” you continued, swallowing hard as you looked up at him, and the way his green eyes looked at you made your mind all fuzzy. God, you haven't felt this euphoric since you got here. This rush of adrenaline made you dizzy, but you pushed through it. “I see one flaw in your creativity.”

“Oh?” He bit down on his plush lip, head tilted with curiosity. You hummed and nodded, daring to bring your fingers up his chest. His breath hitched in his chest, but he said nothing.

“I fear you don’t have the full picture. My tattoos are more than just a scribble of ink.” You stated matter of factly, making him breathe out a small laugh.

“Sorry. I work with what I have.” He shrugged his shoulders, trying to ignore the feeling of your hands itching up his chest.

“Maybe I should give you more to work with?” Your hands found the back of his neck and you instinctively stood on the ends of your toes, itching to get closer to him.

Eric glanced down at you, his eyes lingering on your own for a split second before glancing at your parted lips, soft breaths escaping you as you anxiously waited. He didn’t have to think about it, he didn’t want to. His mouth was on yours so hard you whined. His large hand found your hair, tilting your head back to meet your lips better.

You weren’t sure when you ended up against the nearest wall, your legs wrapped around Eric’s slim waist as he held you up. You were right, he could hold you up like you were nothing. Truly, the oversized clothes you were forced to wear didn’t do him any justice. You wondered what he was hiding under his sweatshirt.

His lips were messy on yours, his heavy breaths joining your soft whimpers. You were so caught up in the delicious feeling of his mouth claiming yours and his hands touching everywhere he could, you didn’t hear the loud voices of guards calling your name and patient number. Reality dawned on you when you heard shouting down the hall for everyone to get out of their rooms. You patted Eric’s shoulder, forcing your lips away from his.

“Eric—Eric.” You said his name with urgency, making him look at you, eyes filled with greed as he chased your lips. “I have to go. I don’t want to get you in trouble again.”

He nodded after a second, setting you down on your feet after pressing one last kiss to your lips. You had a stupid smile on your face as you successfully sneaked out his room, the guards being distracted as they probably ransacked some poor bastard's room like they had done Eric’s. You glanced behind you as you hurried down the hall, catching a glimpse of Eric peeking his head through his door. He smiled. And it made your heart race.

You could not wait to see him again.

~~~~~~

“Eric!—” You slapped your hand over your mouth, attempting to quiet the desperate sounds leaving your mouth. But the way his tongue lapped at your sensitive clit and his long fingers rubbed against that one spot within your walls that had you squirming.

You didn’t mean to end up in this position, ass naked on top of one of the washing machines in the laundry room, with Eric on his knees and his face between your thighs. Truly you didn’t, you knew you would be in a lot of fucking trouble if you got caught. But the way his lips claimed yours, his tongue lacing with yours, his large hands grabbing at every part of your body like he didn’t know which one he craved to touch more. He just wanted you so fucking bad, your kisses and little rubbing here and there for the past few days wasn’t enough for him, or for you.

“I wanted to taste you so fucking bad.” He muttered against your clit, a groan rumbling in his throat when you pulled at the hairs on the back of his head, inadvertently holding his face closer against you. Not that he minded, he would stay here, with his fingers scissoring you open until you dripped on the surface underneath you.

“Please—fuck. That feels so good.” You didn’t remember the last time someone made you feel this good. Not that you had much experience in this area, but this sure felt right.

Eric wrapped his free hand under your thigh, pulling you to the edge, closer to his mouth. He lapped at your pussy like he needed it, like it was the air in his lungs. The sounds leaving his mouth as your juices seeped around his fingers were almost as filthy as yours.

You felt like such a slut, chasing his mouth with your hips, heaving like a bitch in heat, and quietly begging him to grant you your release, as quiet as you could be with his fingers so deep and his tongue drawing delicious circles around your clit.

“Just like that baby… Just like that.” Eric mumbled, his fingers slipping and crooking against that perfect spot.

Your release was so sudden, and it hit you so hard you were shaking, sobbing violently into your hand. Your head was thrown back, eyes rolled into the back of your head. Eric dug his fingers into your thigh, his tongue slipping into your hole when his fingers left you.

“Shit—Eric—” You gasped, your thighs shaking as you weakly reached to grab his face.

With a grunt he peeled himself from the warmth of your thighs, he stood to his full height before leaning down to capture your lips. The taste of yourself lingering on his tongue made you moan. Disoriented, you reached down to rub where his cock was straining against his sweatpants. He groaned into your mouth, his large hand flew to catch your wrist.

“It’s okay.” He gave your lips a soft kiss as he pulled your hand away. You gave him an adorable frown, your mind still spinning from your orgasm.

“But you—” He pressed another kiss to your lips, shutting you up. He moved his lips to your neck, latching on to that one spot that had you whining. Neither of you cared if everyone saw the mark he left.

“We’ll have time for that.” He mumbled against your skin. The way he slurred the words made your breath hitch. “Right?”

He pulled back to meet your eyes, blinking slowly as he waited for your response. You licked your lips softly, breath soft as you thought, how could he still question it. You were past the lusting. This was something else. You needed more of him, and it wasn't just sex you were craving. You wanted every part of him, even the parts of himself he didn’t want.

“Of course.. This isn’t.. Can’t you tell? What you do to me. I’ve never..” You couldn’t even form the right words, your mind still fuzzy with all these feelings you had no name for. You didn’t need to explain. Whatever it was, Eric felt the same. And he smiled, he genuinely smiled. And what a pretty sight that was.

“We should go.” He pressed his lips to the side of your head, smoothing down your hair and fixing your sweater. “Can you stand?”

You half nodded, gasping when he set you down on your feet and you instantly leaned on him for support. The sly smile on his face made you want to slap him. But deep down, you wanted to smile too.

~~~~~

The next time you saw Eric, he was walking down the hallway, his tall frame towering over the majority of people he walked past. He wasn’t hard to find. You bit your lip, unable to contain your excitement as you hurried after him. Your fingers brushed his, and almost as if he knew your touch by heart, he wasn’t startled, he didn’t flinch either. When he turned his head, his eyes grew big at the sight of you, the corners of his lips curving into a tiny smile. You flashed him a whole smile, unapologetic about how happy it made you to see him. Your obsession with him over the past two weeks wasn’t something you could explain, you knew it probably wasn’t healthy. But when were you ever known for having healthy coping mechanisms? You found something that filled you and you clung to it.

“Where are you going?” You asked him quietly as you walked beside him. He walked slower, but didn’t look at you much, as not to bring unwanted attention to yourselves.

“Laundry room.” He said quietly, his eyes dropping to meet yours. And you shared that knowing and malicious look. You couldn’t hide the smile on your lips. This time of day usually meant you could sneak off for a little while since most patients were having their once a week visitor, or phone call, which meant less guards were in every corner.

“I’m supposed to be out in two weeks.” You told Eric in between kisses, his lips trailed your jaw as his hands grabbed at your ass.

“I’m out in four.” He answered as he pressed you against the nearest wall. He grabbed your face between his large hands, pulling you to meet his eager mouth. You whined, fists clenched around the front of his sweatshirt. You couldn’t go two weeks without seeing him, you would go fucking mad.

“I don’t want to wait a month to be with you.” You breathed out, your chest heavy as the words left your mouth. “I’m supposed to go back to my parents when I get out. They agreed to take me in to follow my treatment, but I don’t want to go. They’re the ones that put me here.”

“I don’t have anywhere to go.” You barely heard him as he spoke, almost as if the words pained him, broke something deep inside him. It broke something in you, too.

“You can come with me. I have a little place and some money saved. It’s not much but.. If you want.. We could.. We could try something for real?” You trailed off, afraid he would reject you. It was one thing to mess around in here, where neither of you had anything else, anyone else to cling to, but this being anything other than a desperate bond by two lost souls was a different story. Outside of these walls, he could find anyone else, he didn’t have to keep the broken girl he fingered in a shitty laundry room.

“I would like that. I would like something real, with you.” His words were soft, as were his hands holding your face as he pressed his forehead against yours. You breathed out a laugh of relief. “Fuck this place. We’ll do it tomorrow, during shift change. There’s a vent up here that leads to the yard.”

You pulled him down by his sweatshirt, your lips crashing against his. He laced his fingers in your hair as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. You welcomed it, lips parting as you locked your arms around his neck.

“Eric.” You said his name softly in a quiet plea. He opened his eyes to find your desperate gaze. He told himself he wanted to be better, he knew you deserved better, but when you said his name like that, when you looked at him like that. He was no better. “I don’t think I can wait anymore. Please, I… I need…”

“Need what?” His words were coated with arousal, he knew fucking well what you meant. But he wanted to hear you say it.

“Fuck—” You kissed his lips roughly, any sanity and restraint you might’ve once had, completely. You can’t trust an addict to have good self-control, now could you? “Take me. I’m yours, just take me.”

“Fuck.” Now it was his turn to lose his sanity. He gave your lips one last kiss as he squeezed your cheeks between his fingers, licking your lips before he spun you around to face the wall. “You’re a sweet girl, don’t forget that. I swear I will fuck you properly on a bed, with flowers and shit.”

His words were rough in your ear as he pressed his lips to your jaw, his hands making quick work of pulling down your sweatpants and panties. They pooled around your ankles as he kicked your legs open as far as they went.

“I like carnations.” You gasped as the cool air hit your exposed cunt. You heard him chuckle beside your ear.

“Those are pretty. They’re pretty like you.” He hummed as he brought two fingers up to your lips. You happily took them in your mouth. Eric almost moaned at the sight. One of these days he needed to have you sucking his cock. One of these days.

Eric pulled his fingers from your lips and with a kiss to the back of your head, he sunk his coated fingers into your hole. Your mouth fell open, your forehead falling against the wall. You were instantly chasing his fingers, soft whimpers leaving your lips as you happily rode them. You didn’t know how he did it, how he could have you dripping around his fingers in a matter of a minute or two. You were clawing at the wall, silent moans spilling from you when he pulled his fingers from you. He watched almost proudly as your slick coated your thighs.

“Can I take this off?” He asked quietly, tugging at the hem of your sweater. You made a humming sound, as best as you could. As if he needed to ask. Eric was happy to rid you of your sweater, more happy to find more hidden tattoos going all over both of your arms. He craved to find every single one of your tattoos, and kiss every one. But he knew it would be best to be quick.

His own sweatshirt met the same fate, and with a kiss to your cheek, he grabbed one of your hips as he pulled down his sweats enough to free his cock. A groan left his lips as he dragged his cock between your folds, coating himself in your slick. You gasped, not being able to see him, but already knowing he was big.

“Let me know if it hurts, hm? I’ll take it easy, I promise.” He pressed his lips to your jaw, inhaling your sweet scent as he slowly sank himself into you. Only his tip was in and you could already feel the sting of his cock stretching you wide open.

“Fuck. Fuck, oh my god—” You squeezed your eyes shut, fingers clenching around nothing as he slowly filled your further, inch by inch.

