#student inappropriate touch

[rightnewshindi]

शिक्षक की शर्मनाक हरकत: दलित छात्रा को कार में गलत तरीके से छुआ, POCSO एक्ट के तहत 5 साल की सजा

Hamirpur News: हिमाचल प्रदेश के हमीरपुर में एक शिक्षक की करतूत ने सबको चौंका दिया। एक नाबालिग छात्रा को अपनी कार में अनुचित तरीके से छूने के मामले में विशेष न्यायाधीश भुवनेश अवस्थी ने आरोपी शिक्षक को सजा सुनाई है। पॉक्सो ��क्ट की धारा 10 के तहत उसे 5 साल के कठोर कारावास और 20 हजार रुपये जुर्माने की सजा दी गई है। यह घटना 30 दिसंबर 2021 की है, जिसके बाद अब जाकर पीड़िता को इंसाफ मिला है। सजा का पूरा…

[tigresslanzhu]

After The Events Of The Diversion

Meena: [rubbing her toes from her too tight flats] Mr. Moon, if I wasn’t such a good girl, I would strangle you right now! That was very embarrassing!

Nooshy: Who says you can’t strangle someone once and still be a good girl?

Meena: My junior high principal.

A quick warning, if you are uncomfortable with the topic of woman being harassed in the workplace for one reason or another, you do not want to read this fanfic. It’s an issue I take seriously and I really wanted to highlight it a little here.

[saetoru]

AGE IS NOTHING BUT A NUMBER — GETO SUGURU.

kinktober day two — overstimulation ; find masterlist here

synopsis. befriending nanako and mimiko has its perks—like fucking their father, for example. suguru might have aged over the years, but that doesn't mean he's lost his touch. don't believe him? that's okay—he can always just show you instead

length. 5.3k words (bro this fic was agonizing)

contents. minors do not interact, fem! reader, dilf! suguru, college au (reader is a student), age gaps (20+ difference), jealous suguru, teasing, cunnilingus, fingering, edging, nipple play, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, creampie, pet names (baby, sweetheart, princess, angel)

notes. this took me so long bc i hate it so im posting it and running away to play genshin to slave away for primos

most people can tell their best friends everything. not you, though—you have a secret. a dirty, shameful, horrible little secret, in fact.

no one knows that every chance you get, every small little moment you can possibly squeeze in, you fuck your two best friends’ father—and it’s going to stay that way, unknown and forever hidden. suguru is young as far as parents go, just barely in his twenties when he’s found himself a single father of two, but that doesn’t mean he’s not too old for you. and it especially doesn’t mean that it’s not inappropriate to fuck the man that raised your two closest friends.

you meet nanako and mimiko during your freshman year of college—the rest is history. the first time you spend the night at their place, suguru (he insists you call him that on your first meeting) is overjoyed that his girls have someone as lovely as you.

who wouldn’t be? you’re smart, well-mannered, respectable, and incredibly studious. what a perfect role model for his girls—after all, every father’s worst nightmare is his sweet, precious daughters venturing off to the real world. men are dogs—suguru should know. they’re sleazy and prey on young women who are naive and unsuspecting, taking advantage of their hopefulness before completely destroying their innocence. suguru can’t bear the idea of his perfect little girls becoming victims of such sinister behavior—but that’s all quelled when he meets you.

but he never thought, not even for one second, that he’d become one of those men.

those older men who fuck girls half their age—the girls that are barely in their twenties and still don’t even really understand how taxes work. the girls that have just started to learn how to hold their alcohol and can only recently buy it legally. the girls who don’t realize how complicated adulthood can be, just barely spreading their wings and learning what it’s like to be free.

suguru has always found those men deplorable. they’re the awful, disgusting, untamed vermin of society—women must be protected from them at all costs.

but now? well….now he’s one of them—and he finds, even as disgusted with himself as he is from time to time, he has little regrets.

not when you’re sprawled under him, hands tracing over his bare chest, feeling the soft skin under your palms in wonder. suguru, though he’s not let himself go by any means, is past his prime—he still frequents the gym, and he has more time to go now that the girls are gone most of the day, but he’s not immune to the effects of aging.

his hair has more than a few strands of white sprinkled in now; nanako makes sure to remind him not to pull them out unless he wants more. he’s still managed to keep the abs he was once so proud of in his youth, but they’re still not as hard—layered over a slight belly that he can’t seem to get rid of no matter what he tries. his skin is a bit looser, and his eyes have slight wrinkles in the corners of them, but despite it all, suguru still looks as handsome as ever.

he’s aged well, still looks remarkably young for men his age, and still looks like that dashing young man he once was who stole hearts. in fact, he still hears about his looks, especially from nanako and mimiko’s friends—he’s always chuckled to himself and shook his head in amusement.

that’s your dad? god, he’s so hot.

what? he’s single? oh my gosh, do you need a mom?

i can’t believe he’s never been married—women in his generation don’t deserve him. i’ll take him off their hands.

wait, do you have pictures of him when he was younger?

oh my god, he’s so fine. are you sure he’s in his forties?

nanako and mimiko, bless their hearts, have always crinkled their noses at the…less than proper comments they’ve had to witness about their father. in fact, they’ve watched teachers practically throw themselves onto suguru at parent-teacher conferences. it’s bothersome—a little disturbing to hear their friends talk about all the things they’d let their dad, of all people, do to them.

but you? you don’t make unhinged comments. they appreciate that.

but if only they knew…

if only they knew that sometimes, like right now, when you’re spending the night, you don’t actually sleep—instead, you sneak off to their father’s room, lay on his mattress under his body, and feel his touch. you can feel him, hard and throbbing in his sweats as his clothed cock presses against your thigh—but he takes his time with you, and doesn’t do anything about the clear arousal pooling between your legs just yet. 

instead, he focuses on remembering your body—it’s been a while, after all. he hasn’t felt your hips, hasn’t tasted your skin, hasn’t heard your voice. 

“missed you,” suguru breathes, hovering over you as you hum, nipping at your skin as his nose brushes along your neck. your hand is playing with his hair, twisting long, black and white strands along your fingers. “haven’t seen you in a bit, angel.”

“i’ve had midterms,” you murmur.

suguru knows—nanako and mimiko have been studying for them themselves. he’s more than a little disappointed that you haven’t come over to study with them yet. but then, just the other night, mimiko mentions you’ve been spending your time with a boy at the library, sharing a table as you lean over his shoulder to look at his laptop. nanako giggles that you might have finally gotten yourself a boyfriend. mimiko hums and nods as she murmurs it’s about time.

suguru swallows down every bite of dinner with an aftertaste of bile that night.

a boy—a boy? you’ve been skipping coming over to study with the girls (and, by default, seeing him) just to study with some boy? what’s got your attention on the guy so badly? why would you break the routine you’ve had for the last few semesters for someone you just recently met? have you finally started to realize that this is a mistake? is suguru a mistake?

he thinks maybe not, now that you’re back in his bed—but he still has too many unanswered questions. 

“so i’ve heard,” he says lowly, “i’ve also heard there’s a certain boy on your radar.” he smiles bitterly, pulling away from your neck to stare at you with those dark, sharp eyes of his. “a much younger, and fitting match for you, i suppose.”

you roll your eyes, snorting.

“is that what nanako and mimiko have told you? honestly, those two,” you huff fondly, “i told them already. he’s just my partner for a presentation. we’re practicing.”

“oh?” suguru raises a brow—and then he shivers lightly when you lean up and kiss his jaw, eyes fluttering shut at your touch.

“yes,” you giggle, “no need to be jealous of someone half your age, you know.”

“that’s exactly why i’m jealous,” he breathes, leaning in to kiss you softly.

your lips taste like honey—probably sweeter, in fact. they drip with that decadent, saccharine taste of youth. he feels twenty again every time he kisses you, feels not a day older than his glory days.

“oh, you poor thing,” you grin, cupping his face as you scatter kisses along his cheeks and nose, thumb tracing the skin. fuck, is this what it feels like to be in love? it makes him feel so young, so free, and hopeful for the future. when was the last time he felt this way? “have you been losing sleep over my nonexistent college boyfriend?”

“well, kids your age fool around quite a bit,” he says in that father tone that he uses on nanako and mimiko, “what was i supposed to think?”

you’ve heard that tone so many times before; the one where he talks like he knows better, like he’s wiser, like he’s aware of something you’re not. 

girls, make sure you share your location with me—i need to find you in case anything happens. it’s for your own safety, end of discussion.

make sure you watch over your drinks, okay? men these days take every chance they get to spike them when you’re not looking. mimiko, i was your age once, too. i’ve seen this happen plenty.

don’t walk alone in the streets at night. call me. i’ll pick you up—no, nanako, it’s not lame. the streets are dangerous at night. there are creeps, you know.

don’t get into any boy’s cars, girls. you never know what’ll happen; one mistake is all it takes to ruin your life—hey, don’t roll your eyes at me. one day, you’ll understand i’m right.

“i’m not a kid,” you pout, and then, smugly this time, you wiggle your brows. “did’ya lose sleep over my imaginary boyfriend? you need plenty of sleep at your age, y’know.”

“no, you’re not a kid,” suguru agrees, “you’re a brat.” and then he’s back to pressing those hot, open-mouthed, hungry kisses along your jaw, humming in delight when you angle your head to give him better access. 

sometimes, it’s fun to get under suguru’s skin—it’s fun to break that carefully built, mature patience of his, pulling a twitch of his eye and a furrow of his brow from him. so, you grin widely as you murmur, “who knows? maybe he’d fuck better—more stamina, y’know?”

it’s supposed to just tease him, to make him glare at you unimpressed so you can giggle and kiss between his brows—but suguru stills at that, painfully stiff for a moment before he bites at your skin. hard. 

“oh yeah?” he hisses, his voice low and dangerous as he pulls away to glare down at you, “you think so? what, you think an old man like me can’t fuck you long enough?”

you don’t get a chance to reply—not before he pulls your pants down your waist to reveal your soaked panties, pulling a hum from him as he grins at the damp patch of fabric. his fingers circle over your clit for a moment, right over the cloth, making your breath hitch as you buck into his touch. 

“suguru—”

“look at that,” he chuckles, “wearing my favorite one, huh? can’t fuck you that bad if you try your best to impress me. isn’t that what you wanted? is that what you were thinking when you put these on before coming over? how precious,” he murmurs—he speaks so condescending, so knowingly, as if he’s read your mind just by looking at the red lace covering your dripping cunt. you cover your face in humiliation, but he grabs your wrists and pins them over your head, clicking his teeth in disapproval. 

part of you knows you should quit while you can—the other part? well…it wants to test the limits a bit longer. suguru has never been so easy to rile up, you want to indulge in it for just a bit longer if you can help it. 

“well,” you huff, “what’re you waiting for, then? don’t tell me the age has slowed you down—”

“you really don’t know when to quit, do you?” he says in a low snarl, “fine, you want me to hurry up? you got it, princess.”

it all happens before you can even register—one moment, you’re grinning at him with mischief in your eyes; the next second, he has you in nothing but your bra, bare in his bed as he pulls your legs apart and leans close to your pussy.

“you know the thing about guys your age,” he hums, toying with your clit lazily as you gasp with a twitch, “is that they really don’t know how to take care of anyone but themselves. guess they just don’t have enough experience to really figure it out.”

his lips latch onto your clit, sucking before he rolls his tongue over the sensitive bud as his fingers sink into your core, pushing past your folds and stretching you open. it’s slow—deliberately so, in fact. it makes your head spin, and your fingers curl into the bed sheets as you pant. 

“suguru, m-more—”

“don’t worry,” he coos, pulling away from you to grin up at your glossy eyes, “you’ll get plenty, baby. we’ll see if you’ve got the stamina. y’know, since you’re so young.”

his lips are back to wrap around your clit, fingers sinking and curling exactly where you’re most sensitive—suguru finds your sweet spots instantly the first time he has you sprawled under him. didn’t even take a moment of trial, just knew where to touch and kiss to have you unravel in his hold. that much still hasn’t changed—his fingertips press against the sensitive spot in the back of your walls, pulling pretty little whines from you as his tongue flicks over your clit. 

it’s always been a blessing that nanako and mimiko’s room is across the house—had they been closer, they might hear the mewl you let out as his fingers bully into you faster, unforgiving as they brush against your walls and build the ache up between your legs until it’s about to burst. 

“s-suguru, ‘m close, so, so close—”

“already?” he gasps, chuckling as he presses a kiss to your clit with a sly grin, “thought you had more in you than that, baby. so youthful—figured you’d last a bit longer.”

he’s mean about it—rubs it in your face some more that you’re so close so fast before he pulls his fingers away and doesn’t even give you the satisfaction of falling apart on his digits. it makes you sob, hips bucking up to chase the friction of his fingers, but he’s already gone, leaving your walls empty and fluttering around nothing.

“no,” your voice breaks, “n-no, so close, please. i want—”

“that’s what he would’ve done,” suguru hums, “pulled out before you even finished. that’s what guys your age always do—they don’t know how to make girls finish. you ever had that problem with me?”

“no,” you say quickly, shaking your head. you’re a pretty little thing, he thinks—pouty, wobbly lips and those glossy eyes as you sniffle. “no, you always make me cum—please, i wanna cum, sugu.”

“yeah?” he pouts with faux sympathy, “didn’t feel good, huh? feels better when i take care of you, doesn’t it?”

“uh huh,” you nod—you’re still panting through the aftershocks of having your orgasm ripped from you, chest rising and falling harsh enough that it fills him with pride he can pull such drastic reactions from you. no one knows your body like suguru—he’s too good at giving it what it wants for anyone else to compare. 

“think that boy—” he spits the last word like it’s poison on his tongue, “—can take care of you?”

“no,” you whimper, “no, he can’t. not like you, never like you.”

“that’s a good girl,” he nods approvingly, rubbing his slick-coated finger over your clit, toying with it teasingly as you writhe, whining for more. “you know something else about men your age? they don’t care to please a woman—don’t bother to appreciate them enough to make them feel good. you think that boy would be here—” he pauses to motion between your legs, where he’s currently situated, “—willingly? taste you willingly? let you cum on his tongue willingly?”

“i-i don’t…i never asked someone to—”

“did you ever ask me?” he interrupts, raising a brow at you, “you ever have to ask me? i just do it. wanna know why? because i know what i’m doing—know how to treat you right, how to give you what you need. isn’t that right?” 

“yes, yes—you always give me what i want—”

“what you need,” he corrects, “and you know what i think you need right now? this.”

his tongue licks a stripe along your entrances before you can say anything else, pulling a gasp out of you as your hands find his hair and tug—suguru groans at that, feels his pants get impossibly tighter as the aching erection he sports throbs between his legs at the way you pull at the strands so desperately, so needy. for him. only ever him. 

his tongue fucks into you, messy with the way he devours you, the slick arousal pooling from your cunt coating his lips, his cheeks, his chin. you moan—and really, it’s almost a squeal—when his fingers are sinking back into you, tongue flicking away at your clit mercilessly as he thrusts his digits in and out of your pussy. you’re close, painfully so, the pressure steadily building and building until you just can’t hold it back anymore. 

“sugu—’m c-cumming. god ‘s so good—feels good,” you babble, thighs closing around his head as his fingers curl into your sweet spot over and over again, not stopping for even a second as he helps you ride out your high. your walls spasm around his fingers, tight as they flutter around him and make him groan at the thought of being inside you. 

he watches, hungry and in awe, as your back arches off the mattress and your mouth parts, broken little wails of his name rolling off your tongue in a sweet melody. 

“i bet he’s never seen someone look like this,” suguru murmurs, watching the way the ecstasy takes over your features as your face falls slack from pleasure, “so pretty when falling apart. bet he’d never even get close to making you look so fucked from just his tongue.”

your orgasm ripples through you—it’s not new, the way he makes you feel so good, but it’s definitely nothing to get used to either. your body slumps back onto the mattress as you finish, panting harshly while he climbs up to hover over you once again. 

“that felt good?” he asks, nosing at your cheek as you nod breathlessly.

“yeah,” you breathe, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“hope you’re not tired out just yet,” he says smugly, eyeing the way sweat clings to your forehead and huffs of air exhale from your lungs with each labored breath, “because we’re nowhere near done, baby. not even close.”

just like that, your bra is unclasped and pulled off, freeing your tits for his mouth to latch onto a nipple, sucking and lightly grazing his teeth along the bud while his fingers tease at the other, pinching and rubbing over it with his thumb. you whine, eyes squeezing shut as your hand cups the back of his head and keeps him in place. 

“bet i could make you cum just from this,” he says with a laugh, “i don’t even need to fuck you.”

“please,” you dig your nails into his shoulder, moaning as he switches to wrap his lips around the other nipple, “please, sugu—n-need more.”

“be more specific,” he says lowly, looking up at you in amusement, “gonna need more than that, princess. you gotta help me out here—i’m afraid i don’t know what i’m doing.”

suguru is doing everything he can to drag this out—if you’d known one small comment would have him riled up like this…well, truthfully, you can’t say you wouldn’t have made it anyway. it’s exciting in its own right when he’s so determined to show you why you need him, why no one else but him is meant to see you like this, make you fall apart like this, have you sprawled under them like this. 

no one can know about you and suguru—not nanako and mimiko, not your other friends, not your family. you know what they’d say, how they’d feel. 

disgust—shame, even. he’s far too old for you, you know they’d say; he’s a red flag for getting with someone so young. no one can know that you come here, dead in the middle of the night when your friends are asleep, and fuck their father. not only that—lay with their father, talk about your hopes and dreams for the future with their father, giggle as you gossip with their father, fall in love with their father. 

something tells you the feeling is not unreciprocated—that suguru feels the same, that he loves holding you in his arms just as much as you love laying in them. maybe it wasn’t a joke, what you’d said. not to him, at least—maybe deep down, it stung; maybe he had something to prove. that boy might be closer to you in age, but he’ll never, ever treat you the way suguru does—no one will, for that matter. perhaps he has to show it so you really know. 

so you look him in the eye, pull him closer until his forehead is pressed against yours and you can press a delicate kiss to his lips before you murmur against them, “fuck me, suguru. please—need you.”

he groans at that, closes his eyes before his hips move to press the thick tip of his cock against your folds, dragging it along your entrance as he coats his head with your slick. it’s flushed a deep pink—it’s been neglected for so long that he shudders at the way it aches, at the way even the slightest friction along the sensitive tip pulls a soft gasp from him. 

for a moment, he wonders if he really will last long enough to fuck you properly—he might not, with the way your walls always squeeze around him, always have him ready to fuck his load into you just as soon as he’s inside you. the thought alone almost makes his cock twitch—but suguru is a man of patience, so he slowly pushes into you, inch by inch, looking down and watching as his girth disappears inside you. 

“look at that,” he coos, grinning wide as he looks back up at you, “took me so easily. ‘s cause when you do it right, it doesn’t take much, does it?”

“f-fuck—” your head presses back against the pillow, mouth hung open as you breathe heavily, trying to squirm and get even the slightest bit of friction from him as he stays painfully still. “move, suguru—please, c-can’t wait anymore. jus’ wanna feel you.”

“i know,” he chuckles, “patience is a virtue, sweetheart.”

despite it all, suguru is not feeling very patient anymore—it’s been long enough. his hips roll slowly at first, a shallow thrust of his hips that makes you both moan lowly before he all but pulls out and slams back in, hard. you can feel the burning stretch of his girth practically splitting you open, every thick vein dragging along your cunt and every brush of his tip against the back of your walls. it’s loud—the sound of skin slapping against skin, the sound of his deep groans and your breathless whines, the sound of the headboard hitting the wall as he fucks you into his mattress. 

“god—fuck, suguru—th-there,” you mewl as he slams into you right where you need him. 

you’ve lost count of how many times suguru has fucked you like you’re his. in his bed at night, in his shower in the mornings, on the couch when you drop by when the girls aren’t home, in his car that one time he drove you home when it rained, in your apartment that one time he dropped off your laptop because you forgot it. there’s one common denominator—the way he makes you feel, not just from the way his cock ruts into you, but from the way his fingers tangle with yours, from the way his mouth finds your jaw to kiss, from the way his forehead presses into your shoulder with warmth. 

it’s exciting, maybe. at first, it’s scandalous and a little thrilling in its own right. by now, it’s something much more than that—you don’t think anyone could make you feel the way he does, fuck you like he does, even if they tried. even if they knew where to touch and where to kiss. even if they knew what you liked and what you didn’t. 

they couldn’t be suguru—would never be suguru. 

“there, huh?” he pants, moaning softly as he feels your walls flutter around him tightly, “i know. i know how to fuck this pussy—my pussy. you think some boy you hardly know would know? think he’d care to learn? think he’d even try?”

“no,” you gasp, shaking your head as your hips buck up to meet his sharp thrusts, “no. no one would make me feel this good. make me feel so good, sugu.”

“ngh—sh-shit,” he hisses at your words, cock almost swelling harder at the way you praise him, at the way your words are almost slurred with no real thought behind him. it’s a little pride-inducing, the way you’re still able to sing his praises without having to really think about it first. he can hear it, the way you’re lost in the drag of his cock, drunk in the haze of pleasure, unfocused on everything else besides the way he bullies his thick girth into your abused cunt.

it’s a mess, it’s filthy the way there’s a mix of pre cum and your slick at the base of his cock, along your inner thighs, coating your skin as the squelching sound of him nudging past your folds fills the room.

it’s good, the way he makes you feel—he can hear it in your voice as you wail his name.

“s-suguru—oh.”

“what, you gettin’ all fucked out on me? ‘m not even close yet, princess,” he hums, leaning down to kiss your neck as he sucks softly into your sweet spot. you throw your head back, rasping out a cry of his name again as his balls slap against your ass with a harsh roll of his hips. 

and then his hand makes its way between your bodies, thumb attaching itself to your clit before rubbing punishing circles into the bundle of nerves—you sob at that, back arching up as your chest presses against his, nipples hard as they brush along his skin.

“s-sugu—close, ‘m gonna cum a-again—so close,” you pant brokenly, every sentence cut off with a sharp gasp as he thrusts into you. 

you’re close—you can’t fight back the way the coil in your belly snaps as he teases your clit. it’s still sensitive from the last orgasm, every nerve still burning up from before as he gives you more, gives you too much, almost. you cum harder this time—your second high creeping up on you when you least expect it. 

it makes your eyes roll back, makes your thighs quiver, and tears stream down your cheeks as you chant his name over and over. suguru, ‘s so good. suguru, ‘m cumming. suguru, ‘s all for you.

every sentence makes his cock drill into you faster, sloppier in rhythm, maybe, but faster. needier. bordering on desperate. 

“f-fuck, baby,” he grunts, “squeezin’ me so tight—such a tight fuckin’ cunt. you think just anyone deserves this? think you can just walk around and let anyone fuck this? ‘s bullshit—ngh.”

you don’t answer—can’t answer, in fact. it’s all teary eyes and soft sniffles as you mewl with every thrust, voice breaking between every pretty little sound you make. he’s still fucking into you, still dragging his cock against those sensitive walls, still bumping against your clit with his navel, still nudging against your sweet spot with his thick, swollen tip. it’s almost too much—it is too much, making you writhe under his body as you try to form the words. 

“‘s t-too much, sugu—c-can’t anymore,” you try, “can’t.”

“what?” he gasps, furrowing his brows in mock confusion, “you’re tappin’ out on me already? but ‘m not even done yet, sweetheart. haven’t even finished yet—don’t tell me you’re already spent. how will you keep up with your little boyfriend’s stamina if you can’t even take an old man like me?”

“c-can’t take anyone but you,” you sob, “jus’ you—only you. promise.”

“yeah? you swear?”

“uh huh. jus’ you, sugu—don’ want anyone else. won’t fuck me the same.”

“atta girl,” he coos, chuckling as he leans down to kiss your jaw, trailing soft pecks until he meets your lips, “that’s what i thought. make sure you don’t forget, okay?”

“fuck, suguru—’m…g-gonna…”

“gonna what? cum? you’re cumming again?” you nod at that—he grins wide, pride settling into the crinkles of his eyes before his thumb rubs harsh circles into your swollen clit once more. he looks pretty like that—hair framing his face, the mix of black and white strands sticking to the damp skin of his forehead. his skin is flushed, abs flexing as he pants over you. sometimes you feel guilty that half of why you come over to visit nanako and mimiko is to fuck suguru—the guilt is quickly extinguished when you see him like this, bottom lip caught between his teeth as his arms barely hold him over you, eyes shut tight as he groans. 

“i-i’m—fuck, fuck, fuck,” you can’t form sentences anymore as you cum—again. not that you really could before that, but now all you can offer is croaked half-syllables and shaky sobs. your walls squeeze around him, tight as they hug around his throbbing cock. 

it takes one, two, three more sloppy rolls of his hips before he lets out at a low, “baby, fuck—’m gonna fill you up. want that? want me to cum in you? make you mine? always been mine, haven’t you?”

“yes, yes—yours, sugu. yours, yours, yours,” you babble, words slurred between breathy moans and broken sobs. “wanna be yours.”

you can feel him—feel the way his cock twitches in you, the way he grinds into you to ride out his high, the way sticky, hot ropes of cum fill your walls, the way he fucks his load deeper into you with every sloppy thrust of his hips. his arms quiver as he holds himself over you—just barely, though. you can hear the way his voice cracks as he gasps your name over and over, as he mutters lowly about how you’re his, how you’ll always only be his. 

“mine,” he grits, “you’re fuckin’ mine—see how you’re suckin’ me in? see how i fit in this pussy like it was made for me? ‘s cause you’re mine.”

his body slumps onto yours as he finishes, head pressed into the crook of your neck as he kisses the skin while you both catch your breaths. you whimper, still sensitive, as he pulls out of you, a soft chuckle falling past his lips as he pulls his head up to look at you and press a kiss to your cheek. 

“so,” he starts, eyes laced with amusement as he takes in the fucked out look on your face, the tears still drying your cheeks, the swollen flush of your bottom lip, “still think you need someone with more stamina? someone who’ll fuck you better—”

“god,” you groan, slapping his shoulder, “will you drop it already? you got what you wanted, didn’t you?”

“no,” he murmurs, pecking your lips, “still wanna hear it some more.”

“your ego needs a reality check,” you huff as you brush a strand of hair from his forehead, “think i’ve fed it plenty all night.”

“actually, i think you crushed it,” he pouts theatrically, “talking about some asshole who doesn’t care about you right in front of me. after i take such good care of you, too. the girls already think you should date him,” he adds the last part with a slightly bitter roll of his eyes, pulling a giggle out of you.

“they think i don’t know how to talk to men,” you snort, “imagine they knew i was talking to men old enough to be my father.”

“hey,” he clicks his teeth, falling onto the mattress beside you—he pulls you into his chest, letting your cheek rest on his bare skin. it’s so wrong—lying in bed with the father of your best friends. but somehow, suguru feels like the only thing you’ve ever done right. “age is nothing but a number, sweetheart.”

if i have to see the word cock one more time im going to eradicate all humans that have them

do not comment about a part 2 !!!!!!!!!!

[lovekawaas]

mdni; nsfw content

college boyfr! toji is surprisingly a very patient man.

he has to be since he interacts with so many different students all day at the gym. inappropiriate attire? you need to leave the gym. inappropriate use of the equipment? sorry, you can't come back for a month. every request taken with a soft roll of his eyes and each accomplished with a long sigh. hell. maybe, he's not really all that patient.

still, toji tries his best to be.

especially with you.

but tonight, he's having a harder time with that. he's closing up the gym all alone after his two coworkers called out sick. you know this. so why in hell are you blowing up his phone right now after a grueling eight hour shift because you're horny.

at first, he thinks about letting it slide. he taps on your message and starts to type out his reply. but any patience he had left disappears entirely with the last text you send.

y/n <3: i'm gonna touch myself since you clearly won't

that does it for him.

he doesn't even bother replying. he simply shows up to your room to teach you a lesson. the lights are dim but the tension is thick. and five minutes later you end up on your knees, with a clump of your hair scrunched up in toji's fist as he fucks your throat.

he's rough and ruthless, taking out the stress of his long shift all on your mouth. gags and squelches fill the room as spit pools in the corner of your lips slowly dripping down your face. speeding up, using your hair to bob your head up and down before finally yanking you off and cumming on your face. you pout looking up at him at the fact that he wasted his seed.

but toji can only smirk back at you with the most devilish grin before he tells you "patience is a virtue doll".

his fat tip taps on your tongue again and that's how you know that you won't be getting much sleep tonight.

[leejenowrld]

in your eyes — part 1

word count — 34.5k words

genre — smut, fluff, angst

pairing — lee jeno x reader

part 1 — part 2

synopsis — campus life was just a series of fleeting connections until he found you. now, it’s you who he can’t forget, it’s you he wants to be known for, it’s you he wants to belong to.

chapter contents — explicit sexual content, rough sex, dirty talk, spanking, biting, breath play consensual choking, consensual slapping, orgasm denial/control, praise kink, dirty talk, oral sex (giving and receiving), fingering, very hard dom!jeno, sub!reader, consistent unprotected sex (be safe!), use of ‘baby’ and ‘good girl’, grinding, reader rides jeno, exhibitionism, intense emotional dynamics, strong language, and explicit content, explicit language, swearing, mention of drugs, smoking, alcohol, a lot of college party scenes, oc is uninterested in jeno at first but he changes that (and quickly!), mentions of fuckboy!jeno, initially fucks her roommate, but falls in love with yn’s stuff that’s around the apartment, himym!scene inspo, if you know you know, oc is a hot bassist in a band, jeno sees her play, gets hard and turned on seeing her play the strings with her fingers, imagines touching her, jeno and oc unexpectedly have the exact same matching tattoo, so many girl moments, kpop ‘00 liners, nct ‘00 line, sunwoo, eric, yeji and oc are in a band, inappropriate, mature humor, jeno is very forward, very confident, very daring, very self assured and dominant, arin causes a lot of trouble, jeno makes reader very shy and flustered, intimidating jeno, sweetheart jeno, emotional moments, appearance from nct foreign swagger line, jeno takes reader home, boyfriend jeno (kinda), watch as jeno and oc fall in love, jeno always touching reader under her skirt lmao, smut text portion, so much angst and pain, heartbreak

authors note — happy birthday lee jeno <3 i love you. please interact and leave an ask or message mwah. also there will be a part 2 to this, the last part, which will be out asap. it was all initially going to be one fic but it was too long and tumblr didn't allow it so i had to split it up. also thank you my bae @jenolala for helping me with ideas and being my personal reader i love you.

in your eyes masterlist

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Lee Jeno was the bane of your existence.

The University’s study lounge buzzes with the sound of students shuffling in their seats, flipping through textbooks, and tapping away on their laptops. But for you, the noise fades into the background as your thoughts are consumed by one person: Lee Jeno. He's become the bane of your existence, infiltrating your mind at every turn.

You try to focus on your studies, desperately attempting to absorb the intricacies of musical composition and sound design. But you can't do anything, you can’t focus on your assignments, eat, drink or work on your laptop without thinking of him. Every time you open your textbook, his face flashes before your eyes, distracting you from the task at hand. It's infuriating how effortlessly he invades your thoughts against your own will.

Nayoung’s infatuation with Jeno has reached insufferable levels ever since they started hooking up. It's all she ever talks about, as if he's some kind of God among men. But for you, he's just another distraction, a nuisance that refuses to leave you alone. Since they started hooking up, she's been relentless, unable to shut up about their sexual exploits. He couldn’t be that good…

Lee Jeno was the craze around campus, and he had always been. He was apparently good in bed, a phenomenal lover with a big cock, smart, hot, handsome, and knew how to fuck and treat a girl right. He was social and friendly, outgoing, and everyone knew who he was and everyone loved him. But not you though. For you, it’s all just noise. You’re simply not interested in him.

You try to tune out Nayoung’s incessant chatter, but her voice cuts through the air like a knife. "Shut up, shut up!" she exclaims, slapping your hands hastily and pulling you from your thoughts. You pout in frustration, resisting the urge to snap at her.

“I'm not even talking...” you mutter under your breath, huffing in exasperation as you shut your laptop screen down. It's futile to even attempt to get any work done with Jeno constantly looming in your mind, taunting you with his presence.

“He's here... He's here! Fuck, he's walking my way and staring at me,” Nayoung’s flustered words fill the air as she nervously adjusts her hair, throwing quick glances toward the entrance. You can't help but shake your head at her worry. There's no need for her to fret or make last-minute adjustments— Nayoung is effortlessly attractive, her beauty undeniable and her personality sweetly infectious. She has this casual, confident vibe that's undeniably sexy. It's clear why everyone seems to be wrapped around her little finger.

Then there's Lee Jeno, making his entrance as if it's the most natural thing in the world to draw every eye in the room. He walks with a confidence that borders on arrogance, an aura around him that's almost too intense. He seems to claim every space he steps into as his own, and today, the cafeteria turns into his domain.

He makes his way over and takes the seat right beside you, as if that spot had been waiting just for him. As he settles in, you find yourself involuntarily gulping a bit, suddenly all too aware of the intensity of his presence. It's undeniable, the aura he carries; a blend of confidence and an almost tangible allure fills the space, charging the air around you. The whole place falls into a hush, the kind of silence that screams of everyone's rapt attention on him, and inevitably, on you by association.

As you catch sight of Jeno turning his gaze towards Nayoung, your eyes roll almost instinctively. He reaches out, taking her hand with a gentleness that contradicts his commanding presence, his lips brushing against her skin in a soft kiss. Nayoung’s reaction is immediate; she gulps, visibly struggling to maintain composure, taken aback by the tenderness of his touch.

It's a moment that, despite your usual disinterest, makes you understand just a fraction of the allure that Lee Jeno carries with him. He's a presence that's hard to ignore, drawing you into his orbit whether you're willing or not.

“We still on for tonight, baby?” Jeno's voice sends a shiver down your spine, momentarily silencing the room. Nayoung is completely captivated by him, lost in her own world, unable to form a proper response. But when you nudge her foot with yours, she coughs and says,

“Yes, I'll be waiting for you.” Her voice is low and sultry, a hint of anticipation laced in her words. "In my bed, all alone, with no clothes on," she continues, biting her lip seductively as she tilts her head and winks at him. “I'll be yours to play with all night long.”Her gaze smolders with desire as she waits for his reaction, teasing him with the promise of what's to come.

Sitting beside you, Lee Jeno has the kind of presence that's impossible to ignore. From what you've heard, the stories that swirl around campus, he's the quintessential heartbreaker - popular, with an air of cockiness that he wears as comfortably as the clothes on his back. He’s dressed casually today, yet every piece seems carefully chosen to accentuate his athletic build—a testament to his dedication as a football player. His fitted t-shirt clings in all the right places, paired with jeans that manage to be both casual and unmistakably deliberate in their fit. His hair, a perfect shade that catches the light, is styled in a seemingly effortless manner, falling just so to frame his striking features.

Jeno’s face is a canvas of attractive contrasts; sharp jawlines meet soft, inviting lips, and his eyes, deep and expressive, hold a hint of mischief. There’s a natural symmetry to his features that’s compelling, drawing you in despite any reservations. The easy smirk that often plays across his lips suggests a man who knows his allure and isn’t afraid to use it to his advantage.

But it's not just his looks that have earned him his reputation. He's known to be overconfident. His charm is scandalous, wielded with the precision of someone who knows just how impactful they are. He's the epitome of a fuckboy, leaving a trail of whispers and rumors in his wake.

Yet, despite the warnings, the stories of hearts left in his path, there's something undeniably captivating about him. He's social, able to navigate any conversation with ease, drawing people in with a magnetism that's hard to resist. And fucking handsome? Absolutely. There's a reason every glance he throws seems to linger, every smile feels like it's meant just for the receiver. It's this mix of danger and allure that makes him an enigma.

Your thoughts are abruptly interrupted when you catch Jeno and Nayoung exchanging glances so intense, they could only be described as eye fucking. And you're almost certain he's touching her under the table. Casting a discreet glance their way, disbelief washes over you. Their boldness in such a public setting is startling—where's the sense of privacy, the modesty? It's a display that leaves you questioning the very notions of discretion and boundaries in social interactions.

You assumed your silent judgment would go unnoticed, as usual. Being invisible had its perks; it let you navigate these social seas undisturbed, a mode of survival that had become your comfort zone. Yet, just as you side-eye the intimate display between Jeno and Nayoung, Donghyuck catches your gaze. With a wink, he throws a comment your way, "Don't feel left out, I'll fuck you," assuming a familiarity that you've never invited.

Your response is immediate and flat, "Shut up," hoping to quash the conversation then and there with your deadpan delivery.

But then Renjun chimes in, laughter barely concealed in his voice, "Dude, she's not gonna fuck you, that's the girl who's waiting until marriage."

At Renjun's words, a familiar rumor audible for all to hear, you can't help but roll your eyes. It's not the first time your “personal choices” became the focus of campus gossip, yet it never gets easier to hear it discussed so openly.

In that moment, Jeno's gaze locks with yours, a brief encounter that feels like an eternity. His eyes, sharp and probing, offer no hint of his thoughts, leaving you floundering in their depths. The intensity of his stare is unexpectedly captivating, sending a jolt of weakness through you that's both unsettling and embarrassingly thrilling. Despite the rumors and the situation, you're forced to admit—Jeno is undeniably hot.

But just as quickly as the moment arrives, it passes. Jeno breaks the eye contact, returning to his own world with an ease that suggests he's completely unfazed by Renjun's comment. This reaction, or lack thereof, catches you off guard. You had braced yourself for a tease or a quip, something to match Donghyuck and Renjun's playful torment. Yet, Jeno's disinterest and quick dismissal of the conversation leave you in a curious mix of relief and disappointment.

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One day you’re gonna cut Lee Jeno’s cock off.

There’s no way he can make a girl scream that loud.

The frustration builds within you as you sit in your room, once again failing to focus on studying the musical compositions you need to know by tomorrow. And who’s to blame? Lee Jeno, of course. It’s the second time today his fucking with Nayoung has derailed your concentration. Normally, living with her is a joy; she’s your best friend, your better half. But in moments like these, you wish you could live alone, away from the constant distractions of her sex life.

She gets laid a lot, it’s a regular occurrence in your shared apartment. She’s louder than she normally is tonight, her moans and screams echoing through the walls without a hint of restraint. You try to drown out the noise, burying your head in your textbooks, but it's futile. You can't focus, your mind consumed by thoughts of Jeno and his cock.

(Unfortunately)

Eventually, the noise subsides, and you cautiously step out of your room, relieved that Jeno seems to have finally left. But as you round the corner, a low, deep voice sends a shiver down your spine, and you freeze in your tracks. He's still here.

Panic sets in as you realise how you're practically walking around naked in an oversized top and short shorts, no bra to conceal your exposed skin. You curse under your breath, desperate to escape to the safety of your room, but you know he'll see and hear you if you make a move now.

With no other option, you dart behind the sofa, thankful for its strategic placement that shields you from his view. Heart racing, you hold your breath, praying he doesn't notice you hiding just a few feet away.

Unbeknownst to you, Jeno's attention isn't on Nayoung; he wouldn't have recognized your presence even if you made noise. You're pretty sure Nayoung doesn't realize you're here either. Jeno is shirtless, basking in the afterglow of sex, but his focus isn't on Nayoung; he's not even looking at her.

The moment he entered the house for the first time, Jeno became enamored. It felt as though he was right where he was supposed to be. His eyes lit up with surprise and thrill as he noticed certain things and items that caught his attention—things he found cool and eye-catching. Despite never having been in this house before, it felt like he was exactly where he was meant to be.

His eyes sparkled with a light that you should've seen, a light that no other girl had brought to him before. "How did you get this?" he asks Nayoung in awe, marveling at a rare Lego set.

"I didn't. It's my roommate's," she replies, her features showing amusement and disinterest. You had so many nerdy and niche things lying around, and Nayoung found none of them interesting.

Jeno spots a rare album, one he's never seen anyone have before. "This is really cool. I didn't know you were into—"

"Yeah, that's also my roommate's," Nayoung interrupts.

Jeno shakes his head in amusement, his eyes landing on a book, ‘Normal People' by Sally Rooney. "What about this?”

"A birthday gift from my roommate. I haven't checked it out yet," Nayoung replies.

"Oh, you should. It's really cool," Jeno says, scratching his head. He's about to apologise, realising he's delving too much into your personal space. But then his eyes land on a bass guitar and the apology fails to slip from his tongue. "Do you play bass? I always say that my ideal woman—" Jeno catches himself, sighing as he realises Nayoung silence. "—does not play bass, because this is clearly your roommate's."

"She's in a band," Nayoung says simply.

"Damn, that's cool," Jeno whispers. "What's she like?"

You gulp nervously, wondering why Lee Jeno wants to know about you. You’re not used to the feeling of someone being interested in you, you’re not used to someone wanting to find out more and uncover you. It's incredibly foreign and unfamiliar.

“She's in the matrix, she's a whore," Nayoung says, and you open your mouth in shock. What the fuck? No, you were not!

Jeno chuckles, and you realise Nayoung was just joking. Her next words warm your heart. "She's the best person I've ever met. She's really chill and calm, sweet to everyone, and fair. She has a really good heart. She's different from everyone we see on campus, different in a good way. She's a bit of a nerd; her main worries in life are how to get the next rare Lego set or make sure she has enough time to balance being in her band, acing her major, and doing all that volunteering and extracurricular crap. She's a breath of fresh air."

Nayoung shakes her head with a dry chuckle. "This is unbelievable. You just picked out all the things in here that belong to my roommate. You didn't even spare a glance at the stuff that's mine.”

Yeah, because they're not interesting, Jeno thinks.

Nayoung eyes all of your possessions and shakes her head. She turns to Jeno. "It's really weird stuff, and I'm really shocked you find it interesting. I didn't expect it from you. I've never seen someone as interested in it... other than you and my roommate."

“My roommate is into pretty weird stuff. She does these weird paintings of robots playing sports.”

Jeno scratches his neck and nods. “Yeah, that’s weird…” (He thought it sounded pretty cool).

“She also has this crazy habit of making breakfast food sing show tunes, I mean, it’s not that annoying because she’s an amazing singer, she’s in a band so I’ll give that to her.”

"So does your roommate's band ever play shows or...?" Jeno asks.

"Get out," Nayoung bluntly says, pointing her arm towards the door.

Nayoung sighs; this always happens. Nayoung had a roommate complex. Unbeknownst to you, guys always dug her roommate, you. Only you would never know the full extent or seriousness of this, as you would never return the affection or interest. You were robotic, denying all forms of affection, so nothing ever came from guys wanting to fuck you. Paired with the rumor that you were strictly Christian and waiting until marriage to fuck, yeah, you weren’t going to get laid anytime soon.

She takes a seat on the sofa and nearly jumps when she sees you sleeping there soundly. She didn’t know that you staged this; you knew she’d come to the couch after Jeno left, so you had to pretend you were sleeping. You couldn’t let Nayoung or Jeno know that you had heard and witnessed that entire interaction. She smiles at you and covers you in the blankets fully, readjusting your head and dimming the lights. She wasn’t surprised that you drew attention without trying to or even knowing that people were into you.

She did have a really fucking cool roommate.

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The next morning, Nayoung looks sad, her shoulders slumped as she sits at the kitchen table, picking at her breakfast. You take in her demeanor, noting the furrow in her brow and the downturn of her lips. You have to put your acting skills to use, masking the knowledge of why she's upset with a concerned expression. You go to her immediately, your voice filled with worry, "What's wrong? Did he? I'm gonna kill him—"

Nayoung huffs softly, a mix of frustration and resignation in her breath. "We're gonna stop seeing each other," she explains, her voice tinged with sadness.

Your eyes widen in surprise, and you're about to throw hands but she shakes her head and tells you to calm down, making ‘no’ motions, a small smile playing at her lips. She shakes her head and chuckles softly, "No, he did nothing wrong. I'm not gonna miss him. I know this was just sex, but god, he's really attractive and has a good personality. I'm not getting caught up, but wow, I just feel overwhelmed and intense. How can someone be such an attractive and hot person and know how to use his cock?"

You're at a loss for words, your voice catching in your throat as you struggle to find the right response. You were awkward when it came to emotional conversations, you didn’t know how to comfort someone! One to one intimate moments like this overwhelmed you. However, Nayoung drops a bomb that leaves you speechless and stunned.

"And he likes you."

You choke on your own breath, your eyes widening in disbelief as you shake your head vehemently. "Me? What? That’s absolutely ridiculous, Nayoung, no he doesn’t! He doesn’t even know who I am."

Inner turmoil consumes you as conflicting thoughts swirl in your mind. How could someone like Jeno possibly be interested in you? You've never exchanged a single word, never shared a moment beyond fleeting glances in passing. Logically, it doesn't add up; you're strangers. He revels in the chaos of getting high and fucking, while you find solace in quiet evenings, lost in the intricate world of LEGO creations and the soothing melody of your bass guitar. It's inconceivable that someone like him could find anything remotely intriguing in someone like you.

"I'm telling you. He likes you. It's true! He pointed out every single thing in the living room that was yours. He likes all the things you do. He's a nerd like you."

Your voice cracks with disbelief, your hands gesturing in denial as you try to process Nayoung's words. "Lee Jeno? Nerd? He's far from... he's a fuckboy with no heart, he's popular and parties like there's no tomorrow, he smokes and does drugs and—"

"Y/N! You know better than to stereotype. Yes, he does party, is popular, and loves fucking, but he's more than that. He's obviously more than that, and it's not like he hides it. You're only seeing what you want to see. The image you have of him in your head is an image that is surface level. He's actually a good guy, he doesn’t think of himself as above people, and he's chill and kind. He aces exams, and he knows about all the rare little Legos like you do, so he’s clearly a nerd!"

You sigh heavily, feeling a mix of frustration and realization wash over you. Nayoung was right. You were only seeing what you wanted to see. Your idea of him was so fixed and stubborn that you refused to look deeper, beyond the surface.

"It’s like you, Y/N. People only see you as that nerdy, quiet loner who doesn’t talk to anyone and doesn’t drink or party. People think you’re weird—"

"Gee, thanks a lot," you cut off Nayoung's words, sarcastically thanking her for her honesty.

"But I know that you’re way more than that! You’ve got so many cute little side interests! It all adds to your personality and it’s all important. It shouldn’t be overlooked. It makes you who you are. Not only are you a med student, but you’re also in a fucking band! You’re the bassist! It’s fucking hot and cool, Y/N. Lee Jeno even asked for the name of your band."

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What you knew about Lee Jeno’s cock was against your own will.

Nayoung’s words echo in your mind, each syllable sending a jolt of heat straight to your core. "Jeno’s literally so good at dirty talk," she continues, her voice dripping with excitement. "He knows exactly how to please a woman. He doesn’t just stick his dick in and out. He actually has superb technique."

You breathe heavily, shutting your laptop once and for all. "If you and Jeno have stopped seeing each other then why are you telling me this?" you interrupt, unable to conceal the frustration in your voice. Nayoung and Eunji exchange a glance, their eyes twinkling mischievously as they exchange silent communication. It's like they're speaking a language that only they understand, leaving you feeling increasingly left out and confused.

They'd been giving each other these secretive glances for the past week, making you desperately wish you could tap into whatever little secret they were keeping. Yet, whenever you brought it up, they simply shifted the topic.

"You guys are seriously starting to annoy me," you finally snap, unable to contain your frustration any longer. "Can you just tell me whatever the fuck it is you’re thinking about?" You're met with a knowing smirk from both Nayoung and Eunji, their lips quirking into sly smiles as they continue to exchange secretive glances.

Nayoung leans in closer, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper as she continues to regale you with tales of Jeno’s abilities in the bedroom. "You know, Jeno’s not just about the physical stuff," she says cryptically, her gaze flickering with something you can’t quite decipher.

Eunji nods in agreement, her lips quirking into a sly smile as she adds, "He’s got this way of making you feel like you’re the only woman in the world when he’s with you. Once he went down on me and I couldn’t walk for days."

Your eyes widen in surprise at Eunji’s revelation, feeling a mix of shock and arousal coursing through you. "When did you fuck him?" you blurt out, unable to conceal your curiosity.

She just laughs, shaking her head as she brushes off your question with ease. "We’ve casually fucked from time to time," she says nonchalantly. "It’s not that shocking, Y/N. His body count is high, after he broke up with Arin, his cock has been unstoppable."

You huff in disbelief. "Who has he not fucked?" you mutter under your breath, your mind reeling with thoughts of Jeno's sexual conquests.

"You," Nayoung and Eunji say simultaneously, their words hitting you like a ton of bricks. Silence falls over you as you process their words, feeling a strange mix of shock and excitement swirling inside you.

“Do not go all ‘Joe Goldberg’ on me!”

"What is that even supposed to mean?" you stammer, feeling a sense of unease creeping over you at their cryptic words.

Nayoung just smirks. “Nothing. I’m just telling you how good he is in bed.” You had a feeling she was lying. She had her reasons and motives, ones you were far from understanding.

"And why is that of use to me?" you question, expecting an answer. You turn to Sunwoo when you’re met with silence from the girls.

"Sunwoo, help me," you nudge him from beside you, knowing you could trust your closest and oldest friend.

You sigh in relief when he turns to the two girls. “Leave her alone, this Jeno thing is ridiculous, he’s way out of her league.” His words bring you peace and you rest your head against his shoulder, taking a deep breath.

“I’m sorry, I love you, Y/N, but no one is out of Jeno’s league. If anything, it’s the other way around,” Nayoung retorts.

“Thanks a lot,” you snort.

“It’s not just you, everyone is out of his league,” Eunji clarifies.

“I’m not,” Sunwoo says dryly.

“You shut up!” Eunji points an accusing finger at Sunwoo. “I know you have protective, brotherly tendencies when it comes to Y/N, but you have to admit… our girl needs cock!”

He turns to you, a knowing smirk that only the two of you will understand. “You do really need to get laid though,” he says in a low voice.

Nayoung goes back to praising Jeno for his sexual abilities. “And let me tell you, his dirty talk is next level,”

A devilish grin spreads across Eunji’s face as she shares a smirk with Nayoung, recalling one of her past encounters with Jeno. “I’ve never had sex with someone who has such good timing and pace,” she confesses. "He knows exactly what to do with his cock, hands, and lips, and where to do it."

"He’s not just in it for himself, you know," Eunji adds, her tone serious as she looks you straight in the eye. "He genuinely cares about his partner’s pleasure. He’s the perfect person to experience all of your firsts with."

"Hey!" you exclaim, feeling a surge of indignation rising up inside you. "This feels very targeted and personal," you accuse, your voice cracking with frustration. "Where is this coming from?"

You had never spoken a word to Lee Jeno in your life. Sure, you noticed that he seemed to take an interest in your belongings around the apartment, but that wasn't enough to warrant Nayoung and Eunji sudden push to get you interested in him. It all felt too orchestrated, too deliberate, and you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to their agenda than they were letting on. Despite their efforts to convince you otherwise, you remained skeptical about the idea of getting involved with someone like Jeno, especially considering your vastly different personalities and lifestyles.

"I'm not saying you have to jump into bed with him right away," Nayoung says, her voice softening with sincerity. "But maybe give him a chance. You might be surprised. I know what you're gonna say, 'He's the Lee Jeno, campus fuckboy and resident player, we're in completely different leagues and scenes, and we'll never get along.'" Nayoung mimics your voice, and you narrow your eyes.

"I sound nothing like that!" you frown, realizing you sounded exactly like that.

"Just think about it, Y/N," Nayoung says, her voice tinged with excitement.

"I'm not gonna think about it, my mind is gonna be on the gig I have tonight. You guys better be there!" you declare.

Nayoung's response comes with a gleam in her eye, a spark of something mischievous lurking beneath her casual assurance. "Oh, we wouldn't miss it for the world," she says, her glance sliding over to Eunji as they share a knowing look. They wink at each other, sealing a silent pact, the first stage of their mission to bring you and Jeno closer is already in motion.

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Jeno received a text from Nayoung, inviting him to meet for some drinks at the bar. The anticipation of a night filled with pleasure courses through his veins, driving him to accept the invitation without hesitation.

He goes because he anticipates getting laid. Jeno enjoyed the sex with Nayoung, as he did with any other girl. He had an insatiable appetite for sex, and he never shied away from indulging in it. However, he was always respectful and mindful of boundaries. His partners knew that he was only seeking physical satisfaction, and he made sure they felt just as much pleasure as they gave him.

It didn’t matter to him if Nayoung's personality didn’t align with his; he was solely focused on fulfilling his carnal desires. Feeling sexually frustrated, Jeno eagerly heads to the bar, eager to find release in Nayoung's company.

Jeno's steps quicken as he approaches the bar, the dim lights and pulsing music heightening his senses. He craves the distraction, the temporary oblivion that comes with losing himself in the warmth of another body. And so, with a determined stride, he pushes open the door.

As Jeno strides into the dimly lit bar, the air heavy with the scent of alcohol and anticipation, he feels a rush of excitement course through him. Dressed in a sleek leather jacket that hugs his form, he exudes an air of rugged charm and allure as he scans the room, his eyes alight with anticipation.

The bar is cast in shadows, a dimly lit sanctuary with a retro flair that gives it an air of timeless charm. Neon signs flicker softly against the dark walls, casting a warm, inviting glow over the eclectic mix of patrons. The atmosphere is a blend of nostalgia and mystery, each corner telling a story, each shadow holding a secret. Vinyl records adorn one wall, a nod to the classics, while the low hum of conversation and the clink of glasses provide a steady soundtrack to the night.

A familiar tingle zips through him, it’s an echo of the sensation he felt that first time he crossed the threshold into your apartment, a sense of rightness, of being exactly where he’s supposed to be.

Something shifts inside him. The retro vibe, combined with the sultry air, sets a scene that's both familiar and charged with new energy. Shadows dance across the walls, and the music's pulse syncs with his own heartbeat, signaling a night of unexpected turns.

Amidst the noise and the crowd, Jeno spots Nayoung. She's there, laughing, surrounded by friends, exactly where he should want to be. But he doesn’t move towards her. Instead, there's a compelling force, a curiosity leading him elsewhere, towards something—or someone—he hadn't anticipated.

It’s you.

Amongst the faces, yours catches his gaze like a lighthouse in the fog. It's inexplicable, this sudden redirection of his night, his desires. Something inside him has decided, without a word, that the night was never really about Nayoung. It was about discovering what he didn't even know he was looking for—until now.

Perched on the stage, bathed in the soft glow of the neon lights, you exude a magnetic energy that draws him in like a match to its flame. You were breathtaking. Dressed in a mini skirt that accentuates every curve of your ass and thighs, paired with a top that leaves little to the imagination, you radiate confidence and sensuality that leaves Jeno spellbound.

For a moment, time seems to stand still as Jeno’s gaze locks with yours, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of you. In that instant, he feels a surge of desire unlike anything he’s ever experienced. Who were you? He was sure that you were one of the students at the college, he was sure he had seen you before. He’s just shocked that this is the first time he’s recognising how hot you are.

In that fleeting moment, as Jeno's eyes meet yours, time itself seems to pause, the air charged with an electric tension. His gaze, intense and unyielding, speaks of a yearning that goes beyond mere attraction, hinting at depths of desire that are raw and untamed. As your smile fades, replaced by a questioning frown, the atmosphere thickens with unspoken possibilities, a palpable sense of what could be.

The sudden break in your smile sends a pang through Jeno, a silent plea for the connection not to sever. The eye contact between you is a live wire, sparking with the potential to ignite. Amidst the crowd, amidst the noise, there's a silent conversation happening, a dance of glances that speaks volumes.

Your mind races with questions. Why was Lee Jeno here? He was the campus heartbreak and residential fuckboy, the last person you’d expect to see you play. You always assumed no one ever found you interesting so why does his interest seem to settle on you tonight? His reputation precedes him, yet here he is, looking at you with an intensity that suggests a desire for something more profound than his usual pursuits.

You weren't naive, why was he looking at you like he wanted you? Like he wanted to fuck you. Why now? His gaze, laden with an unmistakable intensity, seeks to pierce through the layers, to see beyond the facade everyone else sees.

Your band commands the space. The rhythm is captivating, a vibrant blend of guitar riffs and drum beats that fills the room with an infectious energy. You're on the bass, and it's clear this is a passion. The bass itself is a striking piece, its sleek, polished wood and the smooth curves of its body reflecting the stage lights.

As Jeno watches, he can't help but marvel at the skill in your fingers. The way they dance and glide over the strings, with precision and a sort of grace that's both powerful and delicate, stirs something unexpected in him. His gaze fixates on your hands, fingers moving in perfect harmony with the music, and a primal desire ignites within him.

The thought of those talented fingers exploring your own body, tracing every curve and fold, sends a shiver of anticipation down his spine. He imagines the sensation of your touch, firm yet gentle. Lost in the moment, Jeno feels a surge of arousal building within him, his breath hitching as he envisions your fingers delving deeper.

What fucks him up even more is when you smile at him, such an innocent smile that makes his chest tighten with an unexpected surge of desire. It's a smile that lights up your entire face, eyes sparkling with warmth and sincerity, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through Jeno's veins.

As you lock eyes with him and smile, Jeno feels as though the air has been knocked out of his lungs. You look breathtaking, radiant in the soft glow of the stage lights, your beauty almost otherworldly in its intensity. Every curve and contour of your features seems to be highlighted.

You had no idea what he was thinking, so oblivious to the effect you had on him. It was maddening how effortlessly captivating you were, how your mere presence could stir such intense longing within him.

He knows this is wrong, that he shouldn’t be thinking these thoughts, shouldn’t be so turned on by you. Desperately trying to regain control of his thoughts, Jeno attempts to focus on the other members of the band. They exude coolness, lost in the music and their own world. But for all their visual appeal, none of them compare to you.

In that moment, Jeno finds himself singularly captivated by you, unable to tear his gaze away as he succumbs to the intoxicating allure of your presence.