“It’s okay. You want me to stop?” He asked, shushing you softly as he sat still, allowing you to adjust to the burning feeling of his size. Fuck, you should have known someone as tall as him would be this big. Somehow, it didn’t occur to you.

“No. ‘m okay. Keep going.” You reached behind you to touch him, your fingers gracing over the side of his face. He nodded into your neck, one of his hands sneaking to the front of you to play with your clit to ease you as he sank into you until his hips rutted against your ass. He sat still, speaking filthy words into your ear until you were whimpering, needing to feel more. “Eric, please.”

You didn’t need to tell him twice. His pace was slow at first, slow strokes that allowed you to revel in the feeling of his cock in and out of your walls. But as you both began to grow desperate, pathetic sounds leaving your lips and groans of pleasure leaving him, his pace picked up. It was grueling, how he fucked you against that wall. You braced yourself with one hand, the other holding his face behind you as he leaned his head to capture your parted lips into a messy kiss. He swallowed your sweet sounds as the sting of his cock had you squeezing the life out of him.

“Fuck, I have been dreaming about this since I saw you. You always looked so pretty when you looked at me.” He whispered in your ear, his hand wrapping around your hair as he forced your head back, exposing your neck. You cried out, his roughness making you clench around him. He cursed, covering your mouth with his large hand. “I need you to keep it down for me, baby. You don’t want us to get caught, do you?”

You shook your head, doing your best to contain the sounds he was pulling from you. His hand slowly left your mouth, trusting you could keep your sounds to a minimum. You bit down on your lip, eyes squeezed shut as his cock split you open. You swore you had never been this utterly fucked out, so cock drunk before. You had never needed anyone so badly. You had never felt so strongly about anyone. You had always found something to cling to, pain, tattoos, in your more miserable and recent years—drugs, and now him. But him? This feeling he gave you, it was like nothing you had ever felt before. You wanted to hold on to him until your final breath of air left your lungs.

“I wanted this—you—so fucking bad. I needed to have you.” Eric grunted, lips latching on to that spot on your neck where the previous hickey he had left was starting to fade. “I’m so crazy about you, no amount of rehab could fix me.”

You moaned at his words, letting them sink in. He was down so bad for you, probably as much as you were. Two addicts, seeking refuge in each other, craving this adrenaline, it was a kick you had never felt before. It was a kick only lust and passion could bring. And he ignited that deep within your soul.

“Me too.” You panted, lips parting in ecstasy as one of his tattooed hands loosely wrapped around your throat. Fuck, the way his whole hand covered your entire neck made you gush all over his cock. “I’ve never wanted anyone this bad. You—ah!—I need you all the fucking time.”

“Then you can have me,” His fingers squeezed your throat tighter, his thick cock so deep you swore you could feel him in your fucking cervix. “All the fucking time. Forever.”

Tears filled your ears as you could feel your release near, your thighs shuddering as you felt your legs start to give out. Eric was quick to press you further against the wall, his back flush against your chest, sweaty forehead pressed against your cheek as his cock rutted against you, over and over, until you were chanting a string of uh-uh-uh’s, your mind too overcome with the pleasure he was giving you to even speak.

“I want you to come on my cock so fucking bad. I need it.” Groans fell freely from his chest as he once again slipped a hand to your swollen clit. The pressure of his rough fingers made you gasp, your throat closing under his grip. Your release hit you so hard you were sobbing, though mostly muffled by his tight grip. Tears fell down your cheek as your orgasm left you a shaking mess. You had never felt this way before—so overcome with pleasure you cried.

“Shh, it’s okay baby. Good girl.” The hand on your throat left to wipe at your tears, soothing you as you came crashing down.

Eric fucked you through your release, frantically chasing his own. His name left your lips with praise, sobs of your remnant pleasure as he pushed you to the point of overstimulation. But it wasn’t until he felt his own release near that he pulled out of you. Without saying a word, he grabbed one of your hands and wrapped it around his thick cock, his own hand guiding yours up and down his slick length, sweet praises leaving his lips until he was spilling himself.

Heavy breaths and pants of exhaustion filled the small laundry room, the air smelled like sex, and the remnants of your forbidden times were left as evidence. Eric eventually spun you around to face him, a soft smile on his lips. You had only ever seen it once, after he ate you out days ago. It was rare to see Eric smile, but you made it a vow to yourself that you would always make him smile like this.

“How fucked up are we? Finding comfort in each other like this. Did it ever cross your mind?” You said softly as Eric helped you dress. He was bending down to grab your sweater and he stood up to his full height, towering over you, and his eyes were laced with an indescribable feeling.

“When I first saw you, I didn’t know what it was, but I was so drawn to you, I looked for you everyday, and I thought I would go mad if I didn’t have you. And right now, I can tell you it’s not just lust. I’m entranced by you, I need you all the time. And if there’s one thing I learned from this fucking place is that you have to latch on to something, otherwise you’ll drown.”

You were speechless, nothing but your soft breaths could be heard. A smile fell on your lips and you leaned into his chest. Eric sighed softly, wrapping his arms around you, holding you close to his chest, he’d be damn if he ever let you go anywhere but here.

“Addicts will be addicts, no matter how much they try to fix us. But it’s not always to drugs we’re addicted to.” You sighed softly, closing your eyes as you sank into the feeling of his arms. “This feeling? I never want it to stop.”

“It doesn’t have to.” He mumbled into your hair, in his head reminding himself of your limited time, but he refused to let you go just yet. “Forever, right?”

“Yeah, forever.”

#eric draven x reader #eric draven smut #eric draven 2024 #Eric Draven #the crow 2024 #the crow

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azzibuckets · 2 months ago

Text

letters from dallas part 1

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

a/n: in which i neglect all the other series and fics im supposed to be writing to send more angst ur way <3

lfd masterlist | main masterlist

May 1, 2025

Dear Azzi,

It fucking sucks here.

I know I’m supposed to be thankful for this opportunity. And I am, I swear. My teammates are nice. Arike’s been showing me around downtown. Nai and Lyss are funny. They’ve adopted me, called me their child. They remind me of us.

My therapist said it’s good to write down my feelings. Not sure how she’d say if it was letters, letters to you, but hey, something is better than nothing.

I saw a trailer for Frozen 3 last week and I thought of you. I hope you’re doing well. I called KK the other day. She was so excited - I felt bad. I haven’t been as good as I wanted to be with talking to our team - well, your team now - but it hurts too much knowing that they get to spend every day with you and I can’t. I asked her about you. She seemed hesitant to tell me. But I kept nagging her and she told me you’re good, spending a lot of time reading and stuff. Said they finally got you off Colleen Hoover. She wants me to move on, I can tell. It’s killing both of us, how I can’t let you go. But I guess writing these letters and stuffing them in my closet are how I’m trying to get my closure and deal with my feelings, so maybe this will help.

You’re on my fucking mind all the time, and I wish you weren’t. I miss you so bad sometimes it hurts to exist. If you saw the amount of melatonin I take every every night just to avoid you in my dreams, you’d probably yell at me.

Love,

Paige

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

June 7, 2025

Dear Azzi,

Have I mentioned that Drew hasn’t been talking to me? He blames me for our breakup, and he misses you like hell. I do too.

I played like shit in the game yesterday. I can’t believe we lost to the Sparks. It was nice seeing Cam again though. I don’t know if you remember, but it’s our anniversary. I saw that you were at the soccer game with the girls. You looked really good, really happy. I guess it doesn’t affect you like it affects me. And I know that should make me like, mad, or jealous. But I’m glad at least one of us is healing?

Honestly? it sucks having to see your face all over social media. It sucks even more whenever I go on my Instagram page and you’re all over it too. I could be salty and delete all of it, but that would start too much drama. Besides, that would mean deleting like half my posts

I wonder how Jose and Jon are doing. Jon unfollowed me the other day. That one hurt pretty bad. I miss my little brothers, and I miss your parents.

Love,

Paige

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

August 28, 2025

Dear Azzi,

Yesterday was a fucking shit show. Honestly, I didn’t expect you to even show up when I heard you guys were coming. It was weird, seeing you in the audience. It was everything I’d always imagined, you coming to my games, but it also made me feel sick, knowing this is what could’ve been. What should’ve been. I was nervous the last quarter thinking about what to say to you after the game, but god, Azzi, you couldn’t even look at me. I tried to talk to you after the group pic but you disappeared.

Maybe it’s a good time to tell you that Katie and Tim were at my game last week, against the Mystics. I’m gonna be honest, when I saw they were there, I avoided them, and I’m not proud of it. I ran to my car straight after the presser but somehow they found where I parked and were waiting next to it?? If this was a different circumstance I would’ve laughed.

All they told me was great game before I started crying. I don’t even know what came over me. But your mom hugged me and that made me cry even harder. They told me I was their daughter no matter what, and they loved me. I wrote it down as soon as I left because I didn’t ever wanna forget.

Azzi, we didn’t even marry each other like we promised, and I still feel like we left a broken family. I didn’t mean for this many people to get hurt, for this many relationships to shatter because ours did.

It makes forgetting you so much harder, and that’s what pisses me off. That I’ve injured my knee and gone through months of rehab and moved across the country to a brand new city, yet this is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

From,

Paige

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

October 2nd, 2025

Dear Azzi,

I was calling KK again and I didn’t ask about you this time. I think I’m making some progress.

Arike keeps trying to get me with some of her friends, but it still doesn’t feel right. I think I need a little bit more time.

From,

Paige

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

October 20, 2025

Dear Azzi,

I turn 24 today. Damn I feel old. I’ve spent a third of my life now loving you.

From,

Paige

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

October 22nd, 2025

Dear Azzi,

I just got your present in the mail. You didn’t have to. I love it. Thank you.

- Paige

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

November 11, 2025

Happy birthday big head. I think you probably received my gift by now. I debated on writing a card, but you didn’t write me one, and I’ve decided to leave the cards (haha) in your hand. So I’m just following your lead. I hope you enjoy 23.

- Paige

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

December 7, 2025

Azzi,

Hell of a game yesterday. Proud of you. National player of the year performance

- P

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

April 5, 2026

Az,

LET’S FUCKING GOOOO. Shit, man. Two peat natty champs??? Unbelievable. My hands are tweaking out, I can’t even read my own handwriting. I knew you could do it, Az. Thank you for not forcing me to wear irish merch..I never look good in green like you do

- P

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

April 13, 2026

Azzi,

Drafted to the Sky????

See you so fucking soon

Nice fit at the draft btw

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

May 16, 2026

Dear Azzi,

Fuck, the way you smiled at me after that game. Maybe I’ll have the courage to finally text you. I know it’s probably not the best idea but…I still regret everything. It’s been a little bit more than a year and it still hurts as bad as it did the first day. Is this normal?

Love,

Paige

#paige bueckers #azzi fudd #pazzi #uconnwbb #paige x azzi #angst #paige bueckers x azzi fudd

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imnotshua · 2 months ago

Text

joke me something awful - jww

٠࣪⭑ pairing: jeon wonwoo x fem reader ٠࣪⭑ summary: it's 2002 and you ask wonwoo to take you home. later, he wonders why you haven't been doing this the whole time. ٠࣪⭑ genre: childhood friends to lovers, smut, fluff, angst, college au ٠࣪⭑ rating: explicit. minors do not interact with me, i'll block you. ٠࣪⭑ warnings: swearing, drinking, undefined relationships. not really a situationship tho, it’s very much mutual pining. reader and wonwoo are just stupid regular people who say and do stupid things, it is intentional, please love them anyway. wonwoo is down bad i'm so sorry friends, he is just!!!!!! occasional use of pet names (baby & angel from wonwoo. darling/sweetheart from others), no use of y/n or other variations, porn with plot mostly, ambiguous ending (sorry my beloveds). wonwoo could do with some more confidence ig. a bitter ex (oc) is mentioned and important for the plot! mentions of previous hook ups between wonwoo and reader. toxicity from the ex, but i don’t particularly think reader and wonu are! they just :(((((( feel free to correct me tho. ٠࣪⭑ smut contents: gendered terms, kisses, fingering (pussy + mouths), oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (it's 2002 college students were stupid then ok), dry humping lmao, cum eating, wonwoo on top, cum in pants, sloppy kinda, wet patches <3, soooo much hand holding, morning sex, neediness <333333, all in all they are quite soft and disgustingly into each other. if you think i've forgotten anything please let me know so i can fix my post! ٠࣪⭑ wc: 5.4k - complete ٠࣪⭑ a/n: i listened to fob's from under the cork tree on repeat for like 2 weeks straight and needed to do something with the feelings in my chest. this universe started in a different work that i'll post another time, this is the before. it is complete on its own, can be read without the others, but please note that future fics for this couple will be non-linear and feature different stages of their lives. the title comes from Fall Out Boys I've Got A Dark Alley–. Please consider listening to Air - Yeji, it's the feeling this couple gives me. ٠࣪⭑ thank yous: to my loves, @100vern and @starlightkyeom– thank you for putting up with my screaming over wonwoo, thank u for reading this over and telling me it wasn't gross. to jewel again, thank you for the banner. i appreciate u both so much. to everyone else, thank you for coming to my little corner, i hope you enjoy this one.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

2002

Wonwoo didn’t apply for the fellowship program, despite all your insistence that if you got in he’d be sure to, that he’s smarter than you’ll ever be. At the time he said it felt like too much work, but later he realised he couldn’t take the fear of rejection. This would’ve just been another failed start. Deep down he wondered if he’d even deserve it.

The celebratory dinner for new scholars is supposedly an elitist, snobby, and frankly, horrid affair so naturally you’re going. If only to foster those connections you’re making for your future career. Wonwoo turns his nose up but he agrees to be your date nonetheless. You don’t have to beg, just ask the question and say he wouldn’t embarrass you like the man you’ve been dating for four months, and that fills him with some strange sense of achievement.

Of course, once that guy hears you’re taking Wonwoo instead of him, he dumps you without ceremony. And now Wonwoo sits on your bed in a rented suit far too expensive for him to feel entirely comfortable in, watching your reflection choose which earrings to wear, and he wonders if you’re even bothered. He doesn’t know how to talk to you about this. Partners are off limits, usually, but since he had some involvement in the break up, in some roundabout way, he thinks maybe he should at least check. He wets his lips.

“How are you feeling?” he asks. “Since Hongseok?”

You meet his eyes in the mirror. “Fine,” you say. “I don’t think it was going anywhere. He wanted something more traditional. I started to get the impression he was setting up to cheat on me, actually.”

Wonwoo is unsurprised, sounds like you are too. “You’re better off without him,” he says, picking at bits of fluff from your blanket clinging to his trousers. It’s one his mother knitted for your sixteenth birthday. “You’ll meet someone new in no time.”

“Yeah, I don’t know,” you start. “I think I’ll stay single for a while.”

Wonwoo lifts his eyebrows in surprise and you catch him in the mirror. With a laugh you say, “Don’t look at me like that.”

“You’ve been a serial dater since we moved to this city and you’re stopping now?” Wonwoo’s lips twist into a grin. Teasing is easier than edging too close to real. “Just when you’ve hit your prime?”

You scoff. “Rude. I’ll hit my prime in my thirties. Just watch.”

Wonwoo watches as you apply your usual lipstick and thinks about the time you didn’t wear any. You were just kids but it didn’t seem so long ago. You’re almost the same. Eighteen years of your starkly different lives intertwined and somehow still as close as you ever were. Still the sharpest person he’s ever known, still the sweetest if only in private. Still his parents' favourite person, still his. (His stomach twists).

You’re giving yourself a final appraisal in the mirror before turning to Wonwoo and asking how you look.

“Good,” he says, with a nod. Breathtaking, really. “Pretty.”

“Thanks,” you say, smiling relieved, moving to sit next to him on the bed and linking his arm. “We scrub up well, don’t we?”

“Mm,” he agrees, following your gaze into the mirror, pinpricks creeping over his skin. You look like you’re together, he thinks, as he notices you’ve chosen earrings that go with his tie. Anyone could make that assumption.

“You look sad, Wonwoo,” you say, quiet and soft. “Are you sad?”

“No,” he says, throat tight and feeling like his back is pressed against the wall. “What would I have to be sad about?” He lets you slip your hand into his, lets you lean your head on his shoulder for a moment, because this is how you make him feel better. Because you know that he can’t be pushed to talk about things he hardly understands. Barely a minute goes by before he sucks in a breath and says, “Shall I call us a taxi?”

“Sure, number’s in the book next to the telephone,” you say. “Want a drink? I need one for this.”

“Water for me, someone’s got to get you home.”

“Aw, come on. Don’t make me drink alone.” You laugh when Wonwoo rolls his eyes. “I’ll be on my best behaviour, I promise. My reputation’s on the line.”

“One beer,” he offers. You pout and he can’t stop his smile.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It went like this:

Both of you had no less than three drinks before the taxi showed up.

Your peers kept thinking that he was your “elusive boyfriend” and upon correction that he was ‘just Wonwoo’ their eyes lit up and exclaimed “oh we’ve heard so much about you!”

The way he blushed made you want to kiss him silly (you had another drink instead).

Drink five? Four? Everyone here is obliterated, no one notices you and Wonwoo readying to leave.

He looks so pretty like this, tie undone, glasses slipping down his nose, pulling off his jacket and draping it over your shoulders, watching your lips as you talk.

The taxi you pre booked won’t be here for another ten minutes but the room was so stuffy (in both the literal and figurative sense) that as soon as you tell Wonwoo you need to get out of there, he’s nodding and pulling you out into the street. It’s so busy– of course, it’s OT week– that you struggle to find a spot where you won’t be bumped into for a while, eventually settling against the wall of the building opposite, in good view of the road. The noise around you is hectic, and you’re desperate for something less bothersome. Wonwoo looks drunk, looks fucked out. Cheeks flushed and lips parted. Eyes closed, he tips his head back against the brick and exposes the column of his throat. Pretty.

“Hey,” you say, slipping your arms around his waist. “Thanks for coming with me.”

Wonwoo hums. “Yeah, ‘course.” A pause– he wraps his arms around your shoulders. He’s so heavy but you like how it feels. “Anything for you.”

There’s a saccharine sweetness stirring in your stomach. You ask him to tell you the story of Baucis and Philemon again, press your body against his and hope he can still read you like he used to. It’s been years. Maybe he won’t want to.

“Why do you like that one so much?” he asks. You take in the smell of his soap. You know you shouldn’t want to go down this road again. “It’s hardly even a love story.”

“They’re the ultimate love story,” you insist, looking up at your friend to find him already watching you. “They’re precious to each other. I want that kind of love.”

It’s more than that. Baucis and Philemon have a timeless love. Their lightness oozes out of them, their love is both infectious and tender. So devoted they choose to die together. Never without the other even after they’re gone– turned to trees, and their branches and roots weave together so tightly that you can’t tell where either one of them starts and they stay like that, as relics of a lost ancient world.

There is something ancient about Wonwoo, too. For as long as you can remember he has been older than his years, telling stories of places long buried, of deities forgotten about. You think maybe he was meant for then and not now, the cusp of the twenty-first century. He keeps echoes within him. Carries heavy stones to turn over in his hands and spend time memorising the marks. He is deliberate in the way he moves, no ill-perceived rush, and Wonwoo’s silence carries more weight than his words.

So when his eyes flicker to your lips again, and he still doesn’t move, you know it’s on you. You know you’re going to have to be the one to shift the sands, change the direction of the tide. You’ve been lovers before. Neither of you have ever said never.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

He’d been thinking about it all night but you were the one to press your lips against the corner of his mouth, eyes on his and holding the proximity. Are you thinking about it like he is? Is your heart thrumming in your chest like his?

“I can feel you thinking.”

“Uh huh.” His mouth goes dry. He can’t kiss you with a sandpaper tongue.

You run a finger between two buttons on his shirt, eyes up, watching his reaction. “Can I stay at your place tonight? Hansol’s at his parents' house this weekend, right?”

Wonwoo’s mind goes blank and he can feel the pink creep over his cheeks. “Did you squeeze your Pompompurin pyjamas in that little bag?”

Your lips twitch in an almost smile, lean in to ghost a kiss against his bottom lip. Wait to see if he pulls back– he doesn’t. His hands just slip down your back, touching the skin under the strap of your dress. Didn’t imagine when he helped you zip up earlier that he’d be the one invited to pull it off you. Has he hidden his desire so poorly? “Do you wanna fuck me in those pyjamas, Wonwoo?”

The street noise is drowned out when you kiss him properly, and it’s embarrassing the way he’s breathless, gripping at your waist and pulling your body closer. Humiliating that this is in full view of strangers, doesn’t want them to see how you lick into his mouth, doesn’t want them to hear your sharp gasp as his teeth drag over your bottom lip. He spins you on the spot, crowds you against the brick and blocks out the world with his shoulders. You pull on a button and slip your hand through the gap. The touch burns. Your kisses are suffocating, loves the way you smile into it, the way you make him chase your lips, run your fingers along the waistband of his trousers an– fuck– he’s gonna get hard in the middle of the street.

Desperate, he pulls off you and whips his head around to look for the taxi, you’re already complaining. “Not here–,” he says, words rasped, catching in his throat. He can see the taxi rounding the corner, and in a beat he’s pushing off the wall and dragging you toward it by the hand.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

He doesn’t touch you in the taxi. Hopes you know it’s not because he didn’t want to, he just doesn’t want to lose himself. His fingers flex eager on the leather seats, wanting something he won’t take. As the driver fiddles with the radio, you lean over to lay your hand across his, to whisper in his ear, “do you still lick your fingers after you’ve made someone come on them?” Wonwoo doesn’t answer, but he can feel the way you watch him swallow– thick– and stare hard out the window at the passing lights. He never did that with anyone but you.