He’s not the only one. The energy of the room has shifted, centering on your presence on stage. It's palpable, the way you've drawn every eye towards you. You're undeniably magnetic, a fact made evident by the sea of faces turned in your direction, yet what truly fascinates Jeno, what truly fucks his mind, is your obliviousness to the effect you're having. You’re just lost in the music, not looking for any approval or basking in the spotlight. This contrast, between how much you stand out and your indifference to it, really catches him.

Though he can't hear your laugh over the music, he sees the way your shoulders shake, the brightness in your eyes, and he knows—it's a sound he wants to discover, to keep. A smile, unbidden, spreads across his face, mirroring the joy he sees in you. It's a strange, fluttery feeling that takes residence in his chest, a sensation both foreign and exhilarating.

Nayoung makes her way through the crowd to him, a knowing smile playing on her lips. She leans in close, her fingers tracing a daring path down his back and over his thighs. Her touch, bold and teasing, makes his heart skip a beat. "You wish that was Y/N touching you, right?" she whispers, her voice a blend of mischief and suggestion.

Turning to face her, Jeno's eyes darken, a smoulder of intensity burning within them as he contemplated her words. "Y/N?" The name, unfamiliar and yet suddenly significant, rolls off his tongue.

Nayoung's nod is all the confirmation he needs. "Yeah, she's the one. She's my roommate," she reveals, each word painting a clearer picture in his mind.

"I'm off to Eunji’s house, but you're staying here, right? Y/N normally walks home from the bar. Maybe you could offer to walk her, maybe keep her company. Our apartment is going to be empty… use your imagination." With a final wink, she slips away.

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As Jeno steps out into the cool night, he spots you alone under a streetlamp, the smoke from your cigarette curling into the night air. As you take another drag, the ember glows, casting a soft light on your features. He’s mesmerised by the sight, a girl smoking would always be hot to him, the sight of the smoke framing your face proves that. It gives you a mysterious vibe, making you appear all the more captivating and irresistibly sexy in his eyes.

Drawn to you, he moves closer and asks if he can join. Noticing his gaze linger, you offer him a cigarette with a knowing smile. You offer him a cigarette with a knowing smile. As he accepts, your fingers brush against his, sending a jolt of electricity through both of you. There’s a charged energy in the way your gazes lock. As he inhales, his jawline becomes more pronounced, the smoke curling around him like a caress. There’s a deliberate slowness to his exhale, the smoke weaving between you, creating an intimate veil.

As the conversation between you and Jeno progresses, you find yourself surprisingly at ease in his presence. Normally, you'd keep your guard up, especially around someone as notorious as Jeno, but tonight, there's something different. Before you realize it, you're drawing him in closer, the usual barriers falling away. You might have blamed it on alcohol, but you're sober, leaving the connection between you both intriguingly genuine.

Conversation starts light, with Jeno leaning in slightly, the warmth of the moment closing the distance between you. "Watching you tonight… I was taken aback, you’re really good," he says, his voice low and appreciative, tinged with genuine admiration.

You laugh softly, a bit of surprise flickering across your face at his observation. "I just love playing, didn't think anyone actually noticed," you reply, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, a hint of bashfulness in your smile.

"Oh, trust me, it's hard not to notice," Jeno continues, his gaze steady on you, making sure you understand he's talking about more than just the music.

You giggle, feeling a mix of flattery and nervousness under his focused attention. "Well, I'm glad you think so. I'm usually just hoping I don't mess up the chords," you respond, trying to maintain a lighthearted tone, even as his compliment sends a warm flutter through you.

"Mess up? I think you could play anything and make it sound incredible," he asserts, a playful yet sincere edge to his words. His flirtatious confidence is smooth, but it's his underlying earnestness that catches you off guard, drawing an unguarded smile from you.

The conversation flows, creating a comfortable yet charged atmosphere. Your laughter comes more easily. With a playful smirk, Jeno’s eyes trail down your figure, appreciating the way your tight top accentuates your curves and your skirt hugs your hips and thighs. “You look stunning,” he comments, his tone flirtatious yet respectful.

Blushing at his compliment, you giggle softly and playfully respond, “I thought I looked pretty today.”

Jeno’s gaze meets yours, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes as he leans in closer. “You look hot,” he says, his voice dripping with desire, sending a thrill down your spine.

Your cheeks flush a deeper shade of pink as you accept Jeno's jacket, letting out a soft giggle that speaks volumes of your appreciation and the fluttering emotions within. "Thank you," you manage to say, your voice light and airy, tinged with a mix of gratitude and a growing warmth that has little to do with the dropping temperatures around you.

The way Jeno looked at you changed everything. You had noticed his eyes when you were on the stage and you’re noticing it now. The opinions you had formed about him, the guard you had meticulously built up, the walls you constructed around yourself—all of it began to crumble the moment his gaze met yours. You found yourself inexplicably drawn towards him, a magnetic pull you couldn't resist.

There's just something about him.

There's something about his eyes, particularly striking, that makes it impossible for you to look away. It's as if they hold a depth of understanding and kindness, captivating you, making you feel seen and acknowledged in a way that's disarmingly comforting.

There's something about his smile, too. It's genuine, radiant even, cutting through your defenses as if they were made of paper. His smile seems to speak directly to your soul, warming you from the inside out, and making the corners of your own lips twitch upwards in response.

You can't help but admit, there's something about him—something undeniably compelling that makes you feel like you’re rediscovering something familiar, a connection that's both unexpected and deeply welcome.

You start to shiver, you’re not sure whether it’s because of the weather or how he’s making you feel. Jeno, noticing your discomfort, doesn't hesitate. He smoothly takes off his jacket and places it over your shoulders. The sudden warmth from the jacket contrasts sharply with the cool air.

As Jeno's jacket settles around your shoulders, the immediate sensation is one of warmth, the material soft against your skin. The jacket, slightly too large, feels like a hug, a protective barrier against the chill. But it's his scent that truly captivates you — infused with notes of wood and spice, subtle yet distinctly masculine.

Jeno's gaze inadvertently falls on your arm. There, slightly peeking out from under the fabric, is a tattoo that immediately captures his attention. It's a butterfly, intricately designed, its wings seemingly crafted from delicate wisps of ashes, as if it has risen, reborn from the remnants of a past life. The detail is exquisite, symbolising transformation, resilience, and the beauty of emerging stronger from challenges.

"That's... I have the same tattoo," Jeno reveals, his voice tinged with disbelief and a newfound depth of connection.

For a moment, the world seems to pause, the ambient noise of your surroundings fading into the background as you lock eyes. The eye contact is intense, it’s as if the discovery of your matching tattoos has unveiled a deeper layer of understanding, a serendipitous link that neither of you expected but both inherently feel.

The butterfly, for you, symbolizes a journey through personal trials, a testament to the strength it takes to rise anew. For Jeno, it represents a parallel path, a reminder of his own resilience and the transformative power of embracing change.

You feel a surge of heat pooling in your core as he shifts slightly, his movements drawing you in closer. “Are you okay with me showing you?” he asks, voice low and husky, dripping with seduction. It sends a rush of heat straight to your core. You narrow your eyes, confused but nod immediately, your chest tightening and your eyes firing when you realise what he means. It’s a tattoo under his shirt, and the thought of him revealing it to you ignites a fiery desire within you.

Your heart races as you meet his gaze, your eyes smouldering with desire. With a deliberate yet sensual touch, you place your hand on his, stopping him from lifting his shirt. “Do you want to come home with me?” you whisper, surprised at how forward you’re being but this feels right. Your voice is laced with longing and need. You can feel the electricity crackling between you, the air thick with anticipation.

A wicked grin spreads across Jeno’s lips as he gazes at you, his eyes darkening with desire. “You can show me then. I have a tattoo on my thigh that I want to show you,” you add, your words sending a surge of arousal through both of you. The tension between you is palpable, the desire for each other burning hotter with every passing moment.

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Ultimately, you made the first move. The walk back home was charged with an energy that couldn't be ignored, an undeniable sexual tension that seemed to pull you both closer with every step. Heated glances were exchanged, each look sending a clear message of the attraction between you.

The moment the front door clicked shut, you seized him, your fingers digging into his shirt as you pulled him into you with an urgency that bordered on desperation. His lips crashed against yours like a tidal wave, igniting a firestorm of passion that consumed you both. It was a kiss fueled by the electric charge that had crackled between you since the moment you laid eyes on each other.

His lips were like a drug, intoxicating and addictive, sending shockwaves of desire coursing through your veins. He knew exactly how to move his lips against yours, each brush and caress igniting a blaze of longing deep within you. The taste of him, a heady blend of musk and spice, lingered on your lips, driving you to explore every inch of his mouth.

His tongue traced the outline of your lips with a teasing flick, coaxing them to part with an insistence. His tongue delved deep into the recesses of your mouth, seeking out every hidden corner with an eager hunger. Your tongues tangled together with a longing that left you both breathless. With each stroke and caress, the intensity of the kiss grew.

His arms encircled your waist, pulling you impossibly close until there was no space between you, his body pressing against yours with a delicious urgency. You tangled your fingers in his hair, each touch and pull of his hair igniting a wildfire of need within you.

As you stumbled blindly through the room, knocking over objects in your path, you couldn't bring yourself to care about the mess you left in your wake. You knocked over one of your lego sets, one that took endless hours to build but in that moment, all that mattered was kissing him, the taste of him on your lips, and the overwhelming need that consumed you both.

Jeno’s hands are rough and eager as he rips your top off, the fabric tearing with a satisfying sound that echoes in the room. He wastes no time in unzipping your mini skirt, but the tightness proves to be a challenge. You both share a moment of laughter, the sound muffled by your desperate kisses, as he struggles to pull it down your legs.

Giggles mix with moans as you continue to ravage each other. You dragged him impossibly closer, as if trying to meld your bodies together into one. His arms wrapped around you, his hands roaming over your back and shoulders, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

You detach your lips for just a moment, recapturing your breath, then you leap into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist as he lifted you effortlessly off the ground. The sensation of his body against yours was electrifying. Your breath mingled with his, hot and heavy against each other’s mouths as you panted and moaned.

"Who's home?" he breathes out, desperation lacing his words, a different side of him emerging with a heavier, more urgent tone.

"No one. Just us," you reply, your voice a low, throaty moan, thick with desire.

You've heard Nayoung talk about her experiences with him, listened to her descriptions of how it felt to fuck him. You knew more about what you were getting yourself into than you let on. She had mentioned how he was softer in the beginning, but that wasn't what you wanted.

"I don't want you to hold back. I don't want you to be soft," you pant out, the words dripping with raw need and insatiable longing. "I want you to fuck me like you mean it," you demand, your voice husky with desire, your eyes blazing with primal hunger.

In response, he lets out a low, primal moan, almost a growl, that resonates deep within you, setting your senses ablaze and igniting a fire in the depths of your core.

He throws you onto the bed, a rush of exhilaration coursing through you as you land with a soft thud. His lips remain locked with yours, refusing to break the connection as he positions himself on top of you.

With a fierce determination, he discards your lace bra and thong, his hands moving with precision and purpose. As you lay exposed before him, you feel the heat in his eyes, a primal desire burning bright as he admires every inch of your bare form. His growl of appreciation sends shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within you that can only be quenched by his touch.

Between kisses, he whispers, "You don't know how much I've wanted to see every inch of your skin like this," his tone heavy with longing and anticipation. His lips continue their exploration, leaving you breathless and yearning for more. He murmurs, "I've been thinking about you all night long,"

Between kisses, he whispers, "Thinking about how you'd moan my name as I take every inch of you," his tone heavy with longing and anticipation. "The feeling of your body underneath mine, how it would arch and tremble," he continues, his breath hot against your skin. "Feeling your tight pussy gripping me.” He confesses, his words sending a surge of heat straight to your core.

Your whimper, feeling utterly speechless, yet you manage to muster one pleading request. "Take your clothes off," you whine, pouting as the realisation sinks in that he remains fully clothed against your bare skin.

He responds with a shake of his head, a smile dancing on his lips. "Not now," he murmurs before returning his focus to admiring every inch of your body.

His breath hitches when he finally sees your tattoo, it really was identical to his. With a hungry look in his eyes, he leans in and presses his lips against the outline of your tattoo, tracing it with tantalizing kisses. His lips move slowly, sensually, as he explores every inch of the intricate design, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through your body.

You gasp as his tongue joins the dance, tracing the delicate lines of your tattoo with a teasing touch. Each stroke of his tongue sends waves of pleasure rippling through you, igniting a fiery passion that consumes you both. In the heat of the moment, you lose yourself in the sensation of his lips and tongue caressing your skin, driving you to the brink of ecstasy.

“You're so fucking pretty," he purrs, his voice low and husky with desire as he drinks in the sight of you. He groans softly, unable to resist the magnetic pull of your beauty, longing to taste every inch of your skin.

His body presses down against yours with unyielding force, the weight of him grounding you to the mattress. You can feel every contour of his form pressing into you, every muscle tense with desire as he hungrily devours you.

The sensation of him against you is overwhelming, a reminder of his presence as he presses closer, leaving no space between you. Your breath hitches when you feel the unmistakable hardness of his cock rubbing against your thigh, igniting a fire of need within you.

As his lips trail from yours to your neck, he leaves a trail of hot, wet kisses in his wake. Each touch leaves behind a mark of his possession, a hickey to brand you as his own in the heat of the moment.

As his lips trail from yours to your neck, he leaves a scorching path of hot, wet kisses in his wake. His kisses are possessive and rough, each touch a declaration of his dominance as he claims you as his own. With each press of his lips against your skin, he leaves behind a red mark of his possession, his lips tugging at your skin with a delicious mix of pleasure and pain, leaving behind teeth marks that throb with a sensation that borders on ecstasy.

With a lingering kiss that sets your senses ablaze, he teases your lips before trailing down your body with determined intent. Each movement is deliberate, sending shivers of anticipation down your spine.

As he reaches your nipples, he captures them between his lips with a hunger that leaves you breathless. His tongue dances across your sensitive peaks, tracing intricate patterns before swirling around them in long, languid strokes. The sensation is electric, igniting a firestorm of desire deep within you as he sucks and licks with an insatiable hunger.

"Fuck," you moan, your voice dripping with need as he drives you wild with pleasure. "Jeno," you urge, your fingers grasping at his hair as you lose yourself in the overwhelming sensation.

"Harder," you demand, your voice laced with desperation as you beg for more of his intoxicating touch. "I need you to make me cum," you whimper, your body arching towards him as he complies with your wishes, his movements growing more urgent with each passing moment and you can’t help but feel his smirk against your skin.

With every tug of his hair, you feel a surge of pleasure coursing through you, intensifying the already overwhelming sensation of his mouth on your nipples. As he trails scorching kisses down your body, every touch sets your skin ablaze with desire, leaving a trail of heat in his wake. His lips linger over every inch of your flesh, igniting a firestorm of need that consumes you from within.

"That's it, good girl, cum for me," he murmurs against your skin, his voice a sultry whisper that sends shivers down your spine. His head rests against your thigh, his gaze locked with yours as he watches you with dazed eyes, the intensity of his stare driving you wild with desire.

"Keep your eyes on me when you cum," he demands, his voice low and deep, sending a thrill of anticipation coursing through you. You whimper in response, your hands trembling as you remove them from covering your face, laying them by your sides as your orgasm approaches rapidly.

As he locks his hands with yours, his touch sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you, his fingers coaxing and guiding you towards ecstasy. "Cum all over my tongue, pretty girl, can you do that for me?" he urges, his voice a husky growl that ignites a firestorm of need deep within you.

As the tension coils tighter within you, you feel your release building, a primal urge threatening to consume you entirely. With a tight grip on his hands, you surrender to the overwhelming sensation, your body trembling with anticipation.

The pleasure crashes over you like a tidal wave, your senses overwhelmed as you feel yourself spiraling into ecstasy. Behind closed eyelids, flashes of intense pleasure dance across your vision, colors swirling in a sensation.

He smashes his lips against yours, the kiss suffocating but so hot and heated that it sends a jolt of desire coursing through your veins. As he breaks away from the kiss, his words hang in the air, a response to the desire you had expressed earlier.

You notice a shift in him, a different look in his eyes that sends a thrill of excitement down your spine. There's a hot, intense side to him that you hadn't expected, a side that turns you on more than you could have imagined.

“How do you want me to fuck you?” Jeno whispers huskily, his lips trailing languid kisses all over your face.

His gaze softens with anticipation as he waits for your response, and you find yourself ready to comply. You nod eagerly, but he just tuts, wanting a clear answer.

"Tell me what you want me to do to you," he says, his voice a mixture of softness and anticipation, contrasting with the demanding tone in his voice. He's really asking you? You hadn't expected this, never experienced this level of openness and desire before.

"I - I..." you begin, stumbling over your words, unsure how to articulate your deepest desires.

"Baby, don't hold back," he tuts gently, his index finger resting at the bottom of your chin, keeping your gaze locked on his.

"Don't laugh at me," you pout.

"Why would I do that?" His voice deepens, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest as he reassures you with his words.

"I - I want you to be rough," you finally admit, your voice trembling with anticipation. "I want you to slap me, choke me, spit on me. I don't want you to be gentle. I want to see if you live up to the hype of being this 'sex god' that everyone claims you are. I - just do whatever you want to me. Use me and control me."

Your confession leaves you breathless, your heart pounding in your chest as you await his reaction. You gasp in shock at your own words, your eyes widening in disbelief at the boldness of your desires. But as you look into his eyes, you see nothing but desire and hunger reflected back at you, fueling the fire of anticipation burning between you.

His movements are confident and commanding as he grips your chin firmly, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. You dare not look away, captivated by the raw desire burning in his eyes. With his other hand, he traces the curves of your body, his touch rough and demanding, igniting a fire within you.

As his fingers trail lower, teasing your already sensitive peaks, you gasp at the electrifying sensation. A low growl escapes his lips as he feels how wet you already are, his finger slipping effortlessly into your eager heat.

“Fuck, you’re already dripping?” he murmurs, his voice laced with desire and disbelief. “I haven’t even touched you yet, needy slut.”

You moan as his fingers slide effortlessly into your eager heat, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure racing through your body. He doesn't hold back, pushing deeper with each thrust, stretching you to accommodate his every movement. The rough pads of his fingertips brush against your sensitive walls, igniting a firestorm of desire deep within you. You arch your back, offering yourself up to him completely, craving more of his intoxicating touch.

He adds another finger, and then another, the stretch deliciously overwhelming as he fills you completely. You can feel the pressure building, the tight coil of pleasure threatening to unravel at any moment. His pace quickens, his thrusts becoming more urgent and relentless as he drives you closer to the edge. You can't help but cry out, lost in the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body.

With each stroke, he pushes you closer and closer to the brink, until finally, you shatter into a million pieces, waves of ecstasy crashing over you as you succumb to the overwhelming pleasure he's given you.

"I want you to eat me out –" you manage to breathe out, your voice trembling with anticipation and need.

With a hungry glint in his eyes, Jeno positions you just how he likes, spreading your legs wide as he settles between them. His touch is demanding, yet precise, as he dips his fingers between your slick folds, reveling in the wetness that greets him. Already, he's moved his head down, and you eagerly cage it between your thighs, your breath hitching in anticipation.

Throwing your legs around his shoulders, you pull him closer, urging him to delve deeper. And delve he does, his tongue tracing intricate patterns along your throbbing heat, each stroke sending jolts of electricity coursing through your body. There's no gentleness in his approach; he's forceful, relentless, determined to devour you whole.

He attacks your clit with fervor, his tongue flicking against it with a ferocity that leaves you gasping for air. His fingers dig into your thighs, holding you in place as he intensifies his assault, his head bobbing between your legs as he drives you to the brink of ecstasy.

"Fuck, you taste so good," he growls against your sensitive flesh, the vibration sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. He's not content until you're a writhing mess beneath him, lost in a sea of pleasure that only he can provide.

Your moans fill the room, broken and desperate, as he takes you higher and higher, pushing you closer to the brink with each skilled stroke of his tongue. But just as you close your eyes to savour the moment, his hand comes down hard on your pussy, giving you a sharp slap. "I told you to look at me when you cum," he growls, his voice a commanding presence that leaves you breathless. You let out a moan, not expecting to be so turned on by this. It sends shockwaves of pleasure radiating through you.

With a small nod, you oblige, opening your eyes to meet his gaze, letting him see the raw, unbridled desire written across your face. You're completely at his mercy, your body aching with need as he continues to devour you with his mouth.

He sucks dry every last drop of your pleasure, his praises ringing in your ears like a symphony of desire.

He presses his lips against your throbbing core with a mouthy and wet kiss. "Good girl," he murmurs, his words a soothing balm to your fractured senses. "Such a pretty cunt," he adds, his voice a husky growl as he admires your pussy.

And as you come down from the dizzying heights of ecstasy, you're left panting and trembling in his arms, completely spent and utterly satisfied.

As Jeno pulls back from devouring you, his eyes blaze with unquenchable desire, hungry for more of you. Your body trembles with anticipation, aching for his touch as you meet his intense gaze, silently begging for him to fulfill your craving.

“Please, Jeno,” you plead, your voice thick with need, your fingers grasping at the sheets beneath you. “I need you inside me.” His grin is wicked, a mirror of your own desire, as he savors your desperation, relishing the power he holds over you.

“You want me to fuck you, baby?” he purrs, the husky timbre of his voice sending shivers down your spine.

You nod fervently, a smile tugging at your lips as your hands reach for his top, swiftly pulling it over his head. Your fingers trace over his bare chest and abs, the sight of his toned physique eliciting a gasp of admiration. His chest and abs glisten in the dim light, sculpted to perfection, each muscle defined with precision.

Your breath hitches with each passing moment, the ache between your legs growing more insistent with every heartbeat. Fingers trembling, you reach for his belt, your urgency evident in the way you fumble with the buckle. With a swift motion, he pulls it down himself, his boxers following suit, revealing his hardened length. You gasp at the sight, your eyes fixated on his cock as you reach out instinctively. He groans in response, his voice strained with desire as he warns, "Don't, baby. I won't last."

With a primal growl, he positions himself between your parted thighs, his throbbing cock poised at your entrance, close yet agonisingly out of reach. You can see it in his eyes, and the way he's looking at you, he's going to go soft despite his earlier promises of roughness.

As you express your disappointment with a soft whine, he silences you with a gentle shake of his head. "Trust me, baby, I'm big," he whispers in a husky tone, his words sending a thrill through you.

"I don't care. I still want you to be rough with me," you assert, your desire palpable in your voice.

He shakes his head once more. “You don't want me to be too rough for the first time," he explains softly, his eyes filled with tenderness. "Maybe next time," he adds with a teasing wink, prolonging the anticipation as he plays with your desires.

As his lips crash against yours in a breathy kiss, a symphony of moans escapes from the depths of your souls, mingling in the air like sweet melodies of desire. Each touch of his lips against yours ignites a fire within, sending sparks of electricity dancing across your skin. With every exhale, you both moan into each other’s mouth.

He backs away from your lips too early for your liking. With a devious glint in his eyes, he teases, testing your patience and leaving you craving more.

You grow increasingly impatient when he doesn’t move, he smirks, he’s teasing you, testing your patience. Your whimpers become more urgent with each passing moment. “Please,” you beg for any type of movement

But he continues to toy with you, his smirk widening as he revels in your desperation. “I don’t know, should I let you have my cock?” he taunts, his voice dripping with desire and dominance.

You deadpan. “Your cock is literally inside of my vagina right now—”

“Do you really think you deserve it?” he says, his voice low and dark, sending shivers down your spine.

You roll your eyes, a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips as you match his tone. You find yourself enjoying the charged atmosphere, how comfortable it feels with him. You find yourself holding back a grin. "I bet you're not even that big," you retort.

“Oh?” he says, a smirk playing on his lips as he closes the distance between you, his gaze burning with intensity.

As he thrusts into you with relentless force, you feel an overwhelming mix of pleasure and discomfort wash over you. His cock is so thick, stretching you to your limits with each deep penetration. You whimper, struggling to adjust to his size, but he shows no mercy, drilling into you with undefeated determination.

His movements are harsh and unforgiving, his hips driving forward with brutal force as he claims you as his own. Each thrust sends shockwaves through your body, leaving you trembling with need. You moan uncontrollably, unable to form coherent words as he pounds into you relentlessly.

“You’re so big,” you manage to gasp out between ragged breaths, your words breathy with a hint of disbelief in your voice as you feel him filling you completely. But his response is cold and mocking.

“You were talking so much shit earlier,” he sneers, his voice dripping with contempt. “Now stay there and fucking take it.”

As his hips collide with yours, the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, a rhythmic symphony of lust and desire. Each thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, your moans echoing off the walls as you surrender to the raw intensity of his touch.

He fucks you with a primal urgency, his movements rough and demanding as he claims you as his own. His cock drives into you with relentless force, stretching you to your limits and filling you completely with each deep penetration. You can feel every inch of him inside you, his hardness pressing against your most sensitive spots and sending waves of ecstasy crashing over you.

His cock pounds into you relentlessly, driving deep into your slick heat with each forceful thrust. You can feel every inch of him stretching you, pushing you to your limits as he claims you as his own. The sensation is overwhelming, a mixture of pleasure and pain that only serves to fuel your desire for more. “More,” you gasp, your voice barely a whisper.

"Beg for it, beg for my cock deeper inside you," he commands, his voice dripping with desire and dominance. As his words hang in the air, you feel his hands gripping your thighs, pulling your legs around his waist. With a swift movement, he positions you exactly how he wants, allowing for deeper penetration and intensifying the sensations between you. This change in angle sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body, pushing you both to new heights of ecstasy. With each thrust, he buries himself deeper inside you, his cock filling you completely as you cling to him, lost in the overwhelming pleasure of the moment.

"Harder, please," you plead, your voice trembling with need as you yearn for him to give you everything he's got. Your body craves the intensity of his touch, the roughness of his thrusts driving you wild with desire. You arch your back, offering yourself up to him completely, desperate for him to take you to the brink of ecstasy and beyond.

He obliges, increasing the tempo of his thrusts, his movements becoming more urgent as he drives himself deeper into you. The sound of your moans fills the room, mixing with the sound of skin slapping against skin, loud moans and your headboard creaking.

With each merciless thrust, your body succumbs to the relentless assault, every movement driving you closer to the brink of ecstasy. The raw power of his domination leaves you breathless, your senses consumed by the overwhelming pleasure he bestows upon you. You teeter on the edge of climax, every nerve ending ablaze with desire, craving release like never before.

“I’m gonna cum,” you moan desperately, your plea echoing through the room, but instead of granting you release, he chuckles darkly, a sinister sound that sends a shiver down your spine.

With a cruel twist, he wrenches his cock back, the abrupt movement sending a jolt of pain coursing through you. His gaze is unforgiving, a menacing glint in his eyes as he stares down at you, relishing in your torment. Your whimpers of protest only fuel his cruel pleasure, a smirk playing on his lips as he revels in your frustration.

“You were talking so much shit earlier,” he taunts, his voice dripping with contempt as he watches you squirm beneath him. “Do you think you deserve to cum?” His words are like daggers, each one laced with venom as he taunts and belittles you, his dominance asserting itself with every syllable. “Only good girls deserve to cum.”

Jeno’s anger is palpable as he flips you onto your back, the force of his movement taking you by surprise. Your heart races with anticipation, knowing that his roughness is a sign of his frustration. You can feel the tension in the air as he shifts you onto all fours, his movements primal and commanding.

“Spread your legs wider,” he demands, his tone brooking no argument. “That’s it,” he murmurs.

With a primal growl, he positions himself between your legs, his grip on your hips firm and unyielding. “Hold onto the headboard,” he orders, his voice commanding obedience. You obey without hesitation, your nails digging into the wood as he takes you from behind.

Each forceful thrust elicits a gasp from your lips, the intensity of his desire overwhelming your senses. “You like it rough, don’t you?” he taunts, his words punctuated by the sound of skin slapping against skin. “Tell me how much you want it,” he demands, his voice rough with desire.

In the heat of the moment, his anger fuels his actions, his movements rough and unyielding. As he fills you completely, you’re overwhelmed by the sensation, your senses flooded with pleasure. Gasping for air, you’re left breathless, the intensity of his desire consuming you.

Each powerful thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, driving you further toward the edge of ecstasy. Your ass meets his thighs with each forceful movement, the impact sending a shiver down your spine. He takes advantage of your vulnerability, delivering sharp slaps to your pussy, each one igniting a fire within you.

With a forceful grip, he fists your hair back, tilting your head upwards to expose your neck to him. He leaves bruises and hickies along your skin, marking you as his own. His grip tightens, asserting his control over you, his hands roaming possessively over your body.

With a firm grip on your hips, he dictates the rhythm of his thrusts, each one a testament to his dominance. Your arms are held in place, you're left feeling exposed, entirely at his mercy. “I could fuck you like this forever,” he muses in a dark whisper

As he relentlessly pounds into you, his cock stretching you beyond your limits, tears well up in your eyes. The sheer force of his thrusts drives you to the brink of madness, each movement sending waves of both pleasure and pain rippling through your body.