Now you’re paying for it. He’s more confident in the privacy of his bedroom, in the dark. Cages you in his bed, doesn’t bother to turn on the lights before smothering you with his body. Your mouth on his– wet, and eager, and bruising. His hands move to your face, in your hair, angling your head to give his lips access to the tender spot behind your ear. He’s got your dress bunched up around your waist. Takes up all the space between your legs, still too much fabric separating you. One of Wonwoo’s hands cast over the swell of your breast, his thumb tracing circles over your nipple through the thin fabric. You melt into the touch, rolling your hips against him, he sighs into your skin. “Can feel how hard you are,” you gasp, hands pulling at his hair. Makes his skin electric.

He moves faster, desperate, and you trap his body between your legs, angle your hips so his cock can rub against your clothed cunt just right. “Gonna ruin your trousers,” you whisper. Yeah yeah yeah, fuck it, he’ll pay for dry cleaning for once. The warmth, the wet, seeping through makes him insane. Needs it more than ever, needs you just like this, breath ragged and pupils blown. Needs you needing him so bad you can’t even get out of your clothes before you come. Needs you whining, needs you telling him how badly you want it. Won’t ask for anything, but you know what he likes. It’s always been easy with you.

“Feels good,” you say. Wonwoo nods into your neck, the pressure building so fast it’s blinding. Hips thrusting rough, rutting like an animal against your clit, desperate for you to get off before he falls apart but he’s so cl–”Missed you so much, Wonwoo.”

“Ah, fu- fuck–” You’re sucking a mark into his neck and Wonwoo can’t stop. Comes hard, breath catching and his rhythm is all fucked up, so fucking embarrased that he couldn’t draw this out. You’re talking him through it– sounds like heaven whispering how good he is, how good this feels, how you love how he sounds when he forgets himself. Didn’t realise he was groaning. A mess of a person reflected in the cum staining through the fabric of this horribly expensive rental.

Shit.

Needs to get out of this fucking suit. Needs to press his face into your cunt. Wants to ruin you for everyone else. Four years– you wasted four years with other people when you could’ve been doing this. Pushes away thoughts of you being someone else's not even a week ago. Some sick, possessive slice of him wants to reclaim you, mark you up and present you as his to the world. Wants to take the cum in his underwear and push it into your body. Look, see, she’s mine mine mine. Wonwoo’s chest aches.

Your clothes shed in silence. You lay him back against the pillows, kneeling next to him with spread legs, he loves when you let him see. You take one of his hands in yours and work circles into his palm as you pull two of his fingers into your mouth. Get them slick with spit, work your tongue over the tips of his fingers. He can hardly breathe watching you manoeuvre his hand down your body against your cunt, using him like a toy, until his remaining brain cells start to work and he takes over the movement. He’s half hard again already.

“Shit, you’re so wet,” he rasps. Crooks his fingers and you whine. Wants to eat the sounds spilling from your lips. Needs to do something with his mouth so he doesn’t say something stupid. “Sit on my face?” he asks, obvious urgency in his voice.

“N-no, like this first,” you say, almost like you’re begging. “Missed your hands so much.”

You look at him through hazy eyes as he works you quickly to the edge, pulling whimpers from your throat every time he plays with your clit. Feels you get impossibly wet when he slips his fingers in deep and moans unashamed along with you. You buck into his palm, head tipping forward to watch his soaked long fingers fucking into you agonisingly slow. Your breath stutters in your throat as he uses his other hand to tease your skin, trailing gently over the meat of your thigh, your ribs, cupping your breast and then dragging you over him to take a nipple in his mouth. Flicks his wet tongue over until it pebbles between his teeth, and you gasp.

“M’close already,” you whisper. “Gonna come, Wonwoo.” He ruts his hard cock into the air, chasing heat that isn’t there. Fucking loser. You don’t even notice with the way he’s got your breaths coming in fragments. You come undone like lightning, cunt soaking and pulsing around his fingers, your body collapses on top of him, your forehead pressed into his chest. Wonwoo wants a taste but wants to work you through the aftershocks first. He teases slow circles over your clit until you fall apart with a sob, and have to drag his hand out from between your legs.

He waits until you sag to your side– catches sight of your cheeks, flushed and sweat sticking to your skin, your pupils blown out and breathing shallow, more beautiful than he’s ever seen you– before he brings his fingers to his mouth to taste you on them.

“You’re indecent,” you laugh in disbelief. He almost feels gross until you’re babbling about how hot he is. How he makes you insane. You laugh again when he rolls you onto your back and settles between your legs. It’s been so long he needs to do this right. Starts by pressing a gentle kiss to your clit, ghosts more over your centre, waits for the sound of your gentle sigh before laving a thick stripe over you. Knows just the way to make you molten. He laps at your core until you’re almost sobbing. You jolt whenever his nose slips over your clit, and you’re begging for him to stop the tease. He’ll never deny you what you want. His tongue flicks fast over your clit, his face wet with you now. His moans sound muffled against your cunt when his name falls from your lips in staccato breaths.

Things have hardly changed. Four years and now, it’s just the fucking same. Your fingers still find purchase in his hair the same way. Mouths at your inner thighs to give your cunt a break. Shit, you’re so hot. You’re clenching around fucking nothing. Pulls the skin between his teeth and you’re writhing, trying to get his tongue back where you need it. Love when you get desperate like this.

Your nails drag over the nape of his neck and he’s close to losing control– fucks his cock against the mattress and almost cries at the pressure. You grind against his face, Wonwoo knows you’re close. Blacks out as he eats you like he’s been starving, his face so slick with spit and you it drips down his chin to the sheets. Doesn’t dare stop to breathe as he feels your legs begin to shudder over his shoulders. He watches the way you look down at him, brows pinched pleasure, waits for your lips to fall apart with a broken sob before licking into you so deep. He can’t tell who comes first, can’t tell who the enormous wet patch on the mattress belongs to, doesn’t fucking care, just wants to keep you.

He moves over you when you’re done, pressing chaste kisses to the corner of your mouth, to your cheeks, to your temple, before you’re giggling and pulling his body next to yours.

“Shift over,” he says, tapping at your hip. “Don’t wanna sleep in the wet patch.”

“Did you come again?” you ask, moving to the side to give him space.

Wonwoo nods, cheeks instantly flushing with heat. But there’s no need for embarrassment because you’re sucking in a breath. Seriously, you say “You have no idea how much I like that.”

He doesn’t reply, just fits his body against yours and presses a kiss to your shoulder. Lets your words wash over him. Sleep comes for him quicker than he wants it, but not before he slides his hand into yours, not before telling you he missed you too.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Mascara stains Wonwoo’s pillowcase but right now he doesn’t care. It’s still too early, still dark outside, but this room is hot, his breath is hot, your leg thrown over his waist is hot, and he’s considering just how monumental this is. It’s been almost four years since you touched him like this. In school it started with a ‘one kiss won’t ruin us’ and ended just before university with a ‘are we still friends?’ Way back then you both swore blind that you could just go back to your regular scheduled programming and nothing had to change. An agreement that those brief months you had (not quite) together in high school were just two best friends helping each other out. A mutual understanding that the love you share is completely and utterly platonic, and platonic friends can totally kiss/touch/fuck for a few months without it ruining something more special than sex. Except he didn’t really mean it. The trouble was that Wonwoo knew even then that he wanted something all consuming. Felt it with you. Wasn’t sure if you wanted the same.

Wonwoo is absolutely not spiralling.

You’re still sound asleep (always are after nights like the last), and his arm is trapped. Back then he’d use this time to bask in you. With you wrapped up in him it was easy to feel like you were completely his. He used to feel like he could do anything to you, and you’d let him. You’d want it, even. Didn’t actually want to take you over but knowing that he could– the intensity of that scared him. Now that feeling doesn’t come, maybe because you’ve had the separation of time and different lovers, he doesn’t know really. He still doesn’t understand what happened before university. Doesn’t get why you stopped coming over when he was so close to unbottling the feelings in his chest. Just knows that the conversation took him by surprise even after a week of distance. Just knows how his chest ached even as he agreed that it’d be sensible to put it all to bed before leaving your sleepy town for the big city. Knows how his gut twisted sharp when you said that just because you were going together didn’t mean you should go together. Maybe he should’ve protested then, showed you how much he needed you. Impossibilities stretch out before him– if it went that way, last night wouldn’t have happened, he wouldn’t be tracing tiny figures of eight on the small of your back right now. If you’d been together then, young and stupid, would you have stood the test of time?

You stir, half roused, and Wonwoo swallows the lump in his throat, choosing to be grateful for the now. He pulls your waist closer, runs his hand under your thigh to gently adjust the weight. Your eyes are still closed but you make a soft sound of surprise.

“What time is it?” you ask, voice thick with sleep.

“Too early,” he whispers back. “Go back to sleep.”

“I was dreaming,” you murmur.

“What about?”

Your smile is lazy against his skin. “Can’t tell you,” you say. “You’d run away.”

Wonwoo thinks hard about this. “I don’t run away,” he says, quiet and serious.

You blink open soft eyes to look at him, and Wonwoo feels too much. “Your face is all frozen, Wonwoo,” you say, gentle. “Are you okay?”

“Kiss me. Wish me good morning.” Wonwoo’s voice comes out with more edge than he intends. Doesn’t sound like his own. Feels cheap, something sleazy. Feels tragically guilty about it until he sees the look on your face. Like you want to eat him.

Your gaze is dark when you lock eyes with him. Push up with your hands, straddling his hips, his cock against your rear. You take his hands, larger than yours, place them on your ribcage, push them down down down, making goosebumps pebble along in his wake, until he’s using his thumbs to spread you apart. A little wet already, leaves a slick mark on his skin. He sighs at the sight of it. Your breath comes harder when he plays with your clit. You lean over, say– “Good morning, Wonwoo.” Press a delicate kiss to his top lip. “You’re gonna come inside me this time, okay?”

Wonwoo isn’t religious, but he feels like angels made you for him. Tells you so, and you gasp against his mouth. The way you kiss him this time is anything but angelic. Wet. Messy. Sharp teeth leaving imprints on his lips. It hurts. Nice in a way it shouldn’t be. A relief– the way the hurt makes his mind stop. You roll your hips against him and he makes a desperate sort of noise. Keeps his eyes focused on his fingers drawing circles on your clit. Your hands reach behind you to stroke his hardening cock and he arches into your touch. “Needy,” you chastise. Wonwoo nods.

Doesn’t want it like this. Wants you under him, wants to fuck you slow. Tells you so, the words come anguished, almost– and you nod dumbly. You don’t drag out the build up. Lay on your back, open your legs for him, spread them wide and line his cock up with your wet heat so quick he doesn’t have time to overthink. He makes a strangled sound when he pushes inside. The slide is agonisingly slow. He’s being so careful, as if you’d crack like china - fragile beneath him. You clench around his cock, thick and scalding- God, it’s sweet torture. Wants more of it.