“You really thought you could handle me?” he taunts, his voice dripping with disdain as he continues to ravage you without mercy. His words cut through you like a knife, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable beneath his intense gaze.

Despite the overwhelming sensations coursing through you, there’s a perverse sense of pleasure that accompanies the pain and humiliation. You find yourself surrendering to him completely, lost in the primal rhythm of his thrusts and the raw power he exudes.

Your cries mingle with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, the room filled with the symphony of your shared desire. “That’s it,” he growls, his voice low and menacing. “Take it all”

Each thrust drives you closer to the edge of sanity, your body trembling with the exquisite torment of his rough ministrations. The pleasure-pain dichotomy consumes you entirely, leaving you lost in a haze of ecstasy and agony.

You feel completely overwhelmed by him, your senses drowning in the intoxicating cocktail of desire and desperation. The need to please him at any cost drives you to new heights of submission, your every thought and action dedicated to his satisfaction.

His reaction is one of twisted satisfaction, his grin a sinister reflection of the dominance he wields over you. He takes perverse pleasure in your tears, viewing them as a testament to his power and control. With each sob that escapes your lips, he revels in the knowledge that he holds your very soul in his hands, a willing captive to his every whim.

“I-I’m so close,” you gasp out between ragged breaths, your voice trembling with desperation. “Please, let me cum.”

His response is immediate and commanding. His hands wrap around your throat with a firm grip. As he tightens his hold, you feel a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins, intensifying the sensations overwhelming your body. At the same time, his other hand delivers a sharp, stinging spank to your cheek, sending a jolt of mixed pleasure and pain radiating through you.

“You don’t get to cum until I say so,” he growls, his voice low and authoritative. “Remember that.”

"Please," you beg, your voice strained with desperation. "I need you to cum inside me. Fill me up."

His resolve breaks at your plea, his control slipping as he gives in. Jeno ravages you mercilessly, his own release momentarily forgotten as he focuses solely on driving you to the brink of pleasure. His hands roam over your trembling body, his touch igniting sparks of electricity that dance along your skin. He holds you close and with one final thrust, he sends you hurtling over the edge into blissful oblivion.

As the pleasure builds to an unbearable peak, you feel yourself teetering on the edge of ecstasy. Your body trembles with anticipation, every nerve ending alive with sensation. With a primal cry, you shatter into a million pieces, your orgasm consuming you completely. Waves of pleasure crash over you, leaving you gasping for air as you ride the euphoric high.

Shortly after, with a primal roar, he releases inside you, his hot seed flooding your depths as you both reach the peak of ecstasy together. Waves of pleasure wash over you, leaving you breathless and sated in each other's embrace.

He removes his cock from you, a mixture of wetness and cum slipping out in its wake. With a firm grip, he manhandles you, turning you around to face him. His touch is surprisingly gentle, a complete contrast to the roughness with which he just fucked you. Using his thumb, he wipes away the mascara trailing down your face, his expression softening as he takes in your fucked-out appearance.

Your eyelids droop with exhaustion, but before you can succumb to sleep, he speaks with a gentleness that catches you off guard. "Don't sleep just yet. I need to get you cleaned up." The difference in his tone leaves you feeling dizzy and confused, his soft eyes meeting yours.

Later on, you’re all cleaned up, thanks to him running a bath for you and cleaning your body with your favorite scent of soap. There were lingering kisses and massages, and he even sat in the bath with you, sharing in the intimacy of the moment. Now, you’re in your pajamas, feeling cozy and comfortable, then he asks if he can stay. It’s late so you nod in agreement. That was the only reason. He settles onto your bed, his eyes closing with a contented smile.

But suddenly, you get up, breaking the serene atmosphere. “I need to clean the apartment,” you declare, and he laughs at first, thinking it’s a joke. However, his expression turns serious when he realises you’re not joking.

──────────────────────────────

‘Did the four positions and the five times I made you cum not make you sleepy?’ He questions from behind you.

You turn to him, shaking your head. “It was not four —”

You feel the heat rising to your cheeks as he lists them off. “Missionary, from the back and then against the wall in the shower. You also rode my cock in the shower.’ His words send a shiver down your spine and you gulp. Where did this sex drive come from?

“I just counted, and I made you cum six times,” he adds with a satisfied grin.

You roll your eyes. “Do you count the amount of times you’ve made a girl cum for every girl you sleep with?”

He winks, his voice bringing chills to your spine. “Only you.”

As he leans down beside you, your heart skips a beat. “What do you need help with?” he asks, his gaze locking deeply with yours. Despite the tired lines etched on his face, he alludes such an effortless attractiveness. He was incredibly magnetising and radiant, basking in a sex afterglow.

Your voice is soft and gentle as you speak. “We dropped so many lego sets… I could do with some help putting them back together.”

He smiles warmly and nods, his tired eyes twinkling with affection. "Let's do it."

As you both delve into the intricate world of Lego, your fingers deftly reassembling the scattered pieces, you find yourself opening up to Jeno in a way you never have before.

“You know… no one ever wants to build them with me, this is quite surprising,” you admit, your eyes fixated on the task at hand.

He hums in response, his attention fully captured by your words. “It’s not common for people in their 20s to be into Lego,” he remarks, his tone tinged with curiosity.

As you delve into the details of your Lego collection, Jeno’s genuine interest shines through. He listens intently as you recount the origins of each set, marking the first time you’ve shared this hobby so thoroughly. “I got this one from a fair I went to when I was 12, my uncle got me this one, Nayoung got me this one,” you explain, a nostalgic smile playing on your lips.

His curiosity peaks as he spots a rare Lego set on your shelf, one he surprisingly recognizes by name. “How the fuck did you get that one?” he asks, pointing directly at it.

You respond with a deadpan expression, “I camped out at 3am in the winter to get it.” The absurdity of the situation hits both of you at once, sparking uncontrollable laughter.

Jeno, catching his breath, manages to say, “Tough,” with a mix of admiration and amusement in his voice.

“Did anyone get you this one?” Jeno points at a very rare and expensive set, his eyes glowing with awe. It’s one that was already made, one of your prized possessions, you were glad it was still in tact.

You giggle, a smile lighting up your face as you give him the go-ahead to touch it. You don’t let anyone touch your Lego collection. Especially that set.

An immediate smile lights up your face, and you nod. “Sunwoo got me that one,” you say, relishing the memory. It was one of his random gifts, one that cheered you up when you needed it most.

“Kim Sunwoo? You’re friends with him?” Jeno’s curiosity peaks, his surprise at the mention of Sunwoo not shocking you.

You nod. “My best friend.”

“You seem really different from each other,” Jeno observes.

“We are,” you agree. It’s a common observation, one that you’ve heard countless times before. Sunwoo spends his time getting high and indulging in casual sex; he’s the ultimate fuck boy. But despite his wild ways, he’s also your best friend. He’s intense, but you need him in your life. “People say opposites attract, we balance each other out well. Plus, I’ve known him since we were kids.”

“Are you trying to tell me that you don’t spend your time getting laid because the things you were doing when we were fucking… it takes experience to —”

You interject with a soft whisper, “I’m not a virgin.” You anticipate a reaction from him, but he surprises you by simply smiling and nodding in acknowledgment.

“It was clear when I was fucking you,” he explains calmly, “I could tell it wasn’t your first time.”

Your laughter fills the room, accompanied by a blush coloring your cheeks. “It’s just that there’s a ridiculous rumor that goes around that I’m some Christian girl who’s waiting until marriage and that I’m untouched when it’s not true.”

Jeno’s curiosity persists. “Why did that rumor start?”

Shrugging slightly, you respond, “I don’t even know… I guess people just see me as a quiet and shy person and automatically equate that to me being innocent and clueless. I’m very private; I keep my sexual life on the low. I don’t gossip about it or talk about things like that openly, even to my closest friends. They’re my best friends, so they know I’ve had sex before, but they still join in on the joke that I’m a Christian virgin just to wind me up.”

As Jeno hums thoughtfully, you sense his presence beside you, his silence speaking volumes. Despite not responding verbally, you know he's listening intently, absorbing every word you say. His attentive demeanour reassures you, reminding you that he's there, fully engaged in the conversation. It's a rare quality that you appreciate, his ability to be present and attentive without the need for constant verbal affirmation.

“Why did you start playing bass?” Jeno’s question catches you off guard, his gaze lingering on the eccentric blue bass in the corner of the room in a way that makes your head spin.

You can’t help but giggle at his curiosity. “I was kinda forced to, actually.”

“Really?” His surprise is evident in his voice.

You nod, recalling how Sunwoo had roped you into joining his band. “It’s Sunwoo’s band, and he needed a bass player. He decided it was going to be me, so he taught me how to play. He’s very serious about his band, you know. His major is music, so it makes sense. Sunwoo’s good at everything. He can sing, rap, dance, and play any instrument. I’m the bassist in the band, but he’s better than me at playing it.”

Jeno shakes his head with a smile. “Don’t say that. You’re such a natural at playing bass.”

You offer him a grateful smile in return, touched by his compliment.

“I didn’t see Sunwoo at the gig, though,” Jeno observes, his gaze lingering on your face.

“Or Ryujin,” you add, a burst of laughter escaping your lips. Jeno’s eyebrow quirks up in confusion.

“She’s our main vocalist and plays piano. She wasn’t there either because Sunwoo was balls deep inside of her,” you explain, amusement evident in your voice. “She’s our fifth main vocalist, and we’re probably gonna need to replace her soon. Sunwoo keeps fucking the main vocalists in the band, and they always leave because it makes everything awkward and tense.”

Jeno shakes his head, a wry smile playing on his lips. “Sounds like him.”

You nod in agreement, a knowing look passing between you. “He can’t keep his fucking cock in his pants. Always has to go fuck the woman in the group.”

Jeno chuckles in response, the sound warm and genuine.

You and Jeno have been talking for what felt like hours.

The ease of conversation made it feel like you've known each other for much longer. You didn’t expect to have so much in common with him, you didn’t expect the conversation to flow as smoothly as it did, you also didn’t expect for him to actually stay, especially after you had finished having sex.

His confidence and appeal enhance the atmosphere. Jeno's casual demeanor sets the tone the moment he begins to speak, his confidence is almost dripping from him, as if it's part of the very air around him. He's got this cool, laid-back vibe that's utterly captivating, standing here in your apartment as if it's the most natural thing in the world.

Jeno's gaze holds yours, an unspoken intensity lingering in the way he looks at you. There's an undeniable attractiveness in his focus, in the deliberate way he gives you his undivided attention. Each time he listens, it's with an intensity that makes the moment stretch, filling it with an undeniable tension.

His eyes, expressive and deep, seem to capture and reflect every flicker of emotion, making the connection between you feel both electrifying and profoundly intimate. His smile, when it breaks, is like a slow dawn, gradually illuminating his features and warming the space between you.

You bond about little things but in retrospect they were big, they were such specific and unique things, things that were so special to you.

You give him a tour of your apartment, showing him around with a sense of pride. Each room holds a piece of you, and you’re eager to share it with him. As you lead him through the space, you point out your prized possessions, sharing the stories behind each one.

“This is where I keep my vinyl collection,” you explain, gesturing towards a shelf filled with records. He pauses, running his fingers over the sleek covers with a sense of appreciation.

“Your taste is… amazing.”

He believes in those words even more when you show him your book collection, you're surprised to find that Jeno has read them all. You point out one of the most important books to you, ‘A Thousand Splendid Suns’ and as you're about to recite your favourite line, he says it at the same time as you. “One could not count the moons that shimmer on her roofs, or the thousand splendid suns that hide behind her walls.” you both say in unison, the words echoing in the room.

The eye contact that follows is strong and intense, making you feel weak in the knees. You want to look away, but you can't tear your gaze from his. He's captivating, and in that moment, you feel a magnetic connection that transcends words.

──────────────────────────────

You sit surrounded by your closest friends in a secluded corner of the student lounge. You and Eunji are working on university assignments and projects, both studying musical arts. The steady hum of youthful chatter and the clatter of laptop keys fail to distract you. You’re here but you’re not really here. The noise around you fades into the background as thoughts of Jeno consume your mind every time you close your eyes.

Your mind relentlessly replays the sensation of Jeno's lips against yours, the way his hands explored every inch of your body, and the intensity in his eyes as he gazed at you. The memory of his touch lingers, leaving you dazed and confused. And then there's his cock, thick and pulsating with desire, the mere thought of it sending a shiver down your spine. It's as if his presence has etched itself into every corner of your mind, dominating your thoughts and leaving little room for anything else.

You try to push the memories aside, to focus on the task at hand, but it's no use. His image, his touch, his presence, his lips—it all feels so real. To make matters worse, Eric and Nayoung keep probing and probing.

“Y/N!!!!!” Nayoung interrupts your thoughts. “Are you ready to tell us what happened last night?” she asks with a mischievous wink, raising her eyebrows suggestively, and you immediately understand the implication. You discretely shush her, promising to tell her later, not wanting to draw attention, but nothing ever slips past Eric’s sharp eyes.

As you’re grappling with the weight of your previous conversation, Sunwoo walks in, offering what you hope might be a timely distraction.

The moment he enters, you shoot him an accusatory glare. “You left me and Eric stranded yesterday! We had to find two people willing to perform with us last minute,” you scold, your frustration evident in your tone.

Sunwoo shrugs nonchalantly. “Yeah, I was balls deep inside of Ryujin,” he says casually, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.

You turn to him, tutting and shaking your head in disbelief. But deep down, you’re not truly surprised. “Really? Again?” you sigh, knowing all too well the consequences of Sunwoo’s actions.

Ryujin, the lead vocalist and keyboard player in your band, was now the latest victim of Sunwoo’s need of fucking the lead vocalists. It has become a recurring theme in your band’s history. Sunwoo's habit of sleeping with the lead vocalists inevitably leads to their departure from the band, as they realize he's only interested in a fling without any emotional attachment.

There had been four lead vocalists before Ryujin who had left for the same reason, and now she was the fifth. It was a cycle that seemed impossible to break, it was annoying but it was pretty funny.

“Pay up,” Eric demands, holding out the money jar to Sunwoo. With a roll of his eyes, Sunwoo begrudgingly adds a £5 note to the jar, another contribution to Eric’s growing collection of Sunwoo’s indiscretions.

Sunwoo lets out a deep sigh, his head tilting back against the cool wall with a suggestive noise that’s entirely inappropriate for 8 AM on a Monday morning. He’s always horny, he was missing Ryujin, missing her pussy.

The brief distraction provided by Sunwoo’s antics quickly fades as Eric, always persistent, picks up the previous line of questioning. He laughs loudly, turning to face you with an expression that feels a bit too much like an interrogation. You brace yourself, knowing exactly where he’s heading with this.

Eric lets out a loud laugh, turning to you like it was an an interrogation, letting you know he wouldn’t drop it you instantly know what he’s going to say. “Where did you run off to after the gig?” he questions, but before you can respond, he answers for you. “I did see a certain Lee Jeno checking you out.”

Silence fills the room, and then Nayoung screams in excitement. “They fucked!!! They had sex!!! Look, it’s all over Y/N’s face, she’s practically basking in the afterglow of Lee Jeno’s massive cock.”

The room erupts into laughter, and you can feel your cheeks burning with embarrassment as everyone turns their attention to you, leaving you wishing for the floor to swallow you whole.

You groan and sit there silently, wearing a defeated expression as Eric and Nayoung exchange comments and jokes, teasing you mercilessly. Sunwoo, however, remains silent, his expression unreadable as always, leaving you feeling perplexed by his demeanour.

He turns to face you subtly, and all he says is, “Really?” before breaking into a smirk.

You shoot Sunwoo a deadpan look. “You’re not allowed to judge me. You keep fucking our lead vocalists out of the group!”

As Sunwoo is about to defend himself, Eric’s playful smirk and words cut him off. “Hey, missed a spot?” he quips, at first you narrow your eyes in confusion but then you gulp when you realise he’s talking about the concealer on your neck. A suggestive grin plays on his lips. “Need some help covering up all those hickeys Jeno left all over your neck? I’m sure Nayoung has some concealer in her bag.”

You shoot him a warning look, shushing him with a nervous glance around the room. “Keep it down, Eric,” you hiss, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “People could be listening.”

Nayoung, always one to push boundaries, takes it a step further. “Hey, do you need to order a new bed frame?” she asks innocently, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “I’m sure yours has broken after Jeno fucked you in it all night long.”

Eric's teasing hits a nerve, and you can feel the heat rising to your cheeks. "Seriously though, I heard that you were moaning like a bitch in heat," he says with a sly grin, his words laced with mischief.

You roll your eyes, trying to brush off his remarks. "You weren't even there," you retort, hoping to shut down the conversation before it escalates any further.

But Eric wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. "Oh, did you want me to be there? To watch?" he asks, his tone playful yet suggestive. "I didn't have you down as a kinky bitch, Y/N," he adds with a smirk, clearly enjoying getting under your skin.

You huff in frustration. "Oh? You don't want me to watch but to join in? I'm down! And so is Jeno, I heard he lost his virginity to not one girl but two girls... at the same time," Eric continues, his grin widening at the shocked expression on your face.

Nayoung joins in with a chuckle, adding fuel to the fire. "That's not true, he lost it to Arin. But he's had multiple threesomes and orgies," she chimes in, somehow knowing everything about everyone. She even knew who you had lost your virginity to even though you had sworn to keep it a secret.

“Arin?” you respond, taken aback. “Isn’t she the one from our classes with that angelic voice?”

“Yeah she studied music and she’s also a bitch,” Nayoung doesn’t hold back.

You huff. “Really? She looks quite sweet.”

“She’s got talent, sure, but she’s like a snake. All sweet to your face then she strikes when you’re not looking,” she continues with a grimace.

“You’re just pissed because after you fucked Jeno, he ghosted you,” Sunwoo chimes in, unable to resist teasing her.

“Why did he ghost you?” you ask, intrigued by the drama unfolding.

“Because he went back to fucking Arin,” Nayoung says, a hint of bitterness in her voice.

You scratch your neck, ignoring this sinking feeling. “Did they ever actually date?”

Nayoung shrugs. “I don’t think they dated, just fucked. But she’s been the one constant in his bed. Seems like they’re casual fuck buddies, on and off whenever it suits them.”

Sunwoo’s expression catches you off guard, his eyebrows arching in genuine confusion. “Y/N? Are you jealous?” he probes, clearly trying to understand your reaction.

Quick to dispel any misconceptions, you respond firmly, making sure there’s no room for doubt. “No! We only had sex, nothing more. There’s nothing to be jealous over,” you assert, hoping to shut down any further speculation about your feelings towards the situation.

However you can’t supress the swirls of discomfort and confusion inside you, unsettling you more than you'd like to admit. Arin’s history with Jeno, something intense and vaguely defined, gnaws at your peace, leaving you to wonder about the legitimacy of your feelings. Was it valid for you to even be jealous?

But as these thoughts churn, the lounge's doors swing open, and a group of engineering students enters, breaking your inward spiral. Jeno is among them, still dressed in his work attire—an apron dusted from a practical session, and a tool belt loosely hanging around his hips. The engineering gear marks a stark contrast against the casual styles of your graphic tee and jeans, emphasising the divide between your worlds.

Your eyes instinctively find him as he walks in. He's laughing with his friends, completely at ease, seemingly untouched by the intense sex you had just hours ago. He looks so calm, so put together. It's as if he's able to effortlessly recompose himself, while you're still reeling from the memories and his touch. It’s as if the night you shared was just another ordinary event for him.

As Jeno adjusts his apron, a simple yet deliberate action, your gaze inevitably travels to his hands—those same hands that had so expertly explored the depths of you just hours earlier. The casual way he shifts the strap of his tool belt, his fingers brushing against the coarse fabric, vividly conjures memories of how those very fingers had traced your curves and navigated your folds in a way that left you breathless. The memory of his touch, precise and bold, sends a wave of warmth flooding your cheeks, your body involuntarily responding to the mere thought of his proximity.

He casually stretches his fingers, the joints clicking softly in the quiet of the lounge. The sound, distinct and resonant, wasn't loud enough to be heard by others, but your focus is entirely on him. To you, the soft click echoes significantly, a subtle reminder of the way those fingers had moved with such deliberate intent, exploring and memorising every contour of your body with a precision that left an indelible mark on your senses.

Your gaze can't help but follow the motion of his hands up to his forearms. His sleeves are pushed up slightly, revealing forearms marked by prominent veins that stand out against his skin, tracing paths of strength and vitality. These are the arms that had held you with a confident, yet gentle touch, their power barely restrained as they explored you. The casual way he shifts the strap of his tool belt, his fingers brushing against the coarse fabric, each movement of his hands, the visible veins pulsing slightly with each flex, brings back a rush of sensations, the memory of his touch—both precise and bold—sending a wave of warmth flooding your cheeks.

Caught in this reverie, you almost miss the moment he looks up. His eyes meet yours, and for a suspended heartbeat, the world around you blurs into insignificance. His gaze holds a depth that reflects a shared history, mirroring the intensity of your intimate encounter. It's a knowing look, laden with an unspoken promise, silently communicating that he recalls every detail just as vividly as you do.

Eric’s voice breaks through, calling out, “Hey, Jeno!” He motions for him to come over.

As Jeno approaches, the simple tee visible beneath his partly open engineering apron catches your eye again. His full name ‘Lee Jeno.’ was neatly embroidered on the pocket, adding a personal touch to his otherwise utilitarian outfit. With each step he takes, it seems as though the room rearranges itself to accommodate the energy he brings. Despite there being an empty seat next to Nayoung, Jeno bypasses it, choosing instead the space directly beside you. It's a deliberate choice, requiring him to traverse around the table from where he started, signalling his intent to be as close to you as possible.

As he settles down, his body exudes a warmth you can feel even before he fully sits. The proximity is almost too much to handle, his scent—a rich blend of brown sugar, cinnamon, and a hint of citrus, underlined by a masculine note of metal and solder from his engineering lab—fills your senses, making your breath hitch. The unique aroma is both comforting and intoxicating, distinctly Jeno, and unmistakably alluring. The scent takes you back to mere hours before when you both had fucked.

His knee brushes against yours as he adjusts in his seat, the simple touch sending a jolt through your body. You catch your breath, your attempt to focus on anything else utterly futile. Jeno is here, right next to you, and every fibre of your being is acutely aware of his nearness.

Beside you, Eunji leans closer, her expression a mix of amusement and concern. "You okay?" she whispers, noticing the sudden pallor that has overtaken your features. You manage a nod and offer her a shaky smile, trying to mask the turmoil inside.

As Eric yaps on and on, you find his voice a magnetic force. Just focus on Eric, you repeat internally, seeking any lifeline to distract you. But Jeno’s presence is a force impossible to ignore. He leans closer, his body shifting just enough so his knee presses gently against yours under the table.

The subtle contact sends a shiver up your spine as he leans in, his voice a low whisper meant only for your ears, "I didn’t know you were interested in Eric." His words, edged with a teasing undertone, jolt you. The closeness of his mouth to your ear, the warmth of his breath, it all muddles your thoughts

"I… um, he’s fascinating," you reply, your voice a hushed stutter, drowned out almost entirely by the pounding of your heart.

Jeno pulls back slightly, his eyes holding yours in a steady, penetrating gaze that seems to delve deeper than the casual jest warrants. He nods, a slow, thoughtful movement, but the intensity doesn't wane. His eyes linger, searching, as if trying to read the unspoken feelings you're struggling so hard to mask.

“Are your legs okay?” Jeno asks, his tone serious but with an unmistakable undertone of teasing—a playful provocation he seems unable to resist.

You swallow hard, the sudden dryness in your throat making it difficult to speak. With a slight tremor in your voice, you whisper back, “Yeah.”

“Are you sure?” His smile is soft yet knowing, as he leans in closer, his voice dropping to a breathy whisper. Then, almost as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, his hand finds its way to your thigh. His fingers gently press into your skin, starting a slow, deliberate massage that sends waves of both comfort and electric tension through your body.

His eyes lock with yours, holding the gaze intensely. The world around you seems to blur into the background, all sounds fading away except for the intimate space he’s created. As his hand moves subtly, the connection deepens, communicated through that steady, penetrating eye contact that says more than words ever could.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down your spine.

You offer a shy and closed-off response, "Nothing much." But the truth is, your mind is racing with thoughts of him-his touch, his scent, the way he made you feel.

"What about you?" you ask, trying to gauge his thoughts.

With a devilish grin, he leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "I can't stop thinking about the way your pussy clenched around my cock when you came. I also can’t get over how good your ass looked bouncing on my cock.” He whispers, his voice dripping with desire.

As Jeno's words swirl around you, suffocating you with their intensity, you gasp for air, feeling the tight grip of panic clenching your chest. Your fingers tighten around the coffee cup, the ceramic surface offering a fleeting sense of stability amidst the whirlwind of sensations. Each breath feels strained, as if the air itself has thickened, making it difficult to draw in the oxygen your body craves. Despite the burning embarrassment prickling at your skin, you cling to the mundane act of sipping your drink, a feeble attempt to anchor yourself.

Sunwoo speaks up from beside you, thankfully shifting the atmosphere with a different topic. "Guys... we need to host auditions for a new lead singer," he announces, clicking off his phone before flicking his eyes between you and Eric, signalling the urgency of the situation.

Nayoung can't help but burst into laughter at Sunwoo's statement. "He's fucked Ryujin so hard she found her way out of the band," she jokes, her comment cutting through the seriousness with her typical irreverence. Her laughter echoes around the group, lightening the mood and drawing a collective chuckle that momentarily dispels the heaviness in your heart.

──────────────────────────────

You’re all in the campus’ performance hall, Spotlights illuminate the stage, casting a warm glow over the polished wooden floors and plush red curtains. You, Sunwoo, and Eric are perched in the judges’ area, positioned strategically to catch every nuance of the performances.

Suddenly, Nayoung rushes into the room with a tray of four steaming coffees, her hurried steps echoing against the polished floor. “I’m sorry I’m late! I’m here now, let’s start!” She shouts as a strand of hair escapes from her bun, framing her delicate features in a soft halo of morning light. Her beauty is striking, even in the early hours of the day. There's an effortless elegance to her appearance, from the way her eyes sparkle with warmth to the curve of her lips as she smiles apologetically.

Nayoung wasn’t a member of the band, and she never had been nor probably ever would be, but she relished the opportunity to judge people, which explained why she always ended up as a judge alongside you, Sunwoo, and Eric.

“Guys, the auditions are starting,” Eric says.

The first person walks in, accompanied by two others. “I thought we were auditioning for a female lead vocalist?” you mumble, confused. But Eric just claps his hands together, excited for what’s to come.

“We’re the Foreign Swaggers,” one of the guys introduces the group name.

“Guys, you know we’re looking for one female lead vocalist, and you guys—” You’re interrupted by Mark Lee, known for being one of the best students in the music department. You know him, you’ve seen him at some parties, he’s friends with Donghyuc who was friends with Sunwoo. Mark was notorious for his talent and popularity among the girls.

“Alright, guys, what’s up,” Mark starts, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

“Yeah,” Jaehyun adds, trying to sound confident.

“What’s up,” Johnny chimes in, his tone more relaxed.

“We’re the, uh— we’re the, uh— Foreign Swaggers,” Mark stutters, trying to maintain composure.

“So, yeah, uh— Johnny’s gonna rap,” Johnny declares.

“I lived in America for four years! That’s why I’m here, man!” Jaehyun boasts.

The audition starts with a beatbox, followed by some mediocre rapping at best. They’re awkward, but there’s a certain charisma about them.

However, Sunwoo cuts them off as soon as their performance ends, not even bothering to judge them. “That’s it, you can go now.” he says hastily, signalling for them to leave.

You were about eight people in, and no one had impressed you yet. No one seemed to fit the image of your band, and you were starting to lose hope. Then, Hwang Yeji walked in, and your eyes lit up, though not as much as Eric and Sunwoo’s. You side-eye them and roll your own eyes, especially as you catch a glimpse of something very familiar in Sunwoo’s eyes—the fire and hunger.

Yeji introduces herself sweetly, with the most beautiful smile and laugh. You hope she can sing well, as visually she matches the image of your band very well. You let out a sigh of relief when she does sing, and she’s really good. Her voice is perfect, and you can already see her in the band.

“I’ve found the voice of an angel. I’ve fallen in love,” Sunwoo breathes heavily, his typical behaviour not surprising you in the least.

“You should view the auditions objectively. You shouldn’t let personal feelings get in the way of your judging,” you say, smirking.

“Shut up,” he replies hastily, unable to deny the truth in your words.

You’re taken aback by the look of genuine admiration in Sunwoo’s eyes. Could it be that he’s actually serious about his feelings for once? You’ve known Sunwoo long enough to recognize when he’s being sincere, and this time, it feels real.

After Yeji finishes her audition, a serene silence envelops the room, filled with admiration and appreciation for her talent. Sunwoo seems ready to offer her the role of lead vocalist on the spot, but you intervene before he can speak.

“Wait,” you interject, ignoring Sunwoo’s eagerness and turning to Yeji with a warm smile. “There’s one more person who wants to audition. Let’s hear her out before making a decision.”