You pull, desperate, at his waist, rolling your hips against him but he’s pulling out. This time he just slides the head in, hisses, teases, and back out. He does it again, and again, doesn’t know who this teasing is for. He’s licking into your mouth, pressing hungry kisses on your open lips, eating up all your noises, your whines, your soft moans. Things are still the same. He likes going so so deep into you, bottoming out and grinding his skin against your clit, likes when your moan comes muffled in his open wet mouth. It’s the same. Likes when your hands find purchase in the sheets, fist them in desperation, likes when you feel it’s not enough so you grab at his, intertwine your fingers and let him fuck you like this. Like you’re in love. It’s still the same.

“How do you feel, angel?”

“Uh–” A pause to suck in a fractured breath.

“Tell me how you feel,” he says. Almost begging. Would be mortifying if he whispered that against anyone else’s cheek. Can feel the wetness there too.

“Homesick,” you gasp. “I feel homesick.”

He fucks you harder then, driving into you so deep he could be part of you. Melt in, blend together, blur the lines, weave the fucking branches. You’re full of spells, he thinks. Made of magic. Doesn’t realise until after that he’s said it aloud. Wet starshine eyes on his as you come apart, pussy pulsing around his cock, impossibly wet, telling him come with me baby, babbling nonsense about how you want it inside, how you need it so bad, how he makes you feel so good.

Wonwoo really looks at you before he comes. Takes a moment to commit your face to memory. Any time could be the last and he needs this– needs you– to stay with him. Doesn’t know if he’ll ever be the same.

“Like that, Wonwoo” you’re saying, all breathy and high-pitched as he spills into you with a choked whine. “Like when you–” Cum slips out around his cock and he gathers it up on his fingers. Pushes them into your mouth to stop you talking. Can’t bear it. Can’t bear the way your pupils blow out and you lick the cum from his fingers. Can’t stand how his name sounds in your mouth, sweeter, more precious, because there’s something like love coating it. God, he wants to be yours.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Wonwoo likes your apartment better. Likes the way your sheets start to smell like him too. You’ve always carved out space for him but this time it’s deeper. Likes showering with you here, not to fuck, just to wash away the mess you make of each other. Likes holding you in his arms under the stream, running the lather across your skin, loving kisses pressed against your forehead. Lately he stays here more often than he goes home.

You haven’t said the words yet, neither has he. Doesn’t want to push too much too soon.

It’s just after nine on Sunday morning, and you’re out of– well, pretty much everything. He offers to go but you insist he stays in bed, hair messed up, sheets pooling in his bare lap, glasses slipping down his nose while he rereads Kafka on the Shore. “Stay just like that,” you say it like a demand, but you’re smiling, pulling a scarf around your neck to run down the street to the shop, maybe stop at the deli for breakfast. “Back in a bit, don’t move an inch.”

A few minutes go by when the shrill of the telephone in the living room punctuates the silence. Wonwoo doesn’t get up to answer, it’d be improper, what if it was your mother? So he lets it ring through to answerphone, and when it clicks on it takes him a moment to recognise the voice calling your name.

“Are you there? Pick up, darling, pick up.” Wonwoo knows Hongseok has been trying to get back together with you. You’d mentioned it a few weeks ago, how he’d sent flowers. You don’t even like roses.

“I saw you by the river yesterday,” he says. Wonwoo looks up, stares at the wall. You’d insisted on getting out of the apartment, pulled your bodies from soft sheets and into soft sweaters, and Wonwoo only complained a little bit. In truth he loved walking with you. That he can hold your hand in public and no one bats an eye. Loves that you can be his here, that you claim him too. “You’re with him now? How long, darling? Does he fuck you like I do? ”

Wonwoo scoffs. Hongseok is just jealous. Wonwoo gets it. He does. Even if he’d never dream of saying it.

Hongseok’s voice turns nasty now. “Do you think he’ll stay this time? Does he know you’ve been in love with him this whole time? Everyone else knows. He won’t love you properly, you know. He’s just using you like last time, is he still keeping you a secret? You don’t deserve that, darling. You don’t deserve to be hidden–”

Is that what you thought? That he hid you? Bile swirls in Wonwoo’s stomach. Does he do that? Did he hurt you?

“–he’s just gonna fuck you up again and you’re gonna be miserable. But he won’t let you be happy with anyone, will he? Selfish fucking prick, he’s so cruel to you. You don’t see it, do you? It’s pathetic how fucking dumb you are for him–”

Wonwoo didn’t think he was cruel. There is spit pooling in his mouth, his stomach churns. Is he cruel to you?

The line clicks off as Hongseok spits out every name under the sun, but Wonwoo doesn’t hear the rest as he retches into your bathroom sink.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Forty minutes later, you’re calling out to Wonwoo that you’re home as you kick off your shoes. “I got us bagels, do you want the salmon cream cheese or the egg and ba- oh! You’re up.”

Wonwoo sits on your sofa in soft sweats and a baggy white t-shirt. His skin and hair are damp from the shower. The whites of his eyes are bloodshot. “You okay?” you ask, tentatively.

“Hmm,” he says. “Didn’t feel too good earlier.”

“Poor you,” you say. “Will breakfast make you feel better?”

“No, sorry,” he says, his voice uncharacteristically stiff. “I think I should head home. Don’t wanna give you a bug.”

You laugh softly, unpacking the groceries from the bags. “You spat in my mouth last night, if you’ve got something then I’ll have it in no time,” you say. “C’mon, stay. I’ll look after you. I’ll make soup.”

But Wonwoo is already standing, pulls a little money from his wallet and leaves it on the table. “What’s that for?”

“Breakfast,” he says. “Feel bad you bought all this and I need to go.”

You frown. “Stop being strange, I don’t care about the food, just get the next one.”

Wonwoo sighs. He’s annoyed, you realise. This is weird.

In the end you let him leave without drama, but not without a kiss to his cheek. He leans into it a little longer than usual. Closes his eyes as he hugs you goodbye.

You eat breakfast alone. TV on, sound off, wondering what the fuck even happened before you notice the light of your answerphone flickering.

New message, left 09:21:

Hi Sweetheart! It’s your aunt’s birthday next week, just calling to remind you to send a card. Call me back, okay, love you, bye!

End of messages.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

sorry about the ending there :( if it helps, it does get better for them. thank you so much for reading! if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging so my fic can get seen outside my own little space <3 i love seeing your feedback. if you'd prefer to scream at me directly, feel free to send me a message <3 ily, goodnight!

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delilahsturniolo · 2 months ago

Text

— ୨୧ nostalgia . . . m.s

in which . . . you spot your ex boyfriend matt at a party, and you decide to be a tease to piss him off on purpose

warnings . . . smut, unprotected sex, car sex, kissing, breast play, dirty talk, use of pet names, a little bit of praise, teasing, cursing.

written by @delilahsturniolo. do not copy, steal, or modify my works. if you are taking any inspiration from this, please ask me first before posting and credit me in your description. happy reading! :)

SO CLOSE TO WHAT WRITING MARATHON . . . fic #15

you spot him the moment you walk in. matt. standing near the bar, laughing at something, his head tilting back just the way you remember. it’s been months, but the sight of him still sends a shiver down your spine. you weren’t expecting him to be here, but maybe, just maybe, that’s exactly why you came. your dress is shorter than necessary, your lips painted in the shade he used to smudge with his kisses. you glide through the room, pretending not to notice him, but you know he sees you. you can feel the weight of his stare tracing the curve of your bare shoulder, dipping lower.

you’re talking to someone. some guy whose name you won’t remember tomorrow…but matt is watching, and that’s the point. you laugh, tilting your head back just a little too much, letting your fingers trail along your collarbone, knowing exactly what it does to him. you sip your drink slow, licking the rim of the glass, and when you finally turn, meeting his eyes across the room, it’s electric.

matt’s next to you before you can blink, his voice low and rough. “you tryna start something?” you lift a shoulder, feigning innocence. “me? never.” but his hand is already at your waist, fingers pressing into the fabric, a silent challenge. the party hums around you, music pulsing, laughter ringing out, but it all fades as he leans in, his breath warm against your ear. “if you keep teasing me like that, sweetheart, you know what’s gonna happen.” you smile, slow and sweet, because that’s exactly what you want.

his voice sends a thrill down your spine, but you don’t let it show. instead, you swirl your drink in your glass, pretending to think. “hmm. what’s gonna happen, matt?” your voice is all sugar and sin, and you know it drives him crazy. his fingers tighten at your waist, pulling you just a little closer, his body heat seeping into yours. you don’t resist. maybe you press into him just enough to make him feel it, the way your body remembers his. the way it still fits.

“you know exactly what,” he murmurs, eyes dark, locked onto yours. “but you like to play, don’t you?”you do. you always have. especially with him. you tilt your chin up, lips inches from his, close enough that his breath hitches. then you pull back, your fingers trailing down his chest like a whisper. “i have no idea what you mean.”

his jaw clenches, and you feel the tension crackling between you like a live wire. you wonder how long he’ll last before he snaps. before he forgets why you two ever walked away from each other in the first place. he exhales sharply, eyes flicking around the crowded room, then back to you. “come with me.”it’s not a request. it never is with him. but you’re not going to make it easy.

“why should i?” you tease, stepping back just a little, knowing he’ll follow. his fingers catch yours before you get too far, pulling you back against him, chest to chest. your breath catches, and for a second, neither of you move. it would be so easy—too easy—to give in right here, in the middle of the party, under the dim lights, with the bass thumping through the floor. “because,” he says, voice low and thick, “if you don’t, i’m gonna make you regret every second you wasted teasing me.”

your heart slams against your ribs, heat curling in your stomach. you smirk, lips inches from his. “make me, then.”

his eyes darken at your challenge, and for a moment, he just stares at you, jaw tight, fists clenching at his sides like he’s holding himself back. but you know better. you know he’s never been good at resisting you. just like you’ve never been good at resisting him. then, before you can even blink, his hand slides down to your wrist, fingers wrapping around it with just enough pressure to send a shiver down your spine. he leans in, so close that his lips brush against your ear, his voice thick with something that makes your stomach twist.

“let’s get out of here.”

you should say no. you should walk away. but instead, you let him pull you through the crowd, past the pulsing music and the flashing lights, past the people who don’t even notice the way he’s gripping your hand like he owns you. like he always has. the cool night air hit you as the two of you walked out, towards matt’s car. he opened the backseat, practically shoving you inside, climbing in himself and shutting the door. fuck, you knew you shouldn’t be doing this, matt was your ex. but, you really wanted to, you couldn’t resist him.

months of longing, simmering beneath the surface of your relationship, had finally reached a fever pitch. the quiet intimacy of the car, your hands, slick with sweat, moved over the contours of his body, tracing the perfect line of his jaw, the hard planes of his chest, the sculpted muscles taut beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. his eyes, dark pools reflecting the interior lights, were locked onto yours, a silent conversation of unspoken words and desires.

a low moan escaped your lips as his fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you closer. his lips found the hollow of your neck, a trail of hungry kisses that sent shivers crawling down your spine. your own hands fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, tugging it open with a reckless abandon, reveling in the feel of his skin against yours. the rough texture of the fabric against your palms seemed to amplify the heat building between you. matt didn’t hesitate one bit to lift your silk dress.

the engine sputtered, a brief interruption that only heightened the urgency. matt’s hands moved lower, tracing the curve of your hip, the swell of your breasts, and the heat radiating from your core. a gasp escaped your lips as his fingers found the soft flesh of your inner thigh.