You can feel Sunwoo’s frustration, but you know it’s important to give everyone a fair chance, even if Yeji seems like the perfect fit.

Your heart sinks when you see who walks in —it's Arin. An unsettling feeling washes over you, stirring up uncertainty that you try to push away, but it lingers like a stubborn shadow. She's so radiant and beautiful, exuding an energy and light that's hard to ignore. You understand why she's so popular; she's captivating in every way.

Of course you know who she is—someone in the year above, who seems to have a magnetic pull on everyone around her. All the guys are crazy for her, drawn to her like she's the centre of gravity in the room. And it's not just the guys; even Sunwoo and Eric seem infatuated by her presence, their eyes lingering on her like she's the only thing in the room.

She's sweet, with an infectious laugh and a presence that commands attention. She's the girl every guy wants to fuck and every girl wants to be.

And apparently, she has a beautiful singing voice too?

She's good. Really good. Her voice is like an angel's, filling the room with a captivating melody that earns her instant appreciation from everyone present.

You scoff and shoot a sideways glance at Sunwoo, muttering, "She's so bad."

He just smirks and shakes his head, clearly disagreeing with you. "She's definitely not," Eric chimes in, his voice laced with a dreamy quality that seems to be a common affliction among the guys in the room. Arin has this effect on every single one of them.

Nayoung smirks knowingly and teases, "I thought you didn't care about Jeno fucking her?"

You huff in response, denying any emotional investment in the matter. But no matter how much you try to defend yourself, it's clear that they all think your judgement is clouded by the rumour about Jeno and Arin.

Sunwoo remarks, "You should view the auditions objectively... You shouldn't let personal feelings get in the way of your judgement," he smirks, a reference to your previous words.

──────────────────────────────

As the crisp autumn evening settled over the campus, the university art gallery was abuzz with activity, its warmly lit interior casting a welcoming glow through the expansive glass doors. Tonight, it hosted the annual student art exhibition, a highlight for the arts department and an event that drew a crowd of eager students, local art enthusiasts, and faculty alike.

You, dressed in a favourite band tee that had seen better days and comfortable, well-worn jeans, felt a surge of excitement as you stepped into the gallery with Nayoung at your side. Your casual outfit, coupled with a pair of sturdy sneakers, was perfect for an evening spent on your feet, moving from one display to another.

As you adjusted the strap of your camera bag and pulled out your camera, the bustling art gallery buzzed around you. “Smileee,” you called out to Nayoung, who obliged with a fake grin and a thumbs-up. You rolled your eyes, she did not want to be here. She looked hot though, styled in her black mini dress and brown leather jacket

As you entered the gallery, the air was filled with the murmurs of impressed spectators and the soft, jazzy undertones of background music that added a sophisticated touch to the evening. The exhibition space was vibrant and packed, walls adorned with an array of artworks that ranged from abstract paintings to complex sculptures and daring installations.

Your eyes widened with genuine appreciation as you took in the scene. The exhibition was a canvas of creativity, each piece telling its own vivid story. Driven by your innate love for art, you began to ramble enthusiastically about the techniques and hidden meanings behind various artworks, pointing out the bold strokes and intricate details that might escape the untrained eye.

Nayoung, trailing slightly behind, matched your pace but not your enthusiasm. Her responses were polite, nodding along and offering the occasional “that’s really cool” or “wow,” though it was clear that her interest lay more in the social than the artistic aspects of the event. Despite this, she was there for you, you had dragged her here.

As you delved deeper into the nuances of a particularly captivating installation—a mixed media piece that utilised recycled materials to comment on consumer culture—Nayoung’s attention occasionally drifted. She was more absorbed in scanning the crowd, perhaps looking for familiar faces or simply taking in the overall ambiance.

You couldn’t help but launch into detailed explanations as you moved from one artwork to another, your enthusiasm bubbling over. “See the way the light is captured here?” you pointed out, gesturing toward a series of dramatic black-and-white photographs that explored the interplay of shadow and light. “It’s all about the angle and timing, which is something we discuss a lot in my music composition classes, except we’re capturing sound, not light.”

Nayoung trailed beside you, her interest clearly elsewhere. With a drink already in hand, thanks to the small flask she'd pulled from the pocket of her leather jacket, she took occasional sips, her other hand frequently fishing her phone out to check messages or scroll through her feed.

"Do you ever get tired of talking about brush strokes?" Nayoung teased, an exasperated but playful tone in her voice as she watched you analyze yet another painting. Her question hung in the air, punctuated by her taking another discreet sip from her flask.

Throughout the evening, Nayoung seemed more intent on steering the conversation away from art and towards more personal topics. "So, let's talk about Jeno," she says with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

You sigh inwardly, already anticipating where this conversation is headed. "No," you reply bluntly, hoping to steer the discussion away from your private life.

But Nayoung is undeterred. "Yes!" she insists, her tone teasing.

"So, in what position did he fuck you? How big is his cock?" she asks with a playful smirk, taking a sip of her drink.

You can't help but laugh at her audacity. "Nayoung, you've literally had sex with him. You know how big his cock is," you retort, rolling your eyes.

She tuts mockingly. "Who said I was looking?"

You shoot her a skeptical look. "If I tell you, will you finally leave me alone?" you challenge.

Nayoung nods eagerly, but you can tell she's not entirely sincere in her promise.

"We did it in missionary," you lie smoothly, not wanting to divulge too much. "And his cock? It's about two inches bigger than Eric's," you add truthfully.

Nayoung nearly chokes on her drink, her eyes widening in surprise. "It's that big?" she exclaims, clearly impressed.

You lean in closer, whispering, "You know how big it is! You fucked him too!"

Despite her promise to drop the subject, Nayoung continues to pester you, her questions becoming more probing with each passing moment.

"How was it? Did you feel anything when having sex with him? Anything deeper?" she inquires, her gaze fixated on you with an intensity that makes you uncomfortable.

You shake your head firmly, maintaining your composure. "Absolutely nothing," you lie smoothly, not yet ready to divulge the details of your encounter with Jeno-especially not the parts that still make your heart race just thinking about them.

While you were mid-sentence, breaking down the complexity of an abstract painting that caught your artistic eye, a movement at the entrance abruptly halted your train of thought. Jeno strolled in, he was impossible to miss, He had shifted the room's focus. He moved with an unassuming confidence that drew looks from every corner, a quiet testament to his presence. You watched, just for a moment, as all eyes flickered toward him.

He wore a plain white tee that seemed to accentuate his toned figure, paired with jeans that fit just right. His hair, effortlessly swept back, gave him a look that was both polished and carefree. Jaemin, his best friend, was by his side, the light catching his blonde hair, a relaxed figure in his hoodie. But it was Jeno who had stolen the moment, his mere presence causing your heart to skip a beat and your words to stumble into silence.

Reacting instinctively, you reached out and clasped Nayoung’s arm, diverting her mid-chuckle into a quick detour. “Let’s check out the sculptures,” you said hastily, feeling the weight of Jeno’s unintended intrusion tighten around your chest as you steered both yourself and Nayoung toward a distant corner of the gallery.

Concealed behind the angular shadows of a towering metal sculpture, you and Nayoung stood secluded from the gallery’s hum. Its cool, hard surface offered a strange comfort, a silent ally amidst the turmoil within you. Nayoung’s face, usually so composed, now mirrored concern. “Why are you hiding from him? Haven’t you talked to Jeno since that night?” Her voice, though soft, seemed to fill the entire space around you.

Leaning against the sculpture’s chill offered a small reprieve, its coldness a stark counter to the warmth flushing your skin. Words felt like distant things, hard to grasp, harder to voice. You responded not with words but with a faint shake of your head, the motion carrying the weight of unspoken confessions.

“Y/N, this is messy,” Nayoung said, her voice layered with a mix of reprimand and concern.

“He messages me,” you found your voice, albeit shaky, “tries to talk to me, to come up to me on campus.” The words felt heavy, laden with a confusion that seemed to cloud your thoughts.

Nayoung’s smile flickered with a glimmer of hope. “That’s good, right? It means he’s interested in you,” she reasoned, her smile fading into a frown as she caught the turmoil twisting your features.

You sucked in a breath, feeling trapped in the sculpture’s cast shadow, a dim refuge from the gallery’s soft lights. “I don’t know how to face him,” you admitted, your whisper barely rising above the hush of distant conversations. “That night was overwhelming, and now… now I’m just lost.”

“Why are you so scared if that night meant nothing to you?” Nayoung probed gently, her fingers interlacing with yours in a solid, warm grip.

You covered your face with your free hand, rubbing at your eyes as if you could wipe away the uncertainty. “I don’t know what it meant. I’m confused. It’s all just so intense, so much for my heart… I’ve never felt this way, and it’s terrifying.” The words tumbled out, a chaotic mix of fear and longing. “Every time I close my eyes, I see him.”

“I’m scared, Nayoung. I’m scared of what I’m feeling, of what all this might mean.” Your words hung suspended, resonating with the same enduring presence as the art around you.

Nayoung didn’t release your hand; instead, she drew you closer, a pillar of support in the echoing vastness of the gallery. “It’s okay to be scared,” she assured you. “But hiding here won’t answer any of your questions. You can’t let fear hold you back.” Her encouragement was soft but firm, a gentle push toward the clarity you so desperately needed.

You nod. As you step backward, ready to leave the comfort of the sculpture’s shadow, your movement is abruptly halted by a solid, unexpected barrier. A quick gasp escapes your lips as you spin around, words of apology already forming, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”

Your voice trails off when you see it’s Jeno you’ve bumped into. His presence, so close and unexpected, sends a jolt through you that’s part shock, part something more electric. For a split second, you’re frozen.

He stands mere inches away, his expression initially mirroring the tired detachment you’ve seen in Nayoung’s eyes tonight, suggesting he’d rather be anywhere but here. But the moment his gaze meets yours, something shifts. There’s a flicker of something more intense, more profound.

Your eyes lock with his for a fleeting second, and in that brief exchange, his look deepens, becoming electric and unreadable. The air around you thickens as if charged by this sudden connection, leaving your heart pounding not just with nervousness but with a bewildering rush of emotions that you can’t quite decipher. His presence envelops you, intense and palpable, drawing you into a moment you both seem reluctant to break, yet overwhelmed to sustain.

Jeno, dressed casually but looking every bit the effortless figure who haunts your quieter moments, just smiles slightly. His voice, when he speaks, is soft and carries an undertone of warmth that only adds to your turmoil. “It’s a beautiful sculpture, isn’t it?” he comments, his eyes lingering on yours, trying to capture your gaze.

You notice the slight upturn of his lips—a knowing, almost teasing smirk that suggests he might understand more than he lets on. But you can’t hold his gaze, your eyes darting away after a fleeting, charged moment of eye contact that sends an array of sensations coursing through you. It’s too much, too intense—every nerve ending seems to scream, your skin tingling from the nearness of him.

With a rushed, barely audible excuse, you stutter, “Sorry, gotta get to the lecture!!!” Your hand shoots out, finding Nayoung’s, and without waiting for a response, you pull her away from Jeno and the sculpture, eager to escape into the crowd. Nayoung follows without protest, casting an amused glance back at Jeno, who stands there watching you leave, his expression unreadable.

As you navigate through the throng of people, your pulse racing, you don’t dare look back. The brief interaction leaves you with a flood of emotions you’re not ready to dissect—not here, not now. Nayoung remains silent beside you, her presence a comforting constant as you put distance between yourself and Jeno. Your escape feels both like a victory and a defeat, the complex emotions swirling inside you mirroring the intricate artworks you leave behind.

Nayoung’s laughter echoed in the otherwise quieting atmosphere of the lecture hall as you both settled into the back left corner. “Would you stop?” you whispered harshly, crossing your arms and sinking lower into your seat, though a secret smile tugged at your lips for securing such a strategically secluded spot.

“I’m just happy we got the best seats in the house,” you added with a pout, pretending to sulk yet relieved by the thought that Jeno wouldn’t easily spot you here.

The hall gradually filled, the buzz of conversation growing as students gathered. Your heart skipped a beat when Jeno walked in, accompanied by Jaemin. They took seats a few rows ahead, seemingly unaware of your presence. You let out a silent breath, hoping to remain unnoticed.

Professor Doyoung, widely recognized as the best arts professor at the university, began the lecture with his usual charismatic flair. Today’s session was special—a celebration of student achievements, spotlighting various art pieces and sculptures. The room dimmed slightly as the projector lit up with images of student artwork.

Your pulse quickened when a photo of your own creation appeared on the screen. The room filled with murmurs of admiration, but your own heart pounded for an entirely different reason. “And here we have an outstanding piece by one of our brightest students,” Professor Doyoung announced, his voice filling the lecture hall with enthusiastic approval. “This innovative work was created by none other than Y/N, whose artistic vision and execution have consistently impressed us.”

As he showered you with praise, detailing the depth and creativity behind your work, a sense of pride mixed with intense embarrassment washed over you. It was meant to be an anonymous exhibition, yet here was Professor Doyoung, breaking protocol because he believed certain students deserved recognition for their efforts.

While you appreciated the acknowledgment, your cheeks burned hotter when Professor Doyoung, spotting you trying to sink further into your seat, pointed you out to the entire auditorium. “Let’s give a round of applause to Y/N, sitting right at the back there, for such a brilliant contribution!”

The audience’s applause thundered in your ears, but it was the sound of bodies shifting and heads turning that heightened your anxiety. Jeno turned around, his eyes scanning the crowd before settling on you. When your gazes locked, a silent jolt of electricity shot through you. His expression transformed from casual interest to a more intense, unreadable look, tinged with a hint of a smile that seemed both knowing and curious.

The world around you seemed to blur into the background as the two of you maintained eye contact. The warmth of his smile, despite the distance, sent waves of nerves dancing up your spine, mixing with a thrill that you couldn’t quite suppress. You felt exposed yet oddly seen, the kind of visibility that made your stomach twist yet somehow left you wanting more.

You averted your gaze first, looking down at your lap as your face heated up. Beside you, Nayoung nudged you gently, a silent gesture of support—or perhaps encouragement to acknowledge the connection you obviously had with Jeno, one that seemed to extend beyond mere academic coincidences.

The lecture continued, but your mind was elsewhere, caught up in the whirlwind of emotions triggered by that brief yet impactful exchange of looks with Jeno. Your heart still raced, not just from the public praise but because of him.

After the lecture, you spot Jaemin lingering near the front of the room. Despite sharing a few classes, your interactions had always been casual—pleasant exchanges about coursework and occasional class discussions. Jaemin was known for his calm demeanor, a stark contrast to Jeno’s more dynamic presence. Now, with your recent involvement with Jeno weighing on your mind, you find yourself curious about their friendship. They seemed like opposites yet clearly got along so well, everyone knew they were best friends, brothers even. Perhaps it was true what they said about opposites attracting.

As you’re methodically packing up your things, Jaemin approaches with a gentle ease that diminishes the room’s formality. His presence feels like a quiet reassurance in the noisy aftermath of the lecture.

“He went ahead, you don’t need to worry,” Jaemin says softly, noticing the tightness in your expression. It catches you off-guard how observant he is, how he seems to catch even the subtlest shifts in your mood.

You gulp, a bit flustered by his insight. “I—”

“I think he’s really intrigued by you, you know,” Jaemin continues, his voice warm and encouraging. “I don’t know why, but he seems genuinely interested in getting to know you better. You always seem to run the other way, though.” His smile is gentle, nudging you towards reconsideration without pushing too hard. “Maybe you should give him a chance; Jeno’s actually a decent guy.”

“I’m not intentionally trying to avoid him,” you confess, the words tumbling out in a rush. “He just… makes me nervous.”

Jaemin’s chuckle is soft, a sound that spreads calm. He reaches out, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder for a fleeting moment, grounding you. “He makes everyone nervous at first. You get used to it,” he reassures, his touch light but affirming. “Who knows, you might even start to like it. I know I like it.” You can’t help but giggle when he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

“I know it might seem like he’s intense, and yeah, he’s serious when it comes to things and people he cares about. But he’s also really chill once you get to know him better. He’s the kind of person you’d want in your corner,” he explains, his tone earnest.

“He doesn’t just give his attention and effort to anyone,” Jaemin continues, his eyes locking with yours to emphasise his point. “So don’t take it for granted or push him away. You might lose his interest forever, and trust me, you’d miss it. He’s someone you really want in your life. He's a really good guy..”

His comforting grin lingers as he steps back, giving you space to process his words. With a friendly nod, Jaemin walks away, leaving a trail of thoughtfulness behind him. His advice resonates with you, stirring a mix of anticipation and resolve. Maybe, just maybe, it was time to confront your nerves and see where things with Jeno could lead.

──────────────────────────────

The crisp morning air nips at your skin as you traverse the campus pathway, lost in the world curated by your playlist. With every sip of your coffee, you feel the warmth spread through you, contrasting with the coolness of the day. Your steps are unhurried, a rare moment of solitude embraced amidst the hustle of your life.

Suddenly, a gentle tap on your shoulder pulls you from your reverie. You pull out one earbud, turning to see Jeno standing behind you. Despite the flutter in your stomach, you remember Jaemin’s words: Don’t push him away. Taking a deep breath, you muster a smile, not just any smile, but one that reaches your eyes, showing Jeno you’re here in this moment with him.

“Hey,” Jeno greets, his voice smooth, drawing a line of warmth up your spine despite the autumn chill.

You manage a nod, trying to appear composed. “Hi, Jeno,” you reply, your voice steadier than you feel. His gaze is intense, and you find yourself unable to meet his eyes directly, focusing instead slightly over his shoulder.

As you walk together, Jeno’s voice breaks through the crisp air. “I’ve been trying to talk to you for the last month now…”

Every attempt he made to bridge the gap between you was met with your nervous laughter or hasty excuses. His presence—so wanted yet so overwhelming—left you fumbling, your words tripping over your rapid heartbeat. But today you would handle things differently.

Or so you wished.

His voice seemed to blend into the background, making it difficult to focus. “Are you free this weekend?” he asked, a simple question that felt loaded with possibilities. Is he asking you out? Or is this just casual?

The campus around you felt unusually constricted as pairs of eyes turned to follow your interaction, their stares prickling uncomfortably on your skin. The judgmental looks from passing students, especially from girls who eyed you with undisguised envy or disdain, made it challenging to concentrate on Jeno’s words.

Jeno closes the distance between you with a measured step, his presence enveloping you in a subtle but undeniable warmth. His fingers tuck a stray hair behind your ear, the contact tender yet anchoring, pulling you back to the moment. His eyes lock onto yours, his voice a soothing whisper, “Just ignore them. Just look at me.”

Your breath catches, the simple command resonating deeply as you murmur, “But they’re all looking at me. At us,” your voice trembles in the air.

He smiles softly, his thumbs gently stroking your cheeks as he holds your face with a careful, affectionate grip. “And I want you to look at me,” he insists, his gaze steady and piercing, radiating a calm confidence that makes your heart race yet somehow reassures you.

As Jeno's hands gently cradle your face, his thumbs softly caressing your skin, you find yourself nodding as he tells you to focus on him… The steady throb of your heart begins to calm, settling into a rhythm that feels less frantic, more in tune with the moment. Your eyes lock with his, and as you let yourself truly look at him, all fears begin to melt away. You lean slightly into the warmth of his touch, the tension in your body easing as you allow yourself to be anchored by his presence.

“Are you coming to Sunwoo’s party tonight?” he asks casually, his hands resting gently on your shoulders.

You give a small nod. “Maybe.”

“I hope you’re there,” he says, his tone sincere. “It gives me a reason to go.” He’s always so honest.

“Eric will be dealing, are you sure that’s not reason enough?”

He smirks. “Close second.”

──────────────────────────────

“It’s too much,” Yeji giggles shyly, running her hands over the dress she was going to wear tonight, in awe of the beautiful decorations and sparkles.

Her eyes moved to the brand new microphone Sunwoo had gifted her to congratulate her for winning the auditions and becoming the newest member of the band. “It's definitely too much, I didn't anticipate or expect any of this.”

You shake your head. “It’s not too much, you deserve it all.”

“Plus the dress is stunning, you’ll look beautiful,” you add. The dress was quite out there, adorned with sparkles and glitters. Yeji was definitely going to stand out and be the star of the show. “How did you get a dress as beautiful as that?” you ask.

“I don’t know… it just turned up to my door with a note telling me to wear it!” she responds.

“Sunwoo,” you respond immediately.

You both laugh. You know why he’s throwing this party randomly, with no warning or planning. It’s a surprise party for her, celebrating her joining the band. Sunwoo is welcoming her.

“I bet he buys dresses for all his girls,” she rolls her eyes as she slips into the dress.

“No, he doesn’t,” you say matter-of-factly, shaking your head in astonishment. Yeji was different for him. You could already feel that.

Applying the prettiest shade of pink to her cheeks, you couldn’t help but admire how blush looked so beautiful on Yeji. It complemented her complexion perfectly, adding a touch of radiance to her already glowing skin. As she examined herself in the mirror, a smile lit up her face, and you knew she was going to steal the show tonight.

“Aren’t you going?” she questioned, her eyes glancing over your pyjamas and messy bun.

You sighed softly, feeling the weight of exhaustion and a slight headache creeping in. “I don’t feel well,” you admitted, hoping she’d understand.

“No, you have to come. I’ll be nervous all there by myself,” she pleaded, her voice tinged with genuine concern.

Despite your reluctance, you couldn’t resist her puppy-dog eyes and the genuine warmth in her voice. Yeji had a way of making even the most mundane moments feel special, and you didn’t want to disappoint her.

“You won’t be by yourself,” you assured her with a smile, knowing Sunwoo and Eric would be there to keep her company.

Yeji was a new student, still adjusting to the rhythm of college life, but she had quickly become a familiar presence. Her easygoing nature and infectious enthusiasm had won over the hearts of many, including yours.

But she’s so sweet, and you couldn’t bear to see her disappointed.

“I’ll come,” you relented, knowing that her smile was worth it.

Her eyes lit up with excitement, and she practically bounced off the bed. “We need to get you ready,” she declared, already bustling around the room, gathering clothes and makeup.

As Yeji helps you pick out what to wear, her eyes light up when she spots a particular outfit. “This,” she exclaims, her gaze hungry as she holds up a daringly bold ensemble.

You feel your cheeks flush crimson at the sight of the revealing outfit. “That’s way too much,” you protest, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and excitement at her suggestion.

“But you’ll look so sexy though!” she insists, her excitement infectious as she imagines you rocking the outfit.

Despite your reservations, you can’t deny the thrill of the idea. “I don’t want to draw too much attention…” you murmur, but Yeji is already convincing you otherwise.

In the end, you settle on the cherry blossom pink mini dress she picked out, the soft hue flattering your complexion perfectly. As you change into the outfit, you can’t help but feel a surge of confidence wash over you. You opted for minimal makeup, you wanted to enhance your natural features, and soon you’re both admiring the stunning result in the mirror.

“Your wardrobe is so daring,” Yeji remarks, her eyes scanning through your clothes with awe.

──────────────────────────────

As you step into Sunwoo’s house, a wave of nervousness washes over you despite how familiar you are to this house. It’s practically your second home, yet tonight feels different somehow.

A rush of color and a buzz of activity immediately greet you. You walk through the entryway bathed in vibrant lighting that casts dynamic shadows across the textured, dark-stained wooden walls. The decorations hanging there are bold and modern, each piece making a statement with its bright colours and daring strokes.

Beneath your feet, dark hardwood floors stretch out, absorbing the light and noise, giving the house a grounded, almost intimate feel. In the living area, a group of people lounge on oversized furniture, upholstered in deep, rich tones, chatting over glasses of chilled drinks pulled from stacked ice coolers that blend seamlessly into the decor.

You walk to the backyard where the atmosphere shifts from subdued luxury to a lively party scene. The garden is lit by strategically placed neon lights that highlight the lush greenery with an almost surreal glow. Music pulses in the background, the bassline vibrating softly underfoot.

It was a chaotic blur of vibrant colours, pulsating music, and energetic bodies moving to the rhythm. The air is thick with the smell of alcohol and the haze of cigarette smoke, mingling with the scent of drugs and anticipation.

The sight of so many people, each lost in their own world of intoxication and euphoria, is both exhilarating and nerve-wracking. Everywhere you look, there are couples making out, friends sharing laughter and secrets, and strangers forging connections in the dimly lit corners of the room.

Amidst the chaos, you catch sight of Sunwoo, his expression dazed and his movements sluggish as he navigates through the crowd. He spots you and stumbles over, enveloping you in a drunken hug. “You actually came!” he slurs, planting a sloppy kiss on your forehead before his attention is quickly diverted to Yeji, already taking her hand and leading her somewhere.

As you weave through the lively crowd, the familiar laughter of Nayoung and Eunji draws you in like a beacon. You break into a wide smile, the tension melting away as soon as you see them, both teetering slightly, drinks in hand, their laughter filling the air.

“Heyyyy!” you shout over the music as you approach, arms open wide. They spot you and immediately stumble forward, nearly spilling their drinks in their excitement.

Eunji, with a tipsy grin, throws her arms around you, pulling you into a wobbly hug. “Oh my god, look at you, gorgeous!” she squeals, squeezing you tight. Nayoung joins in, her arms encircling both of you, her laughter contagious.

“We’ve been waiting for you!” Nayoung exclaims, her words slurring just a bit. She steps back to give you a once-over, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Look at you!!!” She whistles, holding your hand above and twirling you around.

As Jaemin’s advice echoes in your mind, you find yourself fully immersed in the party atmosphere. Surrounded by the pulsing lights and thumping bass, you allow yourself to embrace the carefree spirit of the night. You’re a college student—young, pretty, and ready to let loose. If everyone else can dive into the highs of a college party, why shouldn’t you?

One step at a time. You want to take things slow tonight, hoping to eventually join Nayoung and Eunji on the dance floor, dancing and laughing without a care. But for now, you need a few more drinks to help shake off your inhibitions. Sitting beside Eric, who's thankfully keeping you company, you feel a bit more anchored. He hands you a cup filled with your favourite drink—your first for the evening and hopefully the first of many.

"Y/N, I might be going crazy but everyone seems to be staring at you," he whispers, close enough for only you to hear. You hum in response, your eyes scanning the room. He's right. Unlike other nights where you blended into the background, tonight it feels like you're under a spotlight. Is it because of your earlier encounter with Jeno on campus? That thought unsettles you as you realise people had stared then, and they’re obviously staring now.

Not quite drunk enough to completely let go of your inhibitions, you feel the weight of the stares pushing you to the edge. "Let's dance!!!" you suddenly exclaim, seizing Eric's arm and pulling him towards the dance floor where Nayoung and Eunji are already lost in the rhythm. Eric follows, his surprise evident but quickly morphing into enthusiasm as you both join the lively crowd.

You join Nayoung and Eunji on the dance floor, their bodies moving freely to the rhythm of the music. Joining them, the three of you fall into sync, bodies swaying and twirling in a shared rhythm. The energy is infectious, and soon Eric joins in, the four of you forming a tight circle.

Laughter and song blend as you dance, the music enveloping you completely. There’s a moment of pure joy as you all grind against each other, singing at the top of your lungs, the world outside fading away. Tonight, it’s just you, your friends, and the music—nothing else matters.​

The relentless pace of the party begins to wear on you, and you wonder how your fellow students manage this every weekend. As your head starts to spin and a wave of dizziness washes over you, you realize you need a break. Muttering a quick excuse, you make your way to the quieter snacks section to catch your breath and steady yourself.

You smile when you see one of your favourite snacks, content to just munch on it, knowing Sunwoo got it just for you. Suddenly, he appears and checks on you, prompting a playful eye roll from you when you realise he’s been absent for the entire night. He was the host and was normally present but he was clearly occupied with Yeji.

You notice lipstick stains scattered across Sunwoo's neck, prompting a raised eyebrow from you. "You already fucked Yeji? Sunwoo, she hasn't even been in the band for a month—"

Sunwoo interrupts, "I haven't fucked her yet. We're just chilling in my room."

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Really?"

He smiles, nodding. "Yeah. I want to take it slow. I really like her."

Sunwoo puts his arm around your back, concern evident in his voice as he asks, "Are you okay? You look tired. You can go and rest in one of the spare rooms; if anyone's fucking there, I'll kick them out."

You raise an eyebrow, teasing, "You'll walk in on them having sex?"

He shrugs nonchalantly, but you barely register his response. Your attention is suddenly captured by someone else.

Jeno.

He's here, partying, and he looks hot. Your eyes instantly gravitate towards him, taking in his appearance. Jeno is wearing a fitted button down shirt that manages to accentuate his muscles and toned chest, a chain dangling from his neck, adding to his appeal.

You’re engulfed in a whirlwind of emotions, your heart somersaulting within your chest, each beat a drumroll of anticipation. A nervous energy courses through your veins, setting your skin ablaze with a feverish heat, as if every nerve ending is on high alert, tingling with anticipation. Despite your attempts to remain composed, you can’t shake the feeling of butterflies fluttering wildly in the pit of your stomach, a chaotic dance of excitement and nervousness.