"i want you," matt murmured, his voice raspy with need.

"i want you too," you whispered back, your voice barely audible above the rhythmic drumming of the rain. your trembling hands found the worn fabric of his shirt, tugging on the hem of it. the rough texture of the fabric against your palms seemed to amplify the heat building between you.

"take it all off." you breathed, your eyes locked onto his.

matt smirked, a predatory glint in his eyes. "yeah? you want me to?"

"yes please.." you whispered, leaning into him, your body already pressing against his. matt immediately removed his shirt. a low growl rumbled from his chest as he began to slide your panties off of you. the cool night air brushed against your exposed skin, the contrast a stark reminder of the heat igniting between you. matt's fingers slipped between your legs, teasing the soft flesh of your inner thighs, a prelude to something more.

"oh god, matt.." you cried out as he nipped at your neck. the rain continued to fall, a silent witness to your escalating passion. his mouth found the soft curve of your neck, a trail of kisses leading down to the swell of your arousal. he pressed a kiss to your clit, a feather-light touch that sent a wave of pure pleasure through you. you arched into him, your body molding to his, a silent symphony of need. his lips, hungry and urgent, trailed down your stomach, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. his hands, masterful and knowing, explored every inch of your body, each touch igniting a fresh wave of desire. “shouldn’t have been such a tease, baby..” matt let the pet name slip out of his mouth, it was an old habit

he entered you slowly, his movements a rhythmic dance of pleasure and pain. your moans intertwined with the rhythmic drumming of the rain, a soundtrack to your shared passion. your body arched around him, every muscle tense with anticipation and need. his hands, working their magic, pressed against your hips, guiding his rhythm to match the pulse of your desire.

"fuck," you whispered, your body shuddering as he drove a deeper thrust into you. the world dissolved into a symphony of sensations, the only sounds the urgent rasp of your breaths and the throaty moans escaping your lips. your fingers dug into his shoulders, holding him tight, as you reached your peak, a wave of pure, searing pleasure crashing over you.

you clung to him, the heat of your bodies radiating outwards, melting the icy night air around you. he followed closely, his body shuddering with a release that mirrored your own. his seed spilled into you, a warm tide of pleasure that washed over you. a ragged sob escaped your lips as you collapsed against him.

exhausted but exhilarated, you clung to each other, the lingering heat of the moment clinging to the cool leather of the backseat. the rain continued to fall, a silent witness to the passionate encounter. the memory of this clandestine rendezvous, this stolen moment of pure, unadulterated desire, would forever be etched in your minds, a secret whispered in the dark heart of the night. the air was thick with the lingering scent of your combined heat and the sweet, salty taste of passion. “fuck, sweetheart.” matt kissed the top of your head, wiping the sweat off your forehead. “did so good.” he praised.

these moments between you two, were all so nostalgic.

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💌: anddddd that’s a wrap for the writing marathon! thank u all sm for sticking around, i’m so shocked that i was able to write and post for 15 days straight!? my sleep schedule is going through it but it was all so worth it in the enddd i gained 300+ followers from this alone so thank you so truly much words can’t express my gratitude! anyway lots of special and new stuff coming soon yayyy i’m so happy and i would love to try doing this again in the future it was so fun! :)

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simpjaes · 1 year ago

Text

desecration. (s.j)

the one where no gods exist when you’re alone with jake sim.

minors dni !! | if you read it, reblog it.

WORDCOUNT ― 6.4k

PAIRING ― jake sim x afab reader

GENRE ― top/dom jake sim, characters are in their twenties, sub/bratty reader, religious kink/fetish

WARNINGS― mild dub con, desecration of holy a relic, inaccurate descriptions of whatever religion this is– im not doing research for a 5k fic that’s mostly smut, sorry.

NOTE― if you’ve read this before, it’s because I wrote it for mark lee over on my other blog [ncteez]. we wanted to make it jake, and by we i mean me. i wanted to read this as jake. sorry to religious ppl, don’t read this if you don’t wanna be railed by a hot guy wielding a cross.

smut tags under cut::

smut tags― DUB CON. use of the words: whore, slut, for the record, the cross is not raw wood and has a smooth finish, reader is first attempting to seduce the priest through confession lmao, she’s also just a massive whore just like me :), jake is the priest’s son, jerking off, penetration using a wooden cross, unprotected sex, spitting, choking on and/or sucking off a cross, degradation, and name-calling, he’s a godfearing man but also he likes sexual perversions, humiliation, explicitly getting fucked in a church, kind of fingering?

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jake wonders why you’re always making confessions, time and time again, once a week, every single week….eagerly. Like you’re excited for your sin or something.

Huh.

Then again, once a week his father is expected to listen to confessions from the other churchgoers, even Jake himself is expected to confess. Often he will make up sins that he has committed just to seem as though he has been learning from some sort of mistake. Never would Jake actually tell his father through a confession booth what he has done or is willing to do. He’s an adult, he can confess whatever he wants.

You, on the other hand, you’re working his father to the bone in terms of forgiveness.

Jake’s interest piques at the very idea of a young woman, around his age, wanting to confess so much. Did you hurt someone? Does you hurt yourself? Did you kill someone? Or maybe you’re just caught up in a situation that makes you commit atrocities? He can’t even imagine what one person could be doing to elicit such an eager need of forgiveness so consistently.

Always the first in the box, always with those inappropriate outfits too.

Jake makes his way to the back of the church to complete his duties and, of course, he isn’t surprised to see you enter the confession booth. After all, it is the start of a new week.

Hushed whispers were echoing through the large space and only now does he realize that you almost always confess when the church is nearly empty. You must not be unaware of his presence at all, unaware that he is the son of the priest that you spill your sins to, and unaware that he can absolutely hear you when he walks closer.

He isn’t entirely sure why he is listening. The walls of this church echo any and every sound, and to be fair, the only reason his interest is piqued is because his father was silent from the moment you had entered the booth. All he heard was you. You didn’t seem to start the confession off in a proper manner either, so yeah, maybe it caught him off guard too.

His ears make attempts to adjust to the words coming from the booth, but your voice is coming out in a tone that he has never used himself when seeking salvation. Minutes pass and he still hasn’t heard his father speak a word back to you, not to encourage you, not to stop you. It’s just you, addressing dreams, visions, wants, and needs.

Certainly not confession. In fact, you’re actively sinning, attempting to seduce.

“I woke up shaking, Father. What should I do?”

Jake notes how quiet his father is still, despite you asking him what to do about the dream. His face sours when you continue to speak, this time in a slightly louder tone.

“I just can’t help myself sometimes, I–”

It’s not that it’s intentional, really, it isn’t. If anything at all, Jake is incredibly disgusted by your attempts to dirty talk during a confession. Disgusted that you’d do such a thing, and…maybe intrigued by what you may have said that he wasn’t quite able to catch before. He quietly moves to the other side of the booth, the side where you seem to be spouting off all sorts of things, and he raises his head to listen a bit more.

“You were big, you know? I can’t get thoughts of you out of my head. Have you ever touched a woman, Father?”

Jake leans in further, his body reacting more than his disgust. Unfortunately, his length growing in his pants ceases the moment his father cuts you off.

“Enough.” His father finally stops you from abusing the booth, from abusing him.

Not another word is spoken and Jake does his best to back away quickly and quietly as you exit the booth. Of course, he’s acting as though he is sweeping a corner when he turns to look at you. Eye contact is made and he can feel an intense rush of heat spread across his cheeks.

Ah, so you’re a whore.

His father stays inside of the booth for a long, drawn out, three or so minutes before exiting and all Jake can think about is if you walked out of the church soaked and warm between your legs. It’s not even that Jake is into sinning. He isn’t. His entire life was built around this church, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s a man. He has needs just like you do, apparently.

Never would he get what he needs from a woman as dirty as yourself, though, it doesn’t stop him from thinking about it and how your voice sounds when you were actively trying to fuck his dad.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“You’re disgusting.” Jake narrows his eyes at you when you pass by, spitting the words at you with a grimace.

“Excuse me?” You ask, stopping in your tracks and looking back at him just as harshly. You didn’t provoke him to speak to you at all, let alone fucking insult you?

“You think I can’t hear the way you speak to my dad during your little “confessions”?” He takes a step forward as he whispers at you, air quoting the word confession with a roll of his eyes.. “You really think he’s just going to take you up on the offer?”

Narrowing your own eyes, you step closer to Jake to stop anyone else from hearing his little tantrum.

“Wanna tell me why he always listens to my “confessions” then?” You question back, mimicking the air quotes and smirking as you walk away from him, not even letting him answer.

Jake watches as you leave, upset that he didn’t get a rise out of you at all and instead was offered a genuine question that sits in his mind. Why does his father allow you to make a confession after confession if all it is, is an attempt to seduce him? You’re even ashamed of it, it seems, and it pisses him off to no end.

Rushing after you, he is quick to grab at your dress and pull you back.

“Might as well just show up naked with the way you act around here,” He starts with a bite in his tone, dragging you off, down the hall and into a side room that usually remains empty.

He intends to put a stop to this because he’s heard several more of your confessions by his own will and learns that, apparently, your only sin is being a fucking slut.

“You have no place here.” He adds as he closes the door behind the two of you. Unintentionally locking you into a space that he’s directly saying you don’t belong in.

“Acting like you don’t think about fucking. Hah. We both know I’m not the only one,” You laugh, walking across the room with a shrug. It’s not the first time you’ve been reprimanded in a church, and it probably won’t be the last. “Besides, your dad probably thinks about me late at night after tucking your grown ass into bed like a child.”

Jake narrows his eyes even more at you.

“Bet that pisses you off.”

“You’re ridiculous to think he would even want someone like you.” Jake scoffs harshly at you, gut bubbling with annoyance. “To think about sex this often too? I can’t imagine anyone would want to touch such a slut.”

You watch him walk towards you, with his perfectly tucked shirt and his darkened and angry eyes. Being alone with him doesn’t help his argument though because, in all fairness, he’s just as hot, if not hotter than his father.

“What about you then?” You ask, leaning against one of the shelves in the room, running your hand up your legs, and hiking your dress up a couple of inches.

“Your dad with his lingering eyes won’t admit to having ever touched a woman. Yet here you are.” You call out the priest’s lie with a snide chuckle before continuing. Fingers massaging your own fleshy thighs, watching the way Jake struggles with his own lingering eyes. “What about you? You ever fuck anyone?”

Jake grimaces, wrinkling his nose as he watches you.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He questions, stomping over to you and pushing your dress back down below your knees.

“Oh!” You laugh, ticking your tongue at him and tilting your head. “You said a bad word. Aren’t you going to ask for forgiveness?”

He stares at you for a few seconds, being face to face with a woman that seems so desperate for any touch has his heart racing. He’s trying to call you out, not turn you on.

“Can’t you act decent? I barely know you and you’re flaunting yourself at me.” Jake bellows, stumbling back from you and examining the way your body is relaxed.

You really seem to be enjoying this.

“You’re the one who pulled me in here. Was it really to argue with me, or were you trying to get to me before Father does?”

Thinking for a moment, Jake realizes he’s the reason this is happening. He could have just let you leave like everyone else, after all, you were attempting to go home. Here he is though, and there you are.

“He would never.” Jake laughs, mocking your attempts to pretend his father would be interested in you.

“And again, what about you?” You shoot back instantaneously, watching the way his words get caught in his throat.

He’s a weak man, truly, because the very thought of what’s under your dress, the very idea that you’re so willing, fogs his brain to the point of almost malfunctioning. It would be so fucking easy if he wanted to.

No one would even know.

Before you even know it, you can feel the air in the room change as he storms closer to you and rips your dress upwards to your waist. Instantly, he’s shoving his hand straight between your legs.

A small yelp leaves your throat followed by a laugh. Perfect.

“I knew it.” You giggle, bumping your head a bit against the shelf at the force of his movement. You can feel the way his palm cups your core and presses in harshly through his silent breaths. “I fucking knew you were dirty.”

“Stop,” Jake demands, bringing his other hand to cover your mouth. “Stop talking.” He continues, already pulling his hand from your core and second-guessing himself.

“If you want it so bad, I’m going to need you to shut the fuck up.”

You nod with a smile against his palm, breathing in when he pulls it back and trusts your ability to stay quiet. He’s staring directly into your eyes as if he’s threatening you. As if he will stop if you make a single peep. A promise that he will probably get you banned from the church if anyone were to find out what’s happening in this room right now. At his darkened gaze, you poke your tongue out, licking his palm and watching him pull back in aroused shock at how unashamed you are regarding your arousal. But, you do stay true to your work and remain quiet once his eyes trail down.

He looks at you as if you’re some sort of monstrous entity, and for him at this moment, you probably are. But even with that, you see what’s growing in his pants before he lowers himself onto the floor. Positioning his face right in front of your clothed pussy.

What a dirty, dirty boy.

Jake can see the wet stain of your panties and all he can do is roll his eyes.

“You’re insane.” He laughs, eyes darting up to your face, looking at you like he wants to shame you. “Getting so messy in such a place, all for men who don’t fucking want you?”

You nod, wiggling your hips at him in an attempt to entice his lips to attach there. But he doesn’t. He just stands right back up to his feet and takes a step backwards.

“I bet if I left you here, you’d chase after me.” He mocks. “I bet you think I’m gonna stick it in you, don’t you?”

Proudly, you smile with a nod. Of course he's going to stick it in. You can see how hard he’s gotten. Sin or not, you know when a man wants to fuck you. Jake won’t be able to resist sooner or later, son of the priest or not.

“Wow,” He laughs quietly, shaking his head at you as he reaches behind a podium and pulls out a large, lacquered wooden cross. “You really are stupid.”

Great, you think as your face falls. He’s definitely about to start preaching to you with that stupid fucking cross. Maybe he will even attempt to perform an exorcism to expel the horny demons out of you.

“Oh, please.” You roll your eyes, standing yourself up straight from against the shelf and patting your dress back down into position. “Don’t start this shit.” You’re already preparing to walk out without looking twice at him, but he laughs right back at you.

“You think you know everything.” He chuckles, walking towards the door and locking it. He stands in front of it now, crossing his arms and staring at you.

“Don’t I?” You ask, eyeing the way he presents himself to you right now.

“Did I not just imply that I wouldn’t use my cock on you?” He questions, twitching in his pants at the way you stand before him, much smaller in energy now.

He can tell you’re still trying to act brave, and it delights him to see the realization spread across that pretty, silent mouth.

Oh. Oh.

“You’re going to–?” You swallow hard, realizing that of all the sins you could commit, the implication of being penetrated with a cross, solely so this man doesn’t have to fuck a whore isn’t one you ever thought of.

This room doesn’t even feel like part of a church now as he holds the cross with more reason than praying.

“Yeah,” He assures you. “I am.” Stepping forward toward you and looming down at your face. “Now get on the desk.”

You don’t know why, but your body acts on instinct for him. Immediately walking to the desk and propping yourself onto it.

“Take off your clothes.” He demands again, watching you intently as he stays in place, rubbing the long end of the cross much like he’d like to do for himself right now.

God, watching such a stubborn woman do everything he says is…well, it’s new for him and it ignites a new type of arousal within him.

And you watch him back as you begin to slip your dress from your shoulders, lifting your ass so that you can push it down and onto the floor.

“Oh, now you wanna act shy?” He mocks, walking towards you as you attempt to tug at your panties. “And keep those on. No one wants to see that.”

Goddamn, you don’t even have the decency to wear a bra to service? Lucky for him though, your breasts are enough to drive him past the point of return. There’s no thought, fear, or prayer in his head right now as you reveal yourself to him. Going as far as trying to flash your pussy? Oh, he could laugh.

You stay quiet, doing as you’re told and watching the way he examines you. He must feel so in control right now and you’re happy to let him, but you can see him falling apart behind his eyes.

His cock is incredibly obvious beneath his nice dress pants, but you wouldn’t dare reach out to touch him, not yet at least. You’ll let him have his fun, despite the slight nervousness within you regarding that cross.

“Open your mouth.” He says, dragging the cross against your nipples and onto your chin. “Suck it.”

You almost shake your head at him. Such a hard wood sliding down your throat would surely hurt. It’ll bruise, it’ll fucking suffocate you.

Jake doesn’t seem to care about any of that though, because all he does in response to your widened and fear-stricken eyes is press the wood against your lips with a face of concentration.

You purse your lips, muffling a displeased grunt at his acts.

“You scared?” He smiles first, pulling the cross away and now tracing his fingers along your lips before prying them inside and hooking your mouth open. “Come on, don’t act like you don’t know how to suck.”

You relent this time, feeling the cold and smooth tip of the cross enter past your lips when he resumes his previous assault. It’s not that you are against doing it, you just…haven’t done it before.

You’re not exactly sure of how to respect a holy relic such as this one when you’re expected to choke on it.

“That’s it.” Jake coos, pressing the cross further into your mouth. “Open up real wide.”

You close your eyes at his voice, licking the smoothed object with an intensity you didn’t know you had. After all, it’s been so long since you’ve been intimate with a person, hence the constant wet dreams about your priest. This is somehow, incredibly hot to you. To have his son fucking your mouth, regardless of what object he’s using to do it.

Still, it does hurt. The intricate edges of the cross bruises each time it hits the clenching walls of your throat and mouth, but Jake seems to like the sound of you choking and sobbing around it. After all, he just continues to press the cross further and further in. Probably relishing in the way you try to swallow around it and relax your throat.

His eyes are so focused, seeing how much of it you can take and only imagining how good it would feel if it were his cock choking you right now. Despite your sputtering and crying eyes, you’re taking it so well.

Yeah, you’ve definitely done this before. Probably swallowed up some guy’s cum and begged for more despite still having a cock wedged in your throat. How lucky for them to have someone so desperate to be gagged.

“You’re filthy for doing this, you know that?” He laughs at your pain and how you don’t try to pull at his pushing hand, tipping the cross just a bit so that its hardened wood hits your throat in a way that hurts a bit too much.

You cough around it, only now pushing his hand back in protest. The tears are pouring from your eyes when the cross slides out of your mouth, and all you can do is blink up at him as you try to regain your breath.

Half expecting him to immediately hold your head in place just to shove the cross back in, Jake pulls back instead, tilting his head down to look at your panties.

Your legs instinctively cross to hide your arousal, but he prys your legs open regardless, forcing you to act as the whore you so wanted to be. For his father, for him, for anyone who would be willing, honestly.

You’ve gotten wetter.

“You’re so gross, I can’t believe you get off to this–” He laughs, feeling his cock begin to fucking ache. “You can take more, then.”

No, no. You don’t want to keep sucking it, but your mouth opens anyway. Too turned on by the idea of seeing Jake’s reaction to watching you be so dirty, so blasphemous.

The way he moans when you open your mouth willingly this time is…well, he looks fucking good. He sounds even better.

You take it into your mouth without so much as a second thought this time, allowing him to slide the cross back and forth against your tongue and into your throat. You willingly swallow around the harsh edges, tears falling all the while, of course.

You’re gagging so softly around it, he’s almost jealous over how you wanted his dad before you wanted him. Surely no one would do this for you, right? His father would never be with such a horny, needy, and dirty woman.

Jake though….shamefully, is very into it.

Into you, rather.

When he pulls it out this time, your saliva coats the cross in a way that nearly breaks his brain. Intensely, he stares at your lips, slack and waiting for him to continue his abuse. God, he’s so jealous. To think you would do this with someone else? With anyone? Anything?

It turns him on beyond belief, but feeling jealous of the fucking cross isn’t exactly something Jake wants to admit. His father? Sure, whatever. But a relic he’s prayed to his whole life? Growing resentful of it just because you take it down your pretty and bruised throat?

No.

Jake shifts now, unable to satiate the arousal within him without grabbing your hand and forcing you to grope his hidden cock. So hard, so fucking hard, he nearly lets out his own sob at the euphoric touch when he actually does it.

You’re a bit shocked that he’s letting you touch him, but you take the opportunity and run with it. You press your palm against him without any amount of shame, and all you can do is watch as he hangs his head, the saliva coated cross still gripped in his other hand.

“Bet you wanted to fuck my mouth.” You croak out, your voice sounding just as raw at your throat. “Bet you wanted me to take all of it and beg for your cum.”

His head shoots up in response to that as he grabs your face harshly, bucking against your hand at the same time. “Stop talking.” He seethes, releasing your face and inserting his fingers into your mouth instead. “Stick your tongue out.”

You do as he says, feeling his heavy cock twitching against your palm with each press.

Jake seems like an expert at this, you aren’t sure, but when he presses your tongue down with his fingers to open your throat up, he spits into your mouth so easily that you have no choice but to swallow it.

Well, okay. He could probably get away with doing that a few more times if he wanted to.

You moan when you swallow, lending him a dopey smile that shocks him. You weren’t supposed to like that in his eyes, but when you grab his cock in response rather than just palm at it, he can’t help but moan back at you.

His fingers continue to hold your tongue down as you jerk him off over his pants, and his hips stutter all the while until he loses all composure. Within a second, he stalks even closer, slamming both hands against the desk on either side of you and leaning forward to pin you there.

And then he grinds forward against your weak hand, pinned between him and the edge of the desk.

Yet still, he’s gripping that fucking cross as he pins you here.

“You want me to fuck you so bad, I can see it.” He croaks, not even allowing you to offer him a nod before he’s got his lips attached to yours and he’s licking into your mouth. It feels impossibly better than that cross pressing against the back of your throat but you swallow his kiss just as easily.