He’s in his element, downing shots with ease, his movements fluid and effortless. Girls press against him, grinding against him, each one vying for his attention. Laughter fills the air and his smile makes your heart twist, his presence is so magnetic and captivating. Despite the chaos around him, he’s the calm in the storm, his confidence unwavering as he basks in the attention of those around him.

The party’s intensity overwhelms you as much as you don’t want to admit it. You can’t help but feel suffocated amidst the pounding music and throngs of people. You need a break. So, you slip away to one of the rooms in Sunwoo’s vast house, seeking solace from the chaos. You were sure no one would find you here, Sunwoo’s house was massive so it was easy to hide away.

This dimly lit room on the lowest floor is your sanctuary, a hidden refuge from the party’s noise. Sinking onto the plush couch, you find comfort in its soft cushions. Closing your eyes, you let out a sigh, feeling the weight of the world lift from your shoulders.

Surrounded by silence, your thoughts fill the space. Reflecting on the evening, you wish you could shed your self-consciousness, to join the fun without fear of judgement. But anxiety holds you back, trapping you in doubt.

Taking a deep breath, you try to let go. In this quiet room, you find peace, if only for a moment, amidst the chaos outside.

Parties always felt like too much for you. The noise, the crowds, the energy—it all overwhelmed you. You'd stand there awkwardly, like a wallflower, while everyone else seemed to thrive in the chaos. You wished you could just let loose, have fun without worrying so much.

The door creaks open, breaking the silence of the empty room. Startled, you look up to see Jeno standing there, his presence filling the space with an unexpected intensity. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, time seems to stand still as the connection between you sparks to life. You feel a flutter in your chest, an electrifying sensation that makes your breath catch in your throat. Unable to hold his gaze, you quickly look away, feeling a rush of heat flood your cheeks.

As Jeno steps into the room, his energy is different from the chaotic atmosphere of the party. It’s composed, calm, yet brimming with an underlying intensity that sends shivers down your spine. There’s something unspoken in the air, a silent understanding that hangs between you, pulling you closer despite the distance.

He takes a seat beside you, and when you steal a glance at him, you find his eyes already locked onto yours. The intensity of his gaze sends a jolt of electricity through you, and you can’t help but feel drawn to him, as if there’s an invisible thread connecting you both.

As his gaze bores into yours, it feels like he’s peeling away the layers of your soul, seeing you for who you truly are. It’s intense, electric, sending shivers down your spine and igniting a fire deep within. His eyes hold a mixture of curiosity, desire, and a hint of something more profound, leaving you breathless and longing for more.

In a soft voice that sends tingles down your spine, he asks, “Why aren’t you enjoying yourself? Why did you come?” His words are laced with concern, genuine and caring, yet there’s an underlying tone of desire that makes your heart race.

You can’t help but laugh nervously, the sound echoing in the quiet room. “I came for my friends, but I already regret it… I don’t know why I can’t let myself have fun, I really don’t know… I tried to let loose but I just can’t.” Your voice trails off, filled with uncertainty and self-doubt.

His response is like a bolt of lightning, unexpected and thrilling. “That’s a shame… The prettiest girl here tonight should be enjoying herself,” he says, his words dripping with charm and confidence. The way he looks at you, coupled with his bold statement, sends a rush of heat straight to your core.

Feeling a mixture of surprise and desire, you meet his gaze head-on, your eyes locking in a silent exchange filled with unspoken longing. “I-I…” you stutter, unable to form coherent words as his proximity overwhelms you. “I… thank you,” you manage to whisper, your cheeks flushing with heat as you avert your gaze, feeling his intense presence enveloping you like a warm embrace.

“But I’m definitely not the prettiest girl here tonight, not even close. Have you seen Yeji? Or Nayoung and Eunji? Or Karina? I even saw you dancing with her, and I don’t blame you if you left with her tonight because she’s breathtaking and—” Your words tumble out in a rush, cheeks flushing crimson as you realise how much you’ve said. Fortunately, he cuts you off with a forward tone, sending your heart racing again.

“You’re prettier than all of them,” he declares, his words laced with confidence and desire.

“Why aren’t you partying right now? Did you follow me here?” you question, narrowing your eyes at him. His chuckle sends shivers down your spine as he shakes his head. “I was partying, then I saw you and realised you were here. I saw Sunwoo with you and got distracted. I didn’t follow you, I just wanted to find a room that no one would be in, and that’s how I came here…” His words hang in the air, leaving you speechless and breathless.

As he moves closer, you feel your pulse quicken, his presence overwhelming yet comforting. “Why can’t you look me in the eyes?” he asks softly, his fingers gently lifting your chin to meet his gaze. You try to avert your eyes, but his touch guides your focus back to him.

“Why do you always look at me like that?” you finally muster the courage to whisper, the intensity of his gaze leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable.

“Like what?” he replies, his tone smug yet enticing, as if he’s enjoying the effect he has on you.

“Like you’ve seen me naked,” the words spill out, unfiltered and honest, hanging between you in the charged air. It feels like a confession, a secret desire laid bare, but instead of recoiling, he leans in closer, a smirk playing on his lips.

Without a word, he closes the distance between you, capturing your lips in a heated passion that sends sparks flying. His lips are warm and demanding against yours, moulding perfectly to fit as if they were made to kiss yours. The taste of him is intoxicating, a heady mix of brown sugar and whiskey that ignites a fire within you. Your hands instinctively find their way to the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his soft hair as you pull him closer, deepening the kiss.

There's a primal hunger in the way he kisses you, a raw, animalistic need that leaves you breathless and wanting more. His tongue dances with yours in a tantalising rhythm, exploring every crevice of your mouth as if he's trying to imprint himself on you.

Moans escape your lips as the kiss grows more fervent, the passion between you reaching a fever pitch. With a low growl, Jeno's hands roam over your body, tracing every curve and contour with deliberate intent. His touch ignites a fire within you, sending shivers down your spine as his fingers trail up and down your back, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

You can feel the heat between your bodies intensifying, the urgency of desire driving you closer together. As he pulls you onto his lap, you straddle him eagerly, the hardness of his arousal pressing against you, a potent reminder of the passion between you.

With each movement, Jeno grinds against you, his hips rocking in perfect synchrony with yours, creating a rhythm that sets your heart racing. The friction between your bodies sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, building the intensity of your desire with every touch. His hands guide your movements, urging you to grind against him with increasing urgency

"Good girl," he whispers against your ear, his voice husky with desire, sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. His words fuel the fire burning between you, igniting a primal hunger that demands to be sated.

You reach for the buttons of his shirt, unbuttoning with urgency while still grinding against him, your ass meeting his clothed thighs with every bounce. His hands grip the flesh underneath your dress, and you feel the tension in the air as you both lose yourselves in the moment. With a swift motion, his shirt is off, discarded in the heat of the passion that envelops you both.

As you look into his eyes, you see the same emotions reflected — lust, longing, want and need. You're consumed by the desire to pleasure him, to take him to the heights of ecstasy and beyond. With a primal urge coursing through your veins, you drop to your knees before him.

As you look up at him, a playful and innocent smile dancing on your lips, he groans in response, his reaction uncontrolled and raw. His moans escape him in a series of loud, guttural sounds, each one filled with the urgency of his desire and the pleasure coursing through him.

With a confident hand, you unzip his jeans, anticipation building with each tug of the zipper, until they're open and his arousal is straining against the fabric of his boxers. Pressing open-mouthed kisses to the fabric covering his cock, you revel in the feeling of his hardness beneath your lips, the heat of his desire seeping through the fabric. His reaction is immediate, a guttural groan escaping him as he feels your warm breath against his skin, the promise of pleasure tantalisingly close.

With a wicked grin, you tease him further, nipping at the edge of his boxers before slowly sliding them down, revealing his throbbing length in all its glory. The sight of him, hard and ready for you, only fuels your own desire, igniting a hunger that demands to be sated.

"You're driving me insane," he growls, his voice thick with desire as he locks eyes with you, the intensity of the moment igniting a fire between you. "Now, are you gonna suck my cock like the good girl you are?"

With a smirk playing on his lips, he teases you with his cock, tracing the tip along your parted lips. He grips his hardness firmly, using it to lightly slap against your eager mouth, the sensation sending shivers of excitement down your spine. Your mouth hangs open, ready and waiting for him, aching to feel him fill you completely.

With a hungry urgency, you take him into your mouth, your lips wrapping around him as you sink down onto his hardness. You touch each other all over, your hands exploring his body while his fingers tangle in your hair,

Your head bobs rhythmically, your mouth working him with skill and determination, each movement eliciting loud grunts and moans from him. He guides your movements with his hands, urging you to take him deeper, to suck him harder, to drive him to the brink of ecstasy.

"Fuck, that's it," he groans, his voice thick with desire as he watches you pleasure him. "Just like that, baby, take me all the way."

You comply eagerly, your hand tight around his length as you stroke and tease him, syncing your movements with the rhythm of your mouth for maximum pleasure. His rough and primal sounds of pleasure fill the air, spurring you on as you work him towards release.

But he wants more, needs more. With a sudden roughness, he tightens his grip on your hair, pulling you closer until your head is arched back, your neck exposed for him to take control. With a makeshift ponytail in his grasp, he guides your movements, angling your head for a better angle as he thrusts into your mouth with renewed intensity.

You surrender to his dominance, letting him guide you as he thrusts deeper into your mouth, each movement driving you both closer to the edge. Your senses are overwhelmed by the taste, the scent, the feeling of him filling you completely, and you revel in the primal pleasure of giving yourself over to him entirely.

"Fuck yes," he growls, his voice a primal command as he takes control. "Suck my cock, just like that. I want to feel you swallow me whole."

His grunts and moans grow louder, more urgent, as he approaches the pinnacle of his ecstasy. With one final, powerful thrust, he releases himself into your waiting mouth,

As you take his cum, you look up at him with eyes that are both desperate and satisfied, your mouth aching for more of him even as you savour the taste of his release. “That’s it, baby.” He strokes your hair softly, relishing in the feeling of you tasting his cum.

He whispers huskily, "take it all, baby... swallow every fucking drop."

You gaze up at him with a mix of desire and vulnerability, your eyes pleading and soft. He feels a primal urge stir deep within him. The sight of you, so desperately wanting, ignites a fire in his veins and a fluttering feeling in his chest.

With a growl of need, he effortlessly lifts you from the floor, his strength undeniable as he pulls you into his arms. Lowering you onto his lap, he holds you close, his hands roaming over your body with possessive urgency. Each touch is rough yet tender, a silent declaration of his desire to claim you as his own. And as he pulls you closer, the heat between you intensifies, the air thick with anticipation and need.

In his hold, your bodies meld together, hips moving in a primal rhythm, grinding against each other with an urgency that borders on desperation. As your lips meet, it's a clash of tongues and teeth, a passionate exchange that leaves you both breathless. Moans and sighs escape between kisses, mingling with the sound of your heavy breathing as you lose yourselves in the moment.

Breaking apart briefly, you pant against his lips, your desire evident in every ragged breath. "I wanna fuck you so badly, please," you whisper, your voice a husky plea.

With a low growl of desire, he meets your gaze, his eyes smouldering with need. "Ride my cock, baby," he commands, his voice rough with urgency as he guides your hips, urging you to take control.

His hands move with purpose as he pulls your dress up to bunch around your waist. His fingers deftly unzip the back of your dress, exposing your back and revealing your breasts, a sight that only fuels his desire further. With a primal need, he leans down to pepper kisses along your exposed neck, his lips trailing a path of fire along your skin.

You feel the pulsating heat of his arousal throbbing against your dripping core as you lower yourself onto his cock. A primal moan escapes his lips as you take him deep inside, your walls greedily enveloping him in a tight, wet embrace. With each downward thrust, you revel in the sensation of him stretching you, filling you completely, sending sparks of ecstasy coursing through your veins.

"That’s it," he groans, his voice husky with desire as he grips your hips, urging you to ride him harder. "You take me so well." He praises, leaning forward to press a kiss to your cheek.

Your bodies move together in a frenzied rhythm, the sound of your skin slapping against his filling the room with the symphony of your passion. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure crashing over you, your senses overwhelmed by the intoxicating heat between you.

Your breasts bounce in front of him, a tempting display that drives him wild with need. He reaches up to grasp them, his fingers kneading and teasing your sensitive flesh, sending bolts of pleasure shooting straight to your core.

"You’re so fucking hot," he growls, his voice rough with urgency as he meets your gaze, his eyes burning with unbridled lust.

With each bounce on his cock, you relentlessly ride him, your bodies colliding with the sound of skin slapping against skin. The sensation of him filling you completely, stretching you to your limits, is overwhelming, a delicious tightness that leaves you breathless with desire.

Jeno can't help but marvel at how impossibly tight you feel around him. Every inch of his cock is enveloped in the warm, velvety embrace of your pussy, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through him with each thrust.

Your walls grip him with an intensity that leaves him breathless, a sensation so exquisite it borders on agonizing. He can feel every twitch, every ripple of your inner muscles as you ride him relentlessly, driving him to the brink of ecstasy with your insatiable hunger.

As the intensity of your rhythm escalates, the impending release becomes undeniable. "Jeno, Jeno," you gasp, your voice barely audible as you cling to him, the sensations overwhelming.

He meets your gaze with a primal hunger, his own need evident in the depths of his eyes. "I know, I know," he growls, his voice strained with urgency. With synchronised movements, you both reach the peak together. Your bodies tremble with the force of your climax, every nerve ending ablaze with pleasure.

"I'm cumming!" you cry out, your voice echoing in the room as your walls clamp down around him, milking him for every drop of pleasure. Jeno's own release follows suit, his moans mingling with yours as he spills himself into you, filling you with his warmth.

As you reach up to gently brush the hair away from his face, you notice a change in Jeno’s demeanour. His features soften, his expression becoming more relaxed and carefree under your touch. An unspoken tension, one that he didn’t even realise he was carrying, was released, leaving him looking more casual and at ease. Under your hold, you can feel the satisfaction coursing through you, you did this to him.

“Are you tired?” he asks sweetly, his voice laced with concern as he looks down at you.

You shake your head with a shy smile, reassured by the warmth in his gaze.

But before you can say anything else, he surprises you by suddenly lifting you effortlessly into his arms, turning you around with a speed that leaves you yelping in surprise. The sudden movement catches you off guard, a rush of exhilaration and excitement coursing through you as you find yourself wrapped up in his embrace.

As Jeno holds you in his arms, you feel a surge of exhilaration mixed with a potent cocktail of desire and trust. His strong and steady embrace grounds you, his warmth enveloping you in a sense of security and anticipation.

“Do you trust me, beautiful?” His whispered words send shivers down your spine. You nod eagerly in response. His kiss on the side of your head ignites a fire within you, fueling your desire and surrender.

Positioning himself behind you, Jeno aligns his throbbing cock with your eager entrance. With a primal growl that resonates deep within your core, he thrusts forward, driving deep into you as he supports your weight effortlessly.

His hands grip your hips firmly, guiding the rhythm of your movements with precision and intensity. Each thrust is a calculated display of strength and control, hitting all the right spots with a relentless pace that leaves you breathless and wanting more.

Despite carrying you, his movements are powerful and controlled, each thrust driving you closer to the edge of ecstasy. The sensation of him deep inside you, his cock driving into you with primal intensity, is overwhelming and intoxicating.

With each thrust, he emphasises his strength, his dominance evident in every movement as he holds you close to him, his body pressed against yours. The slickness of your combined arousal acts as a natural lubricant, enhancing the pleasure of each thrust and driving you both closer to the brink of release.

In the heat of the moment, Jeno’s dominance takes centre stage as his fingers entwine themselves in your hair, firmly grasping a fistful of your locks. With each deliberate tug, he exerts his control over the pace and intensity of your movements, guiding you with a commanding yet sensual grip. As he pulls you closer, you can feel the electric tension building.

With each rhythmic movement, his hand connects with your flesh, delivering a sharp, stinging sensation that ignites your senses. The contrast between the gentle glide of his thrusts and the sudden impact of his hand sends jolts of pleasure racing through your body, heightening the intensity of the experience. Each spank leaves behind a lingering warmth, a tangible reminder of his dominance and your shared desire. As the sensations wash over you, you find yourself surrendering to the raw passion of the moment, lost in the electrifying connection between you and Jeno

With your hands securely pinned behind your back, you’re completely at his mercy, unable to move or resist as he takes you with an intoxicating blend of strength and desire. His muscles ripple with every movement, his veins pulsating with the intensity of his passion. His arms wrap around you, holding you close, his biceps flexing with each powerful thrust. You can feel the heat of his body against yours, his primal energy consuming you as he claims you as his own. In his embrace, you’re lost in a whirlwind of pleasure and surrender, utterly captivated by the raw masculinity of his touch.

He’s crazy. With each sharp slap to your cheek and each forceful tug of your hair, there’s a gentleness in his soft kisses grazing your cheeks. Amidst the heat of passion, he whispers sweet nothings in your ear, his breath warm against your skin.

You find yourself on the brink of ecstasy, your body writhing with desire as you whimper, “Please, I need to cum.”

Jeno’s response is immediate, his deep whisper urging you on, “Cum for me, that’s my good girl.”

With renewed intensity, he thrusts harder, driving you to the edge and beyond. Finally, as the pleasure overwhelms you, you reach the pinnacle of bliss, and with a primal cry, you release, your climax crashing over you like a tidal wave. In that moment of euphoria, you feel Jeno’s own release, his body tensing against yours as he joins you in ecstasy, the culmination of your shared passion leaving you both breathless and spent.

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Jeno’s house is not what you expected.

The cool evening air brushes against your skin as you approach Jeno’s place, his hand gently holding yours. He’d asked if you were comfortable coming over after the party, and something in his gaze made it impossible to say no. As you near his home, you’re taken aback by its appearance. Unlike the typical cramped student accommodations, Jeno’s house boasts a spacious front porch, its design minimalist but striking with shades of grey and sharp black accents.

“I live with a few other guys… it’s not all mine,” Jeno chuckles, noticing your wide-eyed wonder. His laughter eases the awe that had momentarily seized you.

“Who do you live with?” you ask, glancing around the spacious interior curiously.

Jeno chuckles, leading you through the open layout of the living room. “Jaemin, Renjun, and Donghyuck. Shotaro and Yangyang practically live here too, though. It’s a big place, it never really feels crowded… the more, the better, actually,” he explains, his voice echoing slightly in the expansive space.

He continues, a smirk playing on his lips as he mentions Donghyuck. “Donghyuck can be a real pain sometimes, he’s the one who keeps telling me you’re some Christian virgin but I tell him to shut up and hit him.” He says nonchalantly while you let out giggle. “But he’s one of my best friends. Always keeps things interesting around here.” He laughs softly, shaking his head at some unspoken memory.

“As for Renjun, he’s the quiet, mysterious type. Doesn’t talk much, but he’s reliable, always there when you need him.” He adds thoughtfully.

“Are they your best friends?” you ask, intrigued by the warmth in his voice when he speaks of them.

He nods, his expression softening. “Yeah, they’re the people I’m closest to. We’ve been through a lot together—it’s like having a second family, you know?”

“And Jaemin?” you ask, knowing he was closest to him out of all people

“I love Jaemin.” He responds quickly and surely.

“Awww.” You coo.

Jeno’s expression softens. “Yeah, Jaemin and I go way back. He’s one of those friends who’s seen you at your worst and still thinks the best of you,” he explains with a laugh. “I’ve known him the longest. He has this way of keeping me grounded, especially when things start to feel overwhelming. His voice is so calm and he’s always so understanding, I’ll always be so thankful for him.”

He shifts slightly, his enthusiasm growing as he talks about his friend. “We don’t always have to talk to communicate. All we need to do is look in each other's eyes and we know what the other is thinking.”

He says it so seriously but you can’t help but snort. “That’s incredibly romantic.”

He rolls his eyes, a sign he’s used to that response whenever he speaks about Jaemin.

He takes you inside, then leads you on a brief tour, his hand still warm in yours. “My favourite part, the kitchen,” he announces as you step into a sleek, modern space. The kitchen is a testament to minimalist design, dominated by grey tones with vibrant blue accents that add a playful splash of color. The clean lines and uncluttered surfaces reflect a sense of order and style.

“You cook?” you ask, genuinely surprised by the sophisticated setup.

“Do I cook?” he repeats with a raised eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I’m the best cook around.”

The confidence in his voice sparks a smile on your face. “You’re gonna have to cook for me one day,” you say, the words slipping out more comfortably than you expected. It feels natural, easy even and you just allow it to happen.

“Yeah, I’ll make it my best work,” he responds, his smile broadening. He looks down at you with a warmth that makes your heart flutter slightly.

As you and Jeno chat comfortably in the kitchen, the sudden sound of footsteps causes you to startle. Before your nerves can fully spike, you realize it’s Jaemin entering the room. He seems nonchalant, sporting headphones and munching on popcorn, oblivious—or perhaps indifferent—to your presence.

Jaemin’s casual demeanour initially leaves you wondering if this is a common scene for him, witnessing Jeno with company. Jeno, for his part, doesn’t seem surprised or perturbed by his friend’s appearance, reinforcing the depth of their friendship. They’re comfortable around each other, sharing a living space without the constant need to fill it with conversation.

However, the quiet moment shifts as Jaemin finally acknowledges the room. He pulls one earbud out, glancing up from his phone with a mischievous smirk. His eyes flicker between your entwined hands and both your faces, a hint of amusement in his gaze. “Don’t start fucking each other against the countertop. I just cleaned it,” he quips, his tone light but pointed.

Jeno simply rolls his eyes, a small laugh escaping him as he looks at you, unfazed by Jaemin’s comment. “Ignore him,” he advises with a grin, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “He always loves to tease.”​

Some time passes and Jeno leads you to the third floor, to his room. When he pushes open the door, a sense of tranquillity washes over you. The room is meticulously curated, the white walls pristine, exuding an aura of calm and control. Your eyes immediately travel to the bed, high-set with a soft charcoal comforter. Above his bed, an abstract painting commands attention—its tempestuous strokes of blues and greys mirroring the complexity within Jeno himself.

On one side, a sleek desk stands, supporting a high-powered computer with dual monitors. A nearby shelf holds a collection of engineering textbooks and a scattering of eclectic reads, your eyes lighting when you see some of your own favourite books.

The room’s ambiance is carefully controlled, LED strips casting an intentional glow, highlighting the books and illuminating a space that is both a study and a sanctuary. His headphones lie within reach, resting comfortably on its own stand.

As Jeno’s voice breaks the quiet, you realise he’s been watching you take it all in. “Do you want to change into something more comfortable?”

You nod but then your smile falters. “I didn’t bring anything —”

Before you can finish, Jeno is pulling out one of his black hoodies, his movements smooth and assured. You accept it with a quiet “thank you,” your fingers brushing against his as you take it.

The moment’s calmness is palpable as you sit on the edge of Jeno’s bed, the comforter cool beneath you. Jeno bends down to retrieve a couple of drinks and snacks from a compact compartment below, something you hadn’t noticed in his room prior. With a fluid motion that suggests familiarity, he pops open your drink using his teeth, his hands full, and hands it to you.

Does he realise how hot that was?

“What do you want to watch?” he asks, turning to face you with the remote in hand.

You shrug playfully, “You choose.” A grin spreads across your face as you hear the faint clicks of him browsing through the movie selections.

As Jeno fiddles with the projector, the soft glow of the screen illuminates the room, casting playful shadows around his minimalist space. You settle more comfortably into his bed, pulling a cushion under your arm.

Your giggle fills the room when you see his choice pop up on the screen— Lemonade Mouth. It’s unexpected, and his reasoning makes you chuckle even more. “Seems fitting to watch the most iconic movie about a band with the hottest and coolest band member I know,” he explains, a teasing tone in his voice.

“It’s an amazing movie,” you whisper, sinking deeper into his bed, drawing the comforter up to your chin. You’re so engrossed in the opening scene that you don’t notice Jeno’s gaze lingering on you, his attention only half on the movie.

The film’s lighthearted humour unexpectedly draws peals of laughter from you, your giggles echoing in the quiet room. It’s endearing to Jeno, how easily you find joy in simple moments.

“Did you guys start your band in detention too?” he jokes, referencing the plot of the movie, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

You shake your head, still smiling. “No, we started it because Sunwoo lost a bet. We’ve only been a band for like… less than a year.”

Settling back, he watches you more than the movie, a soft smile playing on his lips as he enjoys your reactions just as much as the film itself. The evening unfolds with a gentle, easy magic, the kind that seems to pause time just for the two of you.

As the characters in Lemonade Mouth rally together for their iconic ‘Determinate’ performance, Jeno chuckles, pointing at the screen. “Can Sunwoo and Eric rap like that?” he asks, genuinely curious yet teasingly.

You laugh, the sound is light and easy. “Both, actually. Especially Sunwoo—he’s surprisingly good. But he can’t ever be serious about it. I swear, half the time, I can’t take him seriously at all, and I can’t believe he’s in a band.”

Jeno’s laughter joins yours, creating a symphony of amusement that fills the room. “That must make rehearsals interesting,” he comments, imagining the scene.

“It’s like managing a group of kids sometimes.” You deadpan, eyes twinkling with the memories of countless rehearsals.

As the movie winds down and the room dims with the soft light of the credits rolling, your eyelids grow heavy. Nestled comfortably under his covers, you find the cosy warmth too inviting, your voice barely above a whisper, “Can I stay here tonight?” You’re already sinking deeper into the cushion of his pillow, the fatigue of the night drawing you closer to sleep.

Jeno’s response comes with a gentle chuckle, warm and reassuring. “Yeah, you can,” he smiles, the softness in his voice making it clear you didn’t even need to ask. As you nestle in, he reaches out, his touch light as he brushes his hand over your cheek. “Don’t you wanna remove your makeup before you sleep?” he asks, his concern tender.

You groan softly. “Can’t be bothered,” you mumble.

Without hesitation, Jeno offers, “I’ll do it for you.” He pulls open a drawer, retrieving cotton pads and makeup remover. His movements pause as his fingers brush over the items—remnants of past routines, he frowns, breathing in deeply before letting it out. Not tonight, not now.

He gently turns your face towards him, ensuring not to disturb you too much as your eyelids flutter in the struggle to stay awake. With care and immense attentiveness, he begins to dab at your face, removing the makeup with strokes so soft they could be mistaken for a caress. Each motion is careful, ensuring not to tug at your skin, his touch as light as air.

“So pretty,” he whispers, his voice a hush in the quiet room. He finds you absolutely breathtaking like this, bare-faced and in his hoodie, resting on his side of the bed. Normally he doesn’t let anyone sleep on his side of his bed, but with you, he decides to make an exception.

Jeno reaches for a spare blanket and pillow, throwing both onto the couch beside his bed but just as he turns to leave, your hand reaches out, catching his wrist with a gentle, yet firm grip, your fingernails embedded in his wrists slightly.

“Don’t go,” you murmur, the softness of your voice masking the intensity of your plea.

He pauses, turning back with a chuckle. “I sleep here all the time, it’s fine,” he assures you, his voice a blend of amusement and comfort.

But tonight, you want him closer. “I want you to stay,”

Jeno sighs, a sound of subtle delight, he can’t argue with that. as he slides into the bed beside you. “You’re kinda on my side of the bed,” he teases, a playful note in his voice that makes you smile in the dimly lit room.

“Come closer then,” you whisper back, shifting to make room and tossing the spare pillow off the bed. Your arms open, inviting him into a more intimate embrace. He obliges without hesitation, his hands finding their way to the small of your back, his fingers trailing along your skin as he pulls you closer, the heat of his breath mingling with yours.

You wrap your arms around him, pulling him close. The fabric of his shirt is soft under your fingertips, and you trace patterns absentmindedly as you both adjust into a comfortable cuddle. His presence is a calming force, and you feel the earlier tension of the evening begin to dissipate.

The proximity is electrifying yet soothing, with his breath rhythmic and steady against the side of your face. “This is better,” you admit, your voice a soft confession in the quiet of the room.

“Yeah?” he murmurs, his breath tickling your ear. His hand finds its way to your hair, fingers gently sifting through the strands, a touch that sends shivers down your spine.

“Mmm,” you hum in response, content and a little more daring as the night deepens. “I like having you close,” you continue, the words spilling out with a vulnerability that feels right in the moment.

Jeno’s response is a gentle squeeze of his arms around you, pulling you even closer. “I’m not going anywhere,” he assures you, his voice a low rumble that you feel rather than hear. His hand trails down your back, settling with a comforting weight that anchors you to the moment, to him.

The morning after, sunlight sneaks through the curtains, painting the sheets in a warm glow. You wake up to find yourself comfortably nestled in Jeno’s arms, his arms secure around you. Is it the bed or his strong embrace making you feel so cozy?

You feel his warm breath on your skin as Jeno leans in to kiss you, his lips hovering just inches from yours. But before he can make contact, you blurt out the question that catches him off guard.

“How did you find fucking me?” you ask, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

He pauses, his lips lingering near yours for a moment before he chuckles softly. “Good morning to you too,” he replies, giving you a quick peck on the lips.

“Was I good?” you press, your heart pounding in your chest.

Jeno plays with your earrings, his touch sending shivers down your spine. “Really good,” he admits, his voice husky with desire.

“Really?” you can’t help but sound a bit silly, your insecurities bubbling to the surface.

“There’s a reason I kept calling you my ‘good girl’,” he reassures you, his words sending a flutter of excitement through you.

You giggle at his response, feeling a surge of confidence wash over you. “I mean, who taught you how to suck cock like that?” he teases, wiggling your eyebrows playfully.

“I’m self-taught,” you continue, a mischievous grin spreading across your face. “No one needs to teach me.”

He moves his body on top of you, his gaze smouldering with desire. “Do you want to show me what else you’ve learned?” he asks, his voice low and husky with anticipation. His eyes lighting when you nod eagerly.

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You fidget with the hem of Jeno’s hoodie as you descend the stairs, the fabric soft against your skin but heavy with the weight of the night before. Hickeys dot your neck, a visible reminder of the passion that unfolded in the quiet of his room. Jeno follows closely behind, his hand finding the small of your back, a silent assurance as you step into the heart of his home.

The kitchen buzzes with morning activity, the air thick with the scent of coffee and the low hum of conversation. It’s a stark contrast to the serene isolation of Jeno’s bedroom. You’re not prepared for the burst of energy that greets you, but then again, you should have expected it. Jeno’s housemates, a notorious and eclectic group known campus-wide, are gathered around the island, their presence as commanding as their reputations.

Jaemin spots you first, his eyes lighting up with mischief. “Good morning, did you sleep well? Or should I say, fuck well?” he teases, winking at you with a grin that spells trouble.

Donghyuck stands, clapping dramatically as he eyes the marks on your neck. “Oh, look, someone lost their virginity!” he declares, earning a chorus of laughs from the others.

You shoot him an annoyed look, choosing not to engage with his antics. Renjun leans against the counter, a smirk playing on his lips. “Did he fuck you do hard that you couldn’t make a sound? We didn’t hear a peep last night,” he adds, his voice dripping with mock concern.

Despite the barrage of teasing, Jeno remains unfazed. He steps closer, his arm snaking around you, pulling you to his side. His presence is a wall against the playful onslaught. “Ignore them,” he murmurs, his voice low and comforting by your ear, leaving a soft kiss on your cheek.

You feel a tightness in your chest as their chatter swirls around you, the familiarity and ease of Jeno’s friends contrasting sharply with your own nervousness. You cling slightly to Jeno, tightening your grip on his arm. You manage a small smile, avoiding direct eye contact with the group, your gaze flickering between the countertop and the mug you’re now holding.

With a soft touch, he leans down, his breath warm against your ear. "Hey, just take a deep breath, okay? They really like you," he whispers just for you, the reassuring tone blending with the underlying rumble of his voice. He guides you subtly to stand slightly behind him.

You nod, managing a shy smile as you lean into his protective form, feeling the tension begin to ease. The physical closeness, Jeno's body shielding yours, brings a quiet comfort that helps you relax into the moment, the earlier apprehension slowly melting away under his attentive care.

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As the weeks pass, your interactions with Jeno become increasingly frequent and intense. You find yourself actively seeking him out. You’ve spent endless nights in his house, in his room. Endless laughter and soft touches weave between you, gradually building a deeper connection. Days without seeing him leave a noticeable void, highlighting just how integral he has become to your daily life.

Lee Jeno was not what you expected, he was better, he left you breathless. He had effortlessly evolved into a constant presence in your world. His ability to make you laugh and smile becomes a cherished aspect of your days together. You don’t shut up around him; it’s something he wasn’t expecting. He finds it endearing, how much you babble and talk. You simply share every thought and feeling with him — unmasked and raw. It was a massive difference to the shy girl who never used to be able to look him in the eyes.

(You still struggle making direct eye contact with him though).

You don’t know how it happened so quickly, but you begin trusting him and instinctively needing him around before actively realizing it. It was your bodies and minds’ natural response.

In getting to know Jeno, you discover a multitude of shared interests, from music and literature to movies and even Lego sets. Yet, it's the differences that add depth to your connection. Jeno exuded confidence, his outgoing nature and commanding presence drawing you in. He knew how to navigate any situation with ease, always in control and never at a loss for words.

Yet, alongside his confidence was a wild streak that ignited a fire within you. He embraced the thrill of indulging in drugs, drinking, sex and getting high, finding euphoria in the freedom of letting loose. His uninhibited nature was undeniably attractive, adding to the magnetic pull you felt towards him.

Despite his wild side, Jeno displayed a remarkable intellect and dedication to his studies. He approached engineering with a seriousness that spoke to his ambition and drive. Behind his cool exterior lay a focused individual with clear goals and aspirations for the future. This combination of intelligence, ambition, and spontaneity only served to deepen your admiration for him.

You also love when he kisses you.

The entire world melts away in those moments, as his soft lips meet yours in a dance of warmth and affection. Each kiss is filled with smiles and unspoken promises, drawing you closer to him with every tender touch. The closeness you share in those stolen moments is everything you’ve ever dreamed of and more.

It happens often—more often than you would have expected. You find yourselves kissing, making out, lost in each other’s embrace, more frequently than you could have imagined. Yet, despite the overwhelming desire that burns between you, you haven’t been able to take that next step.

Do you want to have sex with him again? Yes, without a doubt. The thought of being intimate with him again sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine. But have you been able to? No. And why? The answer eludes you, buried beneath layers of uncertainty and hesitation.

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You meet his eyes through the reflection in the mirror, the anticipation palpable in the charged air between you. His hands trail down the curve of your back. As he zips up the back of your dress and places your necklace around your neck, his whispered words send a wave of bliss coursing through you.

“You look beautiful,” he murmurs into your ear, arching your neck to meet his eyes directly now. his lips pressing against yours with longing, roughness, and breathlessness all at once. You moan softly into his mouth, your fingers instinctively fisting in his hair as he effortlessly picks you up, your legs immediately wrapping around his waist.

With a sense of urgency, he guides you to the chair by his desk, both of you breathless and eager for more. You straddle him, the heat of your bodies igniting as you grind against each other. As the cool metal of the zipper trails down the small of your back, a shiver runs through you—mixed, not with the anticipated thrill, but an unsettling trepidation. Your breath hitches, caught in the tangle of your conflicting desires. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? The question haunts the fringes of your mind, echoing with each inch of fabric that parts under his fingers.

He pauses, and the room suddenly feels too small, the air too thick. You can feel his gaze, heavy with concern, as he leans back to look at you. It’s a careful, searching look, one that seems to pierce right through the façade of readiness you’ve put up. “What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice low, a soft thread in the tense silence.

Your heart pounds louder, faster, betraying your outward calm. Embarrassment flushes your cheeks as you meet his eyes—so full of worry now. Why can’t you just be okay with this? The frustration at yourself bubbles up, sour and accusing. You feel exposed, not just in flesh but in spirit, as if he’s peeling back layers you’re not ready to shed.

You open your mouth to speak, to explain, but the words dissolve into a heavy breath. His concern deepens, the atmosphere shifts; it’s no longer just about desire, but about the raw, unmasked corners of vulnerability. “Y/N,” he says, and it’s gentle, almost reverent.

In that moment, caught between wanting and uncertainty, you realize the gravity of intimacy—not just the physical merging, but the emotional exposure. It’s not just bodies that are laid bare in such encounters, but hearts and hidden fears, all intertwined.

He catches every faltering word, his expression softened by an empathetic understanding that seems to wrap around you like a warm blanket. “It’s okay. You don’t need to say sorry,” he reassures you, his voice steady, a stark contrast to the tremble in your own.

You glance up at him, the turmoil inside bubbling over. “No, I do… I do want to have sex with you, I think I do but something is holding me back. Something doesn’t feel right inside of me, and I don’t know what it is. I just feel weird, I feel tense, my anxiety has never felt this high.” The words spill out in a rush, your voice cracking under the strain of the heavy, churning emotions.

“I feel nauseous. I’m sorry… I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable or guilty. I’m really sorry.” You mumble, biting your lip to hold back the tears that threaten to break free. Guilt gnaws at you, twisting tighter with each apology, fearing how your words might weigh on him.

He listens, his eyes never leaving yours, not even for a moment. There’s no hint of frustration or judgement, only deep, unwavering patience. “You don’t need to say sorry to me about that, or explain yourself to me, ever,” he responds, his tone firm yet gentle. It’s comforting, like a steady anchor in the tumultuous sea of your emotions.

“I know what you’re feeling. Having sex does take a toll on your body and mind. It can be a lot mentally. You don’t need to explain yourself to me because I will always understand, okay? Just tell me if anything is making you uncomfortable and don’t ever feel guilty about it.” His assurance is a soothing balm, addressing not just the immediate anxiety but acknowledging the broader, often unspoken pressures that come with intimacy.

The room stills, the earlier tension slowly dissipating as his words settle over you. You nod, a silent acknowledgment of his kindness. In this moment, the physical space between you is charged with a new, quiet intimacy—a connection not of bodies, but of souls understanding each other in profound silence.

His hand reaches out, brushing a stray tear from your cheek with a tenderness that makes your heart swell. It’s a simple gesture, yet it speaks volumes, reinforcing the safety and acceptance in his presence. It’s not about what happens next, or what didn’t happen tonight. It’s about being seen, understood, and cared for without conditions. And in that understanding, the heavy cloak of anxiety begins to lift, replaced by a lighter, more hopeful sensation—a whisper of peace amidst the storm.

“Do you still wanna go or do you wanna stay here and chill for the night?” he asks, his voice gentle, leaning in close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath. His eyes search yours for an answer, patient and undemanding.

You smile, a wave of relief washing over you at how understanding he is. “Of course I still want to go.” You respond, your voice steady but soft. There’s comfort in his presence, a safety that peels back the layers of guard you’ve meticulously built around yourself. For a moment, you hold his gaze, seeing the sincerity and warmth that flicker in his eyes, revealing his true intentions. It’s this truth that captivates you, locking your eyes with his and making the world around you fade.

He nods, a small, understanding smile playing on his lips. Standing, he offers his hand, and you place yours in it, feeling a rush of warmth from his touch. His hand is strong and secure around yours, a contrast to the smooth, gentle hold that sends a thrill up your arm. As he leads you through the crowd, you can’t help but notice the confident way he moves—each stride purposeful and assured, his shoulders relaxed yet commanding presence. The feeling of your hand in his—a delicate yet perfect fit—makes your heartbeat a little faster.

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As time passed, Jeno’s friends became an integral part of your life, their presence a constant presence in your shared moments. You found yourself spending more and more time at his house, naturally integrating yourself into his circle of friends. Initially intimidating, you soon discovered that they had big hearts and welcomed you with open arms

Jeno also bonded with your friends, although it got a bit awkward considering he had fucked Nayoung and Eunji before, it’s not shocking, he has a high body count. It wasn’t easy to forget that the way he met you was through Nayoung, through his initial interest in her. But it was clear that boundaries were now set, and he viewed them as your friends specifically.

Jeno exuded an unexpected chill vibe that effortlessly drew people to him. He possessed a natural charisma that made it easy for him to get along with everyone, though not in a desperate, boundary-less way. Rather, he was the type who genuinely wanted to keep everyone happy and safe, yet he also harbored a darker, more defensive side. If you crossed him or someone he cared about, he wouldn’t hesitate to assert himself.

His presence was magnetic, with eyes following him wherever he went. Being around him was like basking in sunshine—impossible not to smile, to feel light and happy, to keep your eyes fixed on him with a wide smile. That’s why you warmed up to him so easily. His ability to effortlessly connect with your friends was incredibly hot, and seeing him make an effort was a major turn-on.

Your friends have grown accustomed to seeing you in their own world, whenever you and Jeno are together, their glances and remarks go unnoticed by both of you. You’re so engrossed and caught up in each other that the outside world fades away. There’s constant eye smiles, giggling, stolen glances, whispers, and communications, all adding to the intimate atmosphere. Physical closeness comes naturally, and you always make space for him. He, in turn, chooses to sit next to you and focuses solely on you.

You’re in the campus student lounge rooms. The last time you were here, the mere thought of him used to send chills down your spine, he used to make you incredibly nervous. The last time you were here with him was the morning after you had sex, and the memories flood back, mingling with the present moment.

But now? You’d say you’ve become a lot more comfortable around him. Don’t get it wrong, he still makes you nervous. At times it’s still difficult to look into his eyes and he loves it, especially right now, when he’s tracing the skin under your pretty little skirt with such precision. His eyes gaze into yours, penetrating deep into your soul, while the sides of his lips upturn into a smirk. As always, your friends are rolling their eyes as you and Jeno are eye-fucking again, completely oblivious to the scene around you.

Why is he touching you? Well, you mentioned wanting a tattoo, so you asked Jeno to trace an artistic outline of what he thinks would look good on you. Of course, deep down, you just wanted his hands on you; you weren’t actually planning to get inked. But you couldn’t exactly blurt out, ‘Jeno, please touch me!’ in front of everyone, could you? He doesn’t mind though; he sees right through you and finds you endearing and cute. Plus, he’s not exactly opposed to any excuse to touch you either.

As Jeno’s fingers glide over the bare skin of your thigh, you feel a surge of desire coursing through your veins. His touch is electric, sending shivers of anticipation up your spine. You bite your lip to stifle a moan, but the sound escapes anyway, earning a smirk from Jeno.

“Really? In front of everyone?” he teases, his voice husky in your ear, dripping with desire. You shake your head, unable to form words as his touch sets your nerves on fire. Every brush of his fingertips sends waves of pleasure straight to your core.

“You like that?” he whispers, his warm breath tickling your ear. You can only whimper in response, the ache between your legs growing more insistent with each passing moment.

His hand moves with purpose, tracing the curve of your thigh before inching higher, closer to where you need him most. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, matching the fire burning within you.

In your mind, you’re chanting ‘higher’ over and over, craving his touch to escalate. Suddenly, his voice, a low whisper in your ear, sends shivers down your spine. “You want me to touch you higher?” His words, dripping with seduction, fuel the fire burning within you.

How does he know? It’s maddening yet exhilarating, the way he can read your desires with just a glance. You bite your lip, trying to suppress the moan building in your throat, but it’s futile. You want him to know, to feel the raw intensity of your longing.

“No,” you manage to whisper, but it’s a lie, a feeble attempt to resist his irresistible allure. He smirks knowingly, his fingers teasingly brushing against your folds, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. You can’t hold back anymore as desire consumes you, craving his touch, his warmth, his everything.

He repeats his question with a smirk, his tone dripping with teasing temptation. “No?” he says, drawing out the word, his eyes sparkling with mischief. But you’re beyond words now, lost in a haze of desire as his touch threatens to unravel you completely. All you can think about is him, his hands, his lips, igniting a hunger that only he can satisfy. “Jen—”

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As you lay your head on Jeno’s lap, the comfortable silence of the room wraps around you. You’re scrolling through his phone, a small gesture that shows just how close you’ve become, trusting each other with such personal devices. He’s doing the same with yours, each of you lost in a quiet exploration of memories captured in digital form.

Your fingers pause as you swipe through his camera roll, a gallery of his life displayed in bursts of pixels and colours. There’s an array of images: candid shots with friends, selfies, beautiful scenic photos, gym progress and a few of his university projects. You also come across an array of your own photos that you’d almost forgotten sending him—naughty and risqué shots of you in lingerie, revealing outfits, and even some playful nudes.

Then, amidst the casual swiping, you halt. A photo pops up that halts your breath and tightens your chest. It’s an image of Jeno with Arin. 

You were still unclear about who Arin was to Jeno, and the nature of their past relationship. He hadn’t ever spoken about her, and the bits you pieced together from Eunji and Nayoung suggested they were together a while ago, though whether it was serious or not, you couldn’t be sure. But seeing this photo cuts your breath in half.

They’re caught in a serene moment—her seated on his lap, an arm draped comfortably around her. Her smile is radiant, the kind that seems to illuminate her entire face, and her eyes sparkle with joy. Jeno’s gaze is fixed on her with an intensity that’s palpable, his eyes soft, mesmerised. It’s clear from the photo that there was something deep and affectionate between them.

Among the multitude of images, this one stands out conspicuously, the only visual record of her presence in his phone. The absence of any other pictures of her prompts a troubling realisation: he must have deliberately removed them, yet this one remains, was it accidental? Was it not? 

You doubt it. A chill runs through your spine, your breath shakes, and you feel a painful strain in your chest at the realisation. This photo had to be recent—you notice him wearing one of his commonly used jackets, and the hairstyle is the same.

You’re so incredibly jealous and shaken up that your vision blurs; you can’t think straight, you feel like you’re about to throw up, you feel so fucked up and nauseous that you don’t even think to check the date the photo was taken. All you can focus on is looking at her. 

You can’t believe how breathtaking the photo is. Arin’s dress hugs her figure elegantly, accentuating her curves in all the right places, while her radiant smile lights up the frame, infusing the image with an undeniable warmth. Her eyes sparkle with genuine joy, drawing you into their depths with an irresistible allure. But it’s the way Jeno looks at her that leaves an indelible impression on your mind—he’s captivated, his gaze fixed on her with a mesmerising intensity that speaks volumes.

As you stare at the image, a cold realisation washes over you. She embodies everything you fear you’re not; her ease and vibrancy in the photo make you painfully aware of what you perceive as your own shortcomings. Jeno’s mesmerised look serves as a sharp reminder of your insecurities, feeding the jealousy that coils tight in your chest.

Now you know what it means when people say that a photo speaks a thousand words. It’s evident just by one photo—they look like they’re in love. The realisation hits you like a ton of bricks, confirming what your heart already suspected. With a single glance, the photo lays bare the truth of their relationship, leaving you reeling with a pang of heartache.

The photo stirs a storm of emotions within you—jealousy, envy, confusion. “She’s pretty,” you whisper to yourself, so quietly that Jeno doesn’t hear. You try to shake off the discomfort, to scroll past, but your eyes are glued to the image. Arin’s beauty, her dress, the happiness on his face—it’s a vivid portrayal of a potential love that fills Jeno’s life.

Silence stretches, heavy and thick, as you digest the image and its implications. The room suddenly feels smaller, the air around you charged with unsaid words and emerging doubts. Your fingers tremble slightly as they linger on the screen, the brightness of the phone casting shadows on your thoughtful face.

Jeno’s voice breaks through the heavy silence, calling out your name with increasing urgency. He notices the sudden change in your demeanor, the way you’ve gone silent and still, and follows your gaze to the photo of him and Arin. He meets your eyes, and there’s an unreadable, cold expression as if he’s masking or hiding something.

Your faint, broken voice fills the room with a small whisper. “Why do you have this photo on your phone?”

He’s about to answer, his mouth opening to form words that you’re not sure you’re ready to hear, when suddenly his phone vibrates loudly on the table. Your head snaps towards the device, a sharp intake of breath catching in your throat as you see the name illuminated on the screen. A single tear escapes, tracing a hot path down your cheek, but you quickly wipe it away before he can notice. With a huff, tinged with a mix of anger and hurt, you ask, your voice trembling slightly, “Why is Arin calling you?”

────────────────��─────────────

authors note thank you for reading :) hope you enjoyed, happy birthday to my love jeno <3 if you liked, pls interact, leave a message, ask, reblog, my dms on here are always open too so speak to me! i love meeting new ppl. there is a part 2 to this, the last part, which will be out asap. it was all initially going to be one fic but it was too long and tumblr didn't allow it so i had to split it up

tag list @apuppygirlfriend @babbymochiiii @actually-vl @mingiandbaconjam @nakamotai

[noxiwrites]

Forbidden

Synposis ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪

The new teaching assistant is too hot for his own good, distracting most of the girls in your class.You're not too bothered by him, he's just another pretty face- until you get pulled by him for failing the class. It's every girls wet dream, getting taught by the hot new teacher- and you find yourself slowly falling into a sickly sweet situation.

Warnings ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪

Age gap, inappropriate touching, arguments, angst, eventual smut, obsession, hidden relationship, public sex.

Word count ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪

2.8 k

Add yourself to my tag list | Masterlist

I II III IV V

By the next week, you’re a flurry of emotions. Mostly, you’re nervous.

Nail bitingly nervous.

You’re not sure how it’s got this bad, to the point where you’re scared to attend your own class- but you’ve been in this for three years now, and you’re not about to give up at the last stretch.

You refuse. You’d be damned if you let a man get in the way of your dream, your degree or anything you wanted to achieve.

You wrap your denim coat around you, teeth lightly chattering as you make your way over to the classroom.

“Hey, wait up,” you turn, looking over your shoulder. It’s a guy, you’re pretty sure is from your class, but you don’t really pay enough attention to know for certain.

He smiles at you as he catches up and you can see his breath in the cold dark morning. “I uh, I just wanted to say hi,” he says and you raise an eyebrow. This was doing absolutely nothing for you.

You round the corner to class in an awful silence, thankful when you see Molly waiting there for you, coffee in hand. Her head practically snaps towards the guy walking next you, but you just shake your head as you walk up to her.

“Good morning beautiful, coffee?” She asks, holding yours out while evil eyeing the guy stood half in the doorway, waiting.

“Who is that?” Molly whisper yells, taking a sip from her coffee, eyes never leaving him. You shrug, warming your hands on your own.

“Not a clue, he just wanted to say hi apparently,”

“That’s a shame,” Molly begins, raising her voice. “Too bad you’re spoken for,” both eyebrows raise as you look over your shoulder, seeing the guys shoulders slump as he enters the classroom. Your ears are scarlet red from the cold, but also the embarrassment.

You’d kinda forgot Rafe existed until Molly said that, and now you were back to feeling all nervous and shitty about going into class.

Molly grins, linking her hand into your own as she leads you into the classroom too, seeing the guy sat at the very back, at the top. You don’t give him much thought, mind already clouded with rafe, when you both take a seat on the bottom row again.

Speaking of- Rafe is sat at his desk, legs crossed onto the desk, head in a book. He’s got a blue knitted sweater on and some dark dress pants on.

“He looks yummy,” Molly whispers, nudging your arm. You sigh, observing the way he thumbs the page at the top of the book. With the way you were acting, anyone would think that you were as in love with him as the next person.

With that, you weren’t sure.

The last few students flutter into class and you look around, not spotting Kendra. Her minions are here, but no top bimbo.

Rafe closes his book, a noise you notice immediately as you turn back around, to see his eyes already boring into your own- for what feels like forever, like he’s trying to read you, before he looks away, smiling and clearing his throat.

“Welcome in guys, don’t worry, I’ve got the heating on,” a few laughs come from around the room as Rafe moves from around his desk to come stand at the front of it.

“So, we’re nearing the end of this first chunk of content- so I thought I’d give you an actual test this time. See how you’re all doing. Yes, you will be graded.” A chorus of groans.

You watch as Rafe crosses his arms over his chest and despite the sweater, you can still see his biceps- flexing as he laughs at everyone’s pity party. He reaches behind him, grabbing an even thicker stack of paper compared to the last one, and begins handing them out. He throws two on your table for you and Molly before moving onwards, not even giving you a second look.

“What was that?” Molly asks and you shrug, completely confused yourself.

“Okay guys,” Rafe begins as he stands back at the front of the class. “You get sixty minutes. No more, no less, starting now.”

The classroom falls silent as you open the first page of the paper, the material completely engraved in your mind. It doesn’t take you long to get halfway through the paper, trying to remember that you have to explain more how you got your answer, when someone taps you on the shoulder.

You turn, seeing the girl behind you beckoning hushed with a note, trying to do so without Rafe seeing. You take it, confused as you briefly look around the room. The guy from earlier slightly waves at you, grinning as he mouths for you to open it.

You turn back, cheeks burning as you unfold the piece of scrap paper.

I don’t care if you’re spoken for. I’d like to take you on a date.

Tobey

Molly taps your leg and you turn the note so she can see it, and it doesn’t take two seconds before she’s turning around and shooting him the evils. You don’t even get time to send back a no when the note is snatched out of your hand, Rafe bringing it up to read.

His eyes glance over the piece of paper before looking down at you and you shake your head- you do not want to get kicked out of class for this. There’s something behind his eyes as he looks up and spots Tobey, who’s doing anything but look now he’s been caught.

“Tobey Brown,” Rafe says, voice commanding. Everyone albeit stops what they’re doing at glances between the two, as Tobey catches Rafe’s eyes.

“Why are you passing notes in a test?” Rafe asks and Tobey shrugs, dropping his pen.

“You’re really gonna get between two students in love?” Tobey snickers, causing some of the people in the classroom to laugh. Rafe’s eyes dart down to your own as if confirming with you, to which you shake your head. He nods, looking back up at Tobey.

“You bet your ass I am. You’re disqualified from this test and you’ll receive zero points. Leave my classroom now.” You can hear Tobey scoff.

“You can’t do that,” he sounds unsure in himself, but Rafe only grins.

“I can, and I am. You don’t pass notes during tests- especially to girls who don’t want them,” a few more people laugh in the class and you look back to see Tobey’s eyes burning into you as he grabs his things. He doesn’t say a further word as he huffs out of the classroom, slamming the door behind him.

“Back to your tests guys, twenty minutes left,” Rafe says, crumpling up the note and throwing it into the trash can next to his desk.

The twenty minutes fly by, and it’s not long before Rafe is stood at the front of his desk, collecting papers from everyone as they leave. This time, you’re not the last one to leave as you pass him your paper, hoping he won’t say anything- but he does.

“Hey, mind staying back for a quick chat?” You nod, standing off to the side as everyone leaves, Molly included. She doesn’t go without a wiggle of her eyebrows and it makes you giggle, as Rafe shuts the classroom door.

He takes a seat back at his desk and you walk over, standing in front. “So, where were you last week?” He asks, folding his arms over his chest.

“I uh, wasn’t feeling too well,” you lie. You know he knows you’re lying too, you can see it in his eyes. He nods, leaning forward, and you can see him swallow.

“That uh, Tobey Brown kid, you’re not seeing him are you?” The question shocks you, and you’re sure it’d slap you in the face if it could.

“Why do you care if I am?” A flash of anger reaches across his face, before it disappears again, replaced with a look of discomfort.

“I’m not saying- I just don’t think he’s a good kid,” kid. The word sinks in like bricks in a pool, heavy and hard. If he thought Tobey was a kid- what did he think of you?

You were the same age as Tobey afterall. It put everything you thought into question- was he just an overly affectionate guy to his students? Or was he a creep. You bite your tongue instead of asking.

Rafe can sense a change in your mood, like you’re lost deep in thought- so he stands, beckoning for you to follow him into his office. He grabs your paper, opening the door.

You follow. Like you’re on autopilot, you follow him. You take a seat at the all too familiar chair as he takes a seat from across you, placing the paper between you.

He doesn’t open it. You’re wondering why, basking in the silence between the two of you when he speaks.

“Are we going to review my paper?” your eyes meet his own. He’s lax, sat back in his seat, arms crossed on his chest and his legs sit wide open under the table. They don’t quite touch yours, not yet.

“Yes, yes we are. I’m gonna tell you what’s wrong and you’re gonna re figure it out,” he tells you, smile watched into his features as he leans forward. He opens the paper, scanning through it as he looks for something you’ve done wrong.

You’re looking too, waiting for when he stops- and when he finally does, you’re embarrassed. It’s an easy question, that you were positive you’d got right. Rafe places the paper in front of you, finger jabbing the spot where you’re supposed to be looking before passing you a pen.

“You’ve gone wrong at some point during this, and I want you to figure out how,” he says, leaning back again. You nod, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear before leaning down and looking at the question.

It doesn’t take you long to get frustrated, getting the same answer over and over again. You whine, looking up at Rafe who’s watching you with amusement. “I can’t figure it out,”

“Why not? What’s confusing you?” His voice is cool, slicing right through your thoughts and you completely forget what you were going to say.

“I don’t know, I get the same answer every time,” rafe nods, standing from his chair. He’s round the desk in no time, leaning over you and looking at your reworkings of the question.

Your lungs stop working. You can’t breathe, eyes darting down at your slightly shaking hand as he’s all in your space. His presence feels so inviting, warm musky smell going right through your nostrils despite the lack of breathing you’re able to do.

He jabs the page again, causing your eyes to flutter over where he’s looking. He takes the pen from your hand, crossing out one of your workings and replacing it with his own. It changes the entire equation, giving a complete different answer from the one you had.

You feel so stupid. The pen drops to the paper and Rafe leans in closer. “Do you get it now?” He whispers, breath hot and heavy on your neck, causing you to shiver.

You nod, slowly, feeling his back against the back of your head as it tips backwards with your nod. Both his hands splay on the desk around you, caging you in.

“Yeah? Explain it to me,” he drawls, and you feel the heat crawl up your neck. If he could, he’d see your face bright red.

“I uh- I fucked up with one of my last equations which sent me in the wrong direction- it should’ve uh, been m equals 15x and not m equals 16x. I’m not sure where the extra number came from,” you whisper, gulping as he leans in even closer, if possible.