His hips continue to grind as he licks into your mouth like a man who doesn’t know how to kiss at all. So rough and messy with it, groaning more and more before he’s nearly a panting mess before you. He pulls back from the kiss only for a moment to stare at you, eye contact more fierce than it was before.

“I think you’re the one who wants to fuck me.” You manage to slip out before he can silence you again, and his eyes narrow instantly.

More than anything, that’s what he wants to do to you. He wants to shut you up in as many ways possible right now, and he definitely wants fucking you to be one of those ways. But he can’t, and he won't.

“Hah–you’d love that.” He laughs, reaching his empty hand between the two of you to press his pants down enough to let his cock spring free.

You can’t even get a good look at it, because he’s instantly grabbing himself and fucking his fist before looking back up at you.

“Go on, look.” He says, leaning a bit so that you can watch him jerk off in full view now. “Bet you’d beg for it if I told you to.”

“Please?” You instantly let out, eyes staring at the angry head of his cock leaking and pulsing.

“I didn’t say to actually beg–” He groans, halting his hand and instead, thrusting his hips into the tightly formed hole he’s created. “I’m not going to fuck you.” He laughs again, now pulling the cross back and into your view with a wicked smirk.

Of course. The cross. Well, at least you’re going to be fucked with something right?

You eye the piece of wood and then go back to watching him. You’re not sure what it is about this situation but it feels like your body is on fire. Maybe it’s because hell is right beneath you, just a floorboard away from what the two of you have gotten yourselves into behind this locked door.

“Oh?” He halts his hips and licks his lips. “You actually want me to fuck you with this?”

You nod frantically, spreading your legs in front of him and showing off how large the spot on your panties has grown since he last inspected it. You watch as his eyes practically burn a hole through your pussy.

Only then does he release his own cock and look back into your eyes. More seriously this time when reality and guilt clicks in his head.

“You are aware of what we are about to do, right?” His confidence falters blatantly as he glances at the cross. “Like, if you ever tell my dad about this, I will be disowned.”

“You think I’d snitch on you?” You roll your eyes, body nearly shaking to get fucked. God, why does he have to stop now?

“Well, since you’re so inclined to confess every fucking day–”

“Jake, you literally just fucked my throat with it.” You deadpan, hooking your legs around him to pull him close enough to feel his cock hit your wet panties. “You’re the dirtiest one here, I’m not going to give that up just to see you get disowned.”

He laughs at you for that. Because yeah, maybe he is. Maybe he’s the one who shouldn’t be in church, and maybe he’s the one who should have been confessing this whole time. Never in his life has he ever done this, or so much as imagined doing it, it’s so perverse. So, wrong. Unfortunately, that’s exactly what’s attractive about it.

For some reason, his cock jumps when you say you’re not giving him up because he’s dirty.

“And–” You soften your voice, trying to lure him. “You don’t have to use the cross, you know.”

“No.” He barks out, pulling his hips back and pressing the cross against you instead. “Now, keep your legs open.”

He gets right back into it without a second thought. He doesn’t care what he’s doing or what the repercussions of doing this will be. It’s not like he wasn’t going to hell before any of this, not based on the fantasies he’s had anyway.

Jake hooks his fingers into your panties and pulls them down your legs harshly, to the point that they’re stretching so far that it feels like they could cut through your skin. He backs away for a moment upon seeing you grimace at that, allowing you to slip them down your legs before positioning himself back between them.

“I’m dirty?” He says, looking at your pussy and the way it clenches around absolutely nothing. He sees the slick seeping out of you already, and it’s not only pathetic but so fucking desperate of you. “Fucking look at that.”

You smile at it, knowing that he’s degrading you but absolutely loving the view if his focused eyes are anything to go by.

Before the cross, he experimentally traces his fingers along your folds until he gets to your hole, and without hesitation, he slips one of them in. The grip of your walls alone could probably send him over the edge if he were to make a last-minute change and shove his cock into you, but he holds back. Instead, he traces the cross against you in the same way he did with his fingers, slowly inserting it alongside his digit.

Pulling back, Jake watches your face as the cross opens you up, probably dragging against your walls uncomfortably as a reminder of the ultimate sin you’re committing with him right now.

When your face doesn’t contort into that of pain, he pulls his finger out of you and places his hand back on his cock. Still staring at your face, he fucks the cross in and out of you. Relishing in the sound of how wet you are for this, and for him to give it to you.

He does this until, finally, you moan.

Upon that little whimper of a moan, Jake is sent into a different headspace. One that quickens his pace with the object inside of you, one that tightens the grip on himself.

Now, oh now, he’s playing for fun. He presses it in and then pulls it all the way out just to see your pussy beg for more. Holding back a moan over how fucking hot it is to see, he opts to coo out at you.

“Bet it would feel so good.” He breathes, trying to ignore the shiver that shoots through his body at the way you yearn for it. “Could shove my cock right in, you’d just take it, wouldn’t you?”

Before you can answer, he’s thrusting the relic right back into you. In, out, in, out. Deeper, harder, fucking faster. And he offers the same for himself, tightening his fist, nearly abusing his own cock at the sight of your swollen hole swallow up the wood. Really, he makes a point to fuck himself just to imagine it’s you that’s squeezing him.

If he thinks hard enough, it really is almost like he’s the one fucking you.

He keeps this up for a few minutes, up until your legs are shaking around him and you begin to reach out with your hands. If it weren’t for the fact that he’s incredibly fucking horny right now, he’d probably be rushing for the altar to save you from whatever demon is possessing you.

But, he knows that this is no demon, this is all his own doing. He’s loving it. Every single bit of this situation is being burned into his memory, and when your legs shake, it only urges him to fuck the object into you harder.

You whimper out strings of nonsense, almost begging for a release from this grasp he is holding over you both physically and mentally, but he doesn’t relent. Your pathetic cunt is being pounded by an object that should have you crying in fear, but instead, you’re so close to release you can only beg for more, more, fucking more.

And god, he keeps giving it to you.

In an attempt to open your eyes, you feel dizzy with lust. Your hips buck up against the object with intent, and you can’t stop watching him.

“Goddamn.” Jake stutters a sin, watching you fuck yourself against the holy relic. Thankful to rest his arm and be able to just…watch.

And oh, he’s watching and intensely imagining that it’s you on him. He can’t stop thinking about how fucking warm you must be, how tight, how sinfully delicious your pussy must be for you to be acting like this. And that thought is what forces him to lose it.

You were so focused, on the verge of your orgasm when you feel him practically tear the cross out of you, dropping it to the floor before – oh fuck.

You feel him. Something bigger, something thicker ramming into you. He’s prying you open more than he did previously, already pumping in and out at a frantic speed. Instantly, you cling onto him with a bruising grip, listening to his shameless moans as he realizes the lack of control he has over his own body or thoughts.

Jake practically falls over you in euphoria as you cling, forcing you to fall back against the desk as he relentlessly plunges his hips. His breath is heavy against your neck as he loses himself, and all you can do is thank the same god you just disrespected for this cock that’s abusing your hole in all of the right ways.

“I can’t–” He groans out against your ear, his hips not stopping their relentless assault. “You’re so fucking dirty.” He insults, pushing you up the desk with each thrust. “So good.”

You can barely make a sound from the force behind his hips, only small yelps leaving your throat each time he slams in. And fuck, you want nothing more than to rub your clit right now. You could cum all over him, you could really make him feel good.

And as if your prayers are answered, Jake apparently knows exactly how to pleasure a woman. Hm, curious. He knows how to do it fucking well too, as you feel his fingers rub against the swollen nub in the exact same way you would right now. Painful, intense.

The fact that he wants you to cum is delicious.

Your orgasm hits you almost instantly, pussy sucking in him each time he goes to thrust, and the sounds coming from your throat could be considered demonic by some, but he swallows them up with ease when he notes that you’re cumming all over him.

Jake licks into your mouth, soothing you with dirty words when he pulls back to breathe.

“You should see yourself–” He pants out, sticking his tongue out to lick against your lip. “Getting me all messy too?” He says again through a moan. “You’re beautiful.” He adds like a period at the end of a sentence.

That alone makes you feel…different. In fact, it prolongs your orgasm far past sensitivity when he continues to thrust into you. You can’t tell if he said that because he’s close, or if it’s because he meant it.

Quite frankly, you could give less of a fuck if he meant it.

Jake stutters his hips when you lift your head just slightly, gripping his hair and skewing his head to the side so that you can whisper into his ear.

“Want me to beg for your cum?” You whisper with a shaking voice. “You’d love that too, wouldn’t you? I know I would.”

His eyes squeeze shut as he aggressively turns his head and, once again, pries your mouth open with his tongue. A bruising kiss follows as he fucks his last few thrusts into you, doing just as you implied he should.

He pumps his cum into you relentlessly, thankful that it’s not all over his pants and entirely milked into that sinful cunt of yours. Thankful that you also got off around him instead of that forgotten cross on the floor.

He wants nothing more than to remind you time and time again who got to you first. It was him, not his father.

You smile at him when he pulls back out of breath, examining his pants before stuffing his sensitive cock back into them and reaching down for the cross.

“If you ever fucking tell my dad about this–” He seethes out of breath, trying to pretend that he can regain composure so soon after fucking you the way he just did. Still, he narrows his eyes at you much as he had done before.

“Go on.” You say, voice shaking as you try to grasp back onto reality from whatever world his cock had sent you into.

Jake is at a loss for words, because, what could he possibly do about it if you were to tell? He looks at you, still spread out against the desk, dress crumpled, his cum seeping out of you in a messy show of how much of an absolute whore he forced you to be.

“Just, don’t tell him.” He finally says, averting his eyes from you and looking at the cross in his hand.

“Do you feel bad already?” You ask out, finally lifting to get off of the desk.

“Don’t you?”

You shake your head, struggling to stand as the seething pain of having a wooden cross stuck into you shoots through your body. “Not really.” You try to laugh, but you wince instead.

“Yeah, I figured you’d probably be hurting after all of that.” He finally says in a somewhat apologetic tone, walking up to you with a soothing hand.

You’re a little shocked by his kindness.

“Yeah, a little.” You laugh it off though because, at the moment, it felt good. You wouldn’t have wanted it any other way despite how blasphemous the act was.

“Oh.” Jake seems sorrowful in his tone, but his gaze doesn't leave you. “I- um, I don’t know how to make it like, not hurt?” He scratches the back of his head.

In your attempt to put your dress back on, you do note that the pain inside of you isn’t unfamiliar. You’d been fucked hard before, but that was a long time ago. You missed this feeling, realizing that it was exactly what you think you needed.

“It’ll pass.” You assure him, taking a deep breath and trying to stumble your way to the door. “I guess I’ll see you later, then?”

Jake dips his head with a small nod, feeling guilty for what he’s done. Not because of the cross, not because of the sin, but because he’s unsure of how to pretend like he wouldn’t want to do it again.

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