“Good. I knew you’d get there eventually, sweetheart.” You thought, when you first saw this man two weeks ago, you wouldn’t be like everyone else in class. He was a pretty face, the new chew toy for all the girls in class. You’d have thought- you wouldn’t be bothered by his voice, or his muscles, or his face- but boy, was he testing you.

You turn in the chair, looking up at him as he’s already staring down at you. You can feel it, feel the need, as neither of you move an inch. Just staring. You couldn’t deny how attractive he was, especially this close. His eyes break away from your own and down to your lips, before looking back up at you. There’s something there, glinting behind his blue irises.

He moves closer. If this were anywhere else, there wouldn’t be that nagging in the back of your head that this were wrong. He’s your teacher- but, the other side argues that he’s just an assistant- but god, you’d be damned if you weren’t feeling this right now. In this moment, he’s not your teacher. This is something else.

His eyes dart down to your lips again and it feels like you’ve been here for a millennia before he whispers, “fuck it.”

And suddenly, you’re kissing. He leans in closer, hands grasping your cheeks as you try to turn in the seat even more, grasping at his sweater. He kisses you like he’s got no oxygen, hands swiping up to push your hair behind your ears.

You moan slightly as his teeth scrape your bottom lip, fingers wrapping around his neck and scraping your fingers through the buzzed hair there. Rafe groans, pulling you up from the chair and pushing it out of the way. His hands make their way down to your waist, pushing you backwards towards the desk. You reach up, sitting on the desk, lips still locked onto Rafe’s.

One of his hands wrapped around your waist, the other splays on top your thigh just at the edge of your dress. You can feel his hand slipping behind your denim jacket, onto the small of your back as he pulls you towards the edge of the desk and you open your legs for him, allowing him to slot in between.

He groans, pulling away from you. He’s breathing heavy, lips swollen, and you can only imagine what you look like if he still looks that good.

He looks down between the two of you, letting out a heavy sigh. “You’re killing me, fuck.” His fingers play with the edge of your dress, chest heaving. You move a hand up the back of his head, feeling the buzz before pulling him back in for another kiss.

He accepts, capturing your lips again, hand slipping underneath your dress. He’s sliding his fingers over the sensitive part of your thigh, getting closer and closer to where you know you’re positively soaked, because of him.

And then reality hits. Like a freight train, it hits. You’re in his office, kissing your teacher. Kissing a twenty seven year old man. You pull back, shaking your head as the foggy mush finally leaves. Rafe’s look is questioning but he pulls back, hands leaving you colder than previously.

“I just- I don’t know, I think this is-” Rafe nods, face turning to stone. He fully pulls away from you, standing to the side as he sorts his pants out.

“Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow for class.” He doesn’t look at you and you wonder what you’ve done wrong, but he doesn’t say another word as you grab your bag, silently leaving the office.

As you reach your car, you can’t help but feel you’re made a mistake- uncomfortable heat between your legs and heavy head unable to think straight. You don’t know really, what actually just happened- but you know Molly was right.

You definitely wanted more. It makes you wonder why you stopped in the first place, freezing up like you did the time before. You’ve never had a man make you this nervous, ever.

But the way that he reacted when you stopped? It wasn’t good. Like he thought you regretted it or something, when you didn’t. You were just confused.

As you turn the ignition, you run your hands over your face. You weren’t sure what you’d got yourself into, but this was far from over.

Note ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪

Oh my goodness. It’s getting hot in here 🫣 I cannot wait to write the next chapter, I’m loving this series and I hope you guys are too !

Check out a teaser for a new series here <3

Tags ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪

@dudenhaaa27 @outerbankspov @ayy1234567 @rxfecameronsslut @potter-head-phanatic @lilithblackkk @akobx @nina357 @percysley @kundaquarius @elyseesarchive @purplerose291

[elikajinnie]

P: Vampire!Sunghoon X Human!Reader (Recommended age 18+)

Requested by: @doudouhoon -> request

Warnings: Blood, Violence, Supernatural Elements, Hypnosis, Mature Content, Obsession, Feral Behaviour, Chasing, Blood Consumption, Suggestive Content, Stalking, Murder, Possessive Behaviour.

Wordcount: 10.4k

Synopsis: Life was going smoothly—graduation was on the horizon, and your future seemed set. That is, until the new exchange student arrives. Stunningly handsome and impossible to ignore, he quickly leaves you both captivated and uneasy. Soon, strange occurrences follow. Objects move when you're not looking, whispers fill the air, and at night, you swear you see a pair of glowing red eyes and a set of sharp teeth watching you from the shadows.

a/n: nosferatu ass.... im just kidding! please read the request before commencing!

now playing: the vampire masqurade by peter gundry | bring me to life by evanescence | judas by lady gaga | kill of the night by gin wigmore | haunted by isabel larosa | kiss me you animal by burn the ballroom

True love wasn’t something you believed in—not in this generation, at least. The idea that two souls were meant for each other, so deeply intertwined that they would do anything for one another and never love another? Yeah, right. People these days didn’t know the meaning of love. They were more interested in body counts.

That’s why, every time you watched an old movie where lovers were so consumed by each other that they would sacrifice everything—sometimes even their own lives—you couldn’t help but feel like you were born in the wrong era. The devotion, the passion, the kind of love that wasn’t afraid to burn bright and destroy anything in its path—that was what you longed for. And yet, in stark contrast, your phone would light up with another message, another boy asking you something inappropriate, something empty, something that only reinforced the view of a world that had forgotten what love was supposed to be.

So you were never interested in finding a relationship. Even now, as you were finishing your years at college, you never looked into dating, choosing instead to focus on your studies. It wasn’t that you were incapable of love—you just hadn’t found anything worth your time.

You watched your friends fall in and out of relationships, some getting their hearts broken over people who never deserved them in the first place. You listened to them cry over boys who barely remembered their favorite color, who only seemed to care when it was convenient for them. And you? You refused to be part of that cycle. You had more important things to do than entertain the idea of a half-hearted love.

The only love you entertained was the love from your fantasy romance books—emphasis on the fantasy part. The love stories within those pages were different. They all made reality seem unbearably dull.

It was the kind of love that made your heart ache, not because you had never experienced it, but because you knew you never would. Not in this world.

You would spend nights curled up with a book in your hands, losing yourself in tales of knights vowing their lives to the ones they loved, of immortal beings waiting centuries just for a single touch. You devoured every word, every aching confession. Because in those stories, love was sacred. It wasn’t something people tossed aside when they got bored.

Reality, on the other hand, had never given you anything close to that. Real love—if it even existed—seemed watered down, temporary. A series of situationships, and eventual disappointments. It was nothing like the slow-burn intensity you read about, nothing like the soul-deep connections that had you believing two hearts could truly beat as one.

So you didn’t really expect anything close to love during the rest of your time in college. You had long accepted that romance, at least the kind you dreamed of, wasn’t meant for you.

Love—real, all-consuming love—was a fantasy. And you were done chasing fantasies.

But life had a cruel sense of irony.

Because in what world would something straight out of a fairytale come to life?

Apparently, in your world.

At first, you didn’t suspect anything peculiar about him. He was just another student, another presence in a school filled with people you barely paid attention to. But the more you saw him, the more you noticed. And with that noticing came something else—something strange.

Park Sunghoon. The new student who appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the semester, walking into class like he owned the air around him. He was cold-looking, unreadable, his expression carefully blank as if he had already seen everything this place had to offer and wasn’t the least bit impressed. The type of guy who could sit in the back of the class, say nothing, and still have half the room sneaking glances his way.

You didn’t think much of him at first. Just another student. Just another stranger you’d never utter a word to.

Right?

Yeah. No.

Because, as it turned out, Sunghoon had no plans of leaving you as just another face in the crowd.

You weren’t sure when it started. The way he always seemed to be around, even when you swore you were alone. The way your name rolled off his tongue so easily, as if he had known you for much longer than a few weeks. The way his eyes—cold and indifferent to everyone else—would soften, just barely, when they landed on you.

And then there were the other things. The strange things.

Like how you could’ve sworn you saw him somewhere one night, only for him to act like he had never left his dorm the next day. Like how, when you nearly slipped on the stairs, something unseen had steadied you before you could even react—only for Sunghoon to be standing at the bottom, watching.

Like how he always seemed to know things he shouldn’t.

It was eerie. It was unsettling.

But what was worse was that no one else seemed to notice.

To everyone else, Sunghoon was just the mysterious new guy, someone to admire from afar but never get too close to. He was quiet, reserved, uninterested in making friends. A mystery wrapped in sharp eyes and an even sharper jawline.

But to you? He was something else.

Because it wasn’t just that he always seemed to be around. It wasn’t just that he knew things he shouldn’t.

It was the way he looked at you—like he was waiting for something.

Like he knew something you didn’t.

You tried to ignore it, brushing off the odd feelings, convincing yourself you were overthinking. But then the coincidences started becoming harder to ignore.

Like the time you were walking home late, your footsteps echoing against the empty streets, only to feel a presence behind you. You turned around—nothing. But the air felt heavier, like someone had been there just a second before. And when you finally made it home, locking the door behind you, your phone buzzed with a message from an unknown number.

"You shouldn’t walk alone this late."

Your heart had nearly stopped.

And then there was the time you were in the library, absentmindedly flipping through one of your favorite fantasy books. You barely noticed when someone sat across from you, but when you looked up, Sunghoon was already staring, his eyes scanning the page in front of you.

"You like stories like this?" he asked, his voice smooth, but there was something else in it.

You hesitated. Why did it sound like he already knew the answer?

"Yeah," you replied cautiously. "Why? Do you?"

A slow, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "I guess you could say I have some experience with stories like these."

You didn’t know what he meant. Not then.

But soon, you would.

And by then, it would be too late.

Because Sunghoon wasn’t just another student. And he wasn’t just another presence in your life.

He was something else.

You never usually went out at night alone.

Stories on the internet, headlines on the news—they had done a good job of making you paranoid. You weren’t careless. You always had a companion, always stuck to a group, or at the very least, made sure you were in a vehicle when heading home.

But tonight?

Tonight, you weren’t so fortunate.

You were alone.

Your phone was hanging on to life by a thread, the battery percentage blinking in warning. You were still a bit of a walk away from your place, the streets quieter than they should’ve been. It wasn’t that late, but late enough for the usual crowds to have disappeared, leaving behind only shadows stretching long beneath flickering streetlights.

The night had started off fine—you hadn’t even planned to drink much. Just a simple outing with friends, a way to destress. But things hadn’t gone as expected. An argument, some misunderstandings, people leaving in different directions. And now, here you were.

Alone.

You glanced down at your phone, debating whether to risk what little battery you had left and call an Uber. Or a friend. Or even your dormmate—anyone who could come pick you up.

Your fingers scrolled desperately through your contacts, trying to make the most of your dwindling charge. But in your frantic searching, you failed to notice something.

Somewhere between exiting the club and now, the usual crowd had faded. The sounds of laughter and music had dulled into silence. The familiar warmth of bodies brushing past you, the comfort of knowing you weren’t alone—gone.

And it was only when you finally looked up that you realized:

You had walked too far from the club.

The streets, once bustling with life, were now empty. The neon lights that had painted the sidewalk in warm hues felt dimmer, the distant hum of passing cars too far away to comfort you.

A strange chill ran down your spine.

Something felt wrong.

And then—

A presence.

You couldn’t see anyone. But you felt it. The undeniable weight of someone’s gaze pressing against you from the darkness. Watching.

Your breath caught in your throat as you gripped your phone tighter, your pulse beginning to race.

You weren’t alone anymore.

And suddenly, you weren’t sure if that was a good thing.

Your fingers hovered over your phone screen, but suddenly, the numbers and names blurred together, your focus shifting elsewhere.

The air felt heavier. The kind of heaviness that wrapped around you like invisible hands, clawing at your nerves, making your skin prickle with unease. You didn’t hear footsteps, didn’t see movement, but the feeling of being watched was unmistakable.

Slowly, carefully, you turned your head.

Nothing.

Just an empty sidewalk stretching into the distance, streetlights casting long shadows over the pavement, the only sound being the faint buzz of electricity.

Calm down. You were probably just imagining things. Your nerves were heightened because of the situation, your mind playing tricks on you.

Still, your gut told you to move.

Forcing yourself to shake off the paranoia, you tapped at your screen, pressing the contact of the first person you could think of. But before the call could even go through—

A sound.

Close.

Too close.

The distinct scrape of a shoe against concrete.

Your heart nearly leaped out of your chest.

You spun around—again, nothing. The alley beside you gaped like an open mouth, dark and endless, but you saw no one. No shadow, no figure lingering beneath the dim streetlights.

And yet, the feeling of someone watching you remained.

Your breathing grew uneven as panic clawed its way up your throat. Your pulse pounded in your ears as you shoved your phone into your pocket, your fingers trembling slightly. You didn’t care about it anymore—you just needed to move.

Now.

Your feet hit the pavement hard as you turned away, breaking into a hurried pace. You didn’t dare look over your shoulder, didn’t want to see if someone was there. The weight of an unseen gaze still clung to you, making your skin crawl, but you refused to stop.

You just had to get out of here.

The street stretched endlessly ahead, but it felt wrong. No people, no noise, just the emptiness pressing in from all sides. You swallowed hard, your breath coming in uneven gasps.

And then—

A whisper of movement. Not from behind this time.

From ahead.

Your instincts screamed at you to get on the main road. To disappear before whatever was watching you decided to make itself known.

Without thinking, you turned sharply into an alley, the dimly lit path offering an escape—except you didn’t get far.

Because the moment you rounded the corner, you slammed into someone.

Hard.

A gasp tore from your lips as your momentum sent you stumbling backward. But before you could hit the ground, strong hands caught you.

Your breath hitched.

The grip around your waist was firm, steady. And when you looked up, your heart nearly stopped.

Sunghoon.

His face was inches from yours, his cold, unreadable eyes locked onto you. The lights from the street barely reached the alley, casting shadows across his sharp features, but even in the dimness, he looked impossibly composed.

Like he had been waiting for you.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You were too stunned, too caught off guard by the sudden closeness, the way his hands hadn’t let go yet.

And then, finally, he broke the silence.

"Why are you running?" His voice was quiet, smooth, like he already knew the answer.

Your throat felt dry. Your mind was still spinning from the lingering fear, from the thing you had felt watching you.

"I—" You swallowed. "I thought… someone was following me."

Sunghoon’s grip on you tightened just slightly before he exhaled, his expression unreadable.

"You’re not wrong."

A shiver ran down your spine.

"What—" you started, but he was already moving, already shifting his body just enough to glance over his shoulder. His gaze flickered toward the empty street behind you, his jaw tensing.

"You shouldn’t be out this late," he murmured, more to himself than to you.

And then his eyes met yours again.

"Come with me."

It wasn’t a request.

It was a command.

And somehow, you knew—refusing wasn’t an option.

Your body tensed. Every instinct screamed at you to question him, to demand an explanation, but the way Sunghoon looked at you—the way his gaze was sharp—made the words die in your throat.

"Come with me."

He wasn’t asking. And somehow, deep down, you knew he had a reason.

Your heart still hammered from the chase—or whatever that was. The feeling of being watched hadn’t disappeared, but standing here with Sunghoon, something shifted. It wasn’t gone, but it was different.

Like whoever—or whatever—had been following you wasn’t as eager to approach now that he was here.

Your breath caught. Did he know?

Sunghoon didn’t give you much time to think. His fingers tightened briefly around your wrist before he let go, turning on his heel.

"We need to move," he muttered, already walking.

You hesitated for half a second, but then another wave of unease crashed into you, the prickling sensation of a gaze making the hairs on your arms stand.

So you followed.

The alley stretched into a maze of turns and side streets, leading you farther from the club, farther from where you thought you should be. You tried to memorize the path, but Sunghoon moved too quickly, like he already knew exactly where to go.

"Where are we going?" you finally asked, your voice hushed but urgent.

"Somewhere safer."

"Safer from what?"

Sunghoon didn’t answer.

You gritted your teeth, frustration creeping in. You had no idea why you were listening to him, why you were blindly following someone you barely knew through empty backstreets in the dead of night. But something about his presence, his certainty, kept you moving.

Eventually, he stopped in front of what looked like an old bookstore—one of those places you never really noticed, tucked between taller buildings, its windows dark and uninviting at this hour.

Sunghoon pulled open the door, glancing at you expectantly.

"Inside."

You hesitated, glancing over your shoulder. The street behind you was empty. Too empty.

Your fingers curled into fists as another cold shiver ran through you.

Whatever had been watching you earlier… it was still there.

Without another word, you stepped inside.

The door clicked shut behind you, and with it, the heavy feeling of being hunted finally lifted.

But when you turned to face Sunghoon, you found him watching you carefully, as if you were the mystery, searching for something beneath your skin that even you didn’t know was there.

"Where are we?" you pressed, stepping closer. "Where did you bring me"

But he didn’t answer.

His expression didn’t shift. He didn’t even look like he was considering responding. Instead, he simply turned away, his attention flickering toward the door, as if waiting.

Irritation bubbled up inside you. After everything—the fear, the chase, the unanswered questions—he was just going to ignore you?

You exhaled sharply, rubbing your arms as another chill ran down your spine.

Fine. If he wasn’t going to give you answers, you’d just figure things out yourself.

Your gaze wandered to the window. The streets outside were still. The emptiness from before hadn’t changed—no people, no movement, nothing but the glow of streetlights.

Had you imagined it? The feeling of being watched, of something lurking just beyond your sight?

Your fingers curled slightly as you turned back toward Sunghoon, ready to demand an answer again—

But he wasn’t there.

You blinked.

The space where he had been standing just moments ago was completely empty.

Your heart stuttered.

You whipped your head around, scanning the dark bookstore, expecting to see him a few steps away, maybe wandering between the bookshelves.

But there was nothing.

No sound.

No sign that he had moved.

Nothing.

Your pulse quickened. How? How had he disappeared so silently? The store wasn’t that big—you would’ve heard his footsteps, the creak of a floorboard, something.

And yet, he was just… gone.

A lump formed in your throat.

This was wrong.

This whole night had been wrong.

But before you could turn back toward the door, before you could even think about stepping outside, something inside you—something deep, something instinctual—shifted.

It wasn’t fear.

It wasn’t panic.

It was a pull. A whisper in your bones.

Move deeper into the store.

You hesitated, glancing toward the rows of bookshelves stretching into the dimly lit space. The deeper you looked, the darker it became, the light from the front windows barely reaching past the first few aisles.

Logic told you to leave.

But something else—something stronger—urged you forward.

And before you could stop yourself, your feet started moving.

Your steps echoed softly against the wooden floor as you moved past rows of towering bookshelves. Your mind screamed at you to stop, to turn around and run out of this cursed place. But your body? It refused to listen.

It was like you were being guided, dragged forward by some invisible thread pulling at your very soul.

Your breathing quickened as you passed worn-out seating areas and dusty reading nooks, the air growing heavier the deeper you went. You tried to force your feet to stop, but they kept moving, like you were trapped in a dream where no matter how hard you fought, you couldn’t wake up.

Your heart pounded violently in your chest as you rounded another corner, stepping into an aisle far darker than the rest, the towering shelves casting deep shadows that seemed to swallow everything whole.

Your footsteps slowed as you reached the end of the aisle, stepping into a section that felt… different.

The books lining the shelves weren’t like the others. Their spines were darker, older, some bound in cracked leather with gold lettering that had long since faded. And the titles...

Legends of the Undead. Bloodlines of the Eternal. The Shadowed Ones.

The supernatural.

Your breath hitched as you stepped closer, eyes scanning the books before a sudden thump echoed through the silence.

You froze.

Slowly, you turned toward the sound, your pulse hammering in your ears.

A book had fallen from one of the shelves, lying face up on the floor.

There was no draft, no reason for it to have moved.

And yet…

Something inside you whispered, urging you forward.

You swallowed hard but obeyed, stepping toward the book like you had no other choice.

The cover was worn, the edges tattered from age, but the image printed on it sent a strange chill through you.

A couple.

A woman with wide, longing eyes, and a man who stood behind her, holding her close. But his face—his features—were strikingly sharp. His skin was pale, almost ghostly, and draped over his shoulders was a dark, flowing cape.

And then, you saw them.

His teeth.

Sharp, glistening.

Fangs.

Your stomach twisted as your fingers unconsciously tightened around the book.

A vampire.

Swallowing the unease clawing at your throat, you quickly shoved the book onto the nearest shelf—definitely not the one it had fallen from, but you didn’t care. You just wanted it out of your hands.

Then, without a second glance, you turned on your heel and scuffled your way back toward the entrance, your pulse thrumming in your ears.

You wanted to leave.

Reaching the door, you grabbed the handle and twisted.

It didn’t budge.

Your breath hitched.

You tried again, jiggling it harder. Locked.

Your stomach dropped.

Fumbling, you checked for a latch, a keyhole—something. But nothing worked. The lock wouldn’t turn, wouldn’t shift, wouldn’t so much as budge.

Your chest tightened.

No. No, this wasn’t happening.

You peered outside, but the streets were just as empty as before. No cars, no distant figures, nothing but a dark, lifeless city.

Panic curled around your ribs as you pressed your forehead against the glass.

You were trapped.

A frustrated groan escaped you as you spun back toward the darkened bookstore.

"Sunghoon!" you called out, voice echoing between the shelves.

Silence.

Your throat felt dry as you called his name again, louder this time.

Still nothing.

He had to be here. He had to be.

He wouldn’t just leave you locked inside a bookstore all night… right?

"Sunghoon, where are you? This isn’t funny!"

No response.

Your fingers clenched into fists as you hesitantly stepped between the shelves, your voice growing more frantic each time you called Sunghoon’s name.

The silence was suffocating.

You peeked into one of the sections, your heartbeat drumming against your ribs. The air felt heavier here, like something unseen was pressing against your chest.

And then—

A cold breath ghosted over the back of your neck.

Your body went rigid.

The sensation was unmistakable—icy, deliberate, like someone was standing right behind you.

Your breath hitched as your entire body screamed at you to run. But when you turned around sharply—

Nothing.

No one.

The aisle was empty. Your paranoia spiked. Your mind raced with every horror scenario you’d ever read, every urban legend about being alone in places you weren’t supposed to be.

You had to get out.

"Sunghoon!" you shouted again, your voice echoing through the vast store.

And then—

A soft creak.

Your eyes snapped to the left, where a door—one you were certain hadn’t been there before—slowly swung open.

A dark figure stepped out.

Sunghoon.

He looked… perfectly normal. Calm, even.

His dark eyes met yours, and his lips curled into a small, amused smile.

"There you are," he said casually, as if you weren’t on the verge of a panic attack.

For a second, you just stared, your mind struggling to comprehend the sheer absurdity of the situation. He had just appeared from a hidden door like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Your initial shock quickly turned into anger.

"Are you kidding me?!" you snapped, stepping toward him. "You left me alone in here! The door is locked, and I—" Before you could finish, he reached out and grabbed your wrist.

Gently.

Yet firmly enough that it sent an unexpected shiver down your spine.

"Come on," he murmured, his voice low and smooth. "This way."

Without waiting for your response, he led you through the mysterious doorway.

The second you stepped inside, your breath hitched.

It was another section of the bookstore—except this one felt different.

The air was filled with the scent of old parchment and something faintly metallic. The books here looked ancient, their bindings cracked with age, their pages yellowed and fragile.

This place… it felt untouched. Hidden. Like a secret only a select few were meant to see.

You swallowed, your heart pounding in your chest as you turned to Sunghoon.

"What is this place?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

"The literary section," he answered simply.

Your steps felt heavy as Sunghoon led you through, then without saying much, he stopped in front of an old door, pulling out a small pair of keys from his pocket. The metallic click echoed in the silence as he unlocked it.

You expected to find another dark corridor, or maybe some secret, ancient room filled with more strange books.

But instead…

It led to the outside.

The cold night air hit your face as you stepped out, blinking in confusion. You turned around, watching Sunghoon lock the door behind you.

What even was that place? And how did he know about it?

Before you could ask, Sunghoon gently nudged you toward a sleek black car parked nearby.

"Come on. I’ll drive you home. It’s not safe for you to be out here alone," he said, his tone calm yet strangely... protective.

Your mind was spinning, struggling to process what had just happened. You barely noticed as Sunghoon opened the passenger door for you, guiding you inside before slipping into the driver’s seat.

It wasn’t until the engine roared to life, and the car began smoothly gliding through the empty streets, that you finally snapped out of whatever trance you’d been in.

"Wait, wait, wait," you blurted out, turning to him with wide eyes. "What the hell just happened back there? What was that place? And why do you have the keys to some creepy store that—"

"Calm down," Sunghoon interrupted, glancing at you with that same unreadable expression. "I told you, it’s a bookstore. A safe space."

Your eyes narrowed.

"And what does that even mean? How do you know about it? Why were you even there?"

Sunghoon let out a soft chuckle, as if your panic amused him. "You ask too many questions."

You scoffed. "Because none of this makes sense!"

He glanced at you again before turning his eyes back to the road.

"Some things aren’t meant to make sense."

That only made your frustration grow.

"You’re seriously not gonna explain anything?"

Sunghoon smirked faintly. "I probably just saved you from some creep. You could at least say thank you."

You stared at him in disbelief.

He was avoiding your questions. Clearly.

But the way he spoke… it was like he knew something. Something you weren’t supposed to know.

Who exactly was Park Sunghoon?

The rest of the car ride was filled with silence. The streets blurred past the window as you watched the empty city, but your mind was stuck on Sunghoon.

You stole a glance at him from the corner of your eye. His face was calm, as if none of what just happened was strange at all.

"You’re really not going to tell me anything, are you?" you muttered, breaking the silence.

"Would you even believe me if I did?"

Your brows furrowed. "Try me."

He let out a soft chuckle, but didn’t answer.

Frustration bubbled in your chest, but at the same time...

There was something about him that made your heart race in a way you couldn't explain.

You barely knew this guy, yet it felt like he was pulling you into something that you could not comprehend.

And the scariest part?

A part of you... wanted to know more.

Before you knew it, the car slowed down in front of your dorm.

Sunghoon put the car in park and turned to you. His gaze softened slightly as he spoke,

"Get some rest. It's late."

You hesitated, unsure whether to step out or demand more answers. But something about the way he looked at you left you speechless.

With a sigh, you reached for the door handle and stepped out.

But just as you were about to close the door, Sunghoon’s voice stopped you.

"Sweet dreams."

Your breath hitched as you turned to face him, as he only gave you a small, knowing smile before driving off into the darkness.

You stood there, watching the taillights disappear into the night, your heart pounding in your chest.

What the hell just happened?

Sunghoon was always composed. Always. His life had been shaped by discipline, by the strict standards of his legacy, a lineage built on elegance, refinement, and control. His every move, every glance, was carefully calculated. His desires? Contained.

Except for now.

Now, as his eyes flickered over to you across the classroom, something was breaking inside him. Something he couldn’t control.

You.

You, sitting there, so effortlessly beautiful, your presence radiating something he couldn’t ignore. Something he couldn’t bury, no matter how hard he tried.

You were tempting. The way your hair fell over your shoulder, the curve of your lips as you smiled at your friend, the soft laugh that escaped you when something amused you. It was all too much. And as your scent teased the edges of his senses, it became overwhelming.

He had been keeping his distance, maintaining control, but now—now—it was slipping through his fingers like sand.

One sip. One taste.

He could already imagine it: your blood, sweet and intoxicating, flowing as he licked it from your skin, savoring every drop as if it were the finest nectar.

He clenched his jaw so hard it hurt, trying to suppress the need that burned within him.

You were special.

He had always known it. There was something about you, something different that called to him in ways he couldn’t explain. Something about your blood—it was made for him.

One taste and he would be hooked, he knew it. The craving had only grown since the moment he first laid eyes on you, and now it clawed at him from within.

His fingers dug into the side of the table, the wood creaking under the pressure of his grip.

You were a forbidden fruit, and resisting you was a battle he wasn’t sure how much longer he could win.

His gaze flickered back to you, and his heart clenched, a familiar hunger coiling deep within him.

Oh, how he craved you.

The sound of the classroom around him faded as his attention remained fixated on you, his mind racing with thoughts he couldn’t control. He tried to focus on the lesson, tried to pay attention to the teacher’s voice droning on, but it was useless. All he could hear was the pounding of his own pulse, the quickened rhythm that matched the beat of his desires.

You shifted in your seat, and it was like a jolt to his senses. His eyes followed the movement, the way you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, the way your fingers tapped lightly on the desk. Each little thing you did, each breath you took, only deepened the ache inside him. It was all too much, and his restraint—once ironclad—was beginning to feel fragile, delicate, like it could snap at any moment.

There was no doubt in his mind anymore; he was losing himself.

I can’t do this, he thought desperately, his grip tightening on the table. But it was futile. The desire was too strong, too consuming.

One sip.

Just one.

He could already taste it—the sweetness, the richness that he knew would flood his senses. He needed it. And if he didn’t get it—he didn’t know what would happen.

His fingers dug deeper into the table, the wood now splintering under the pressure of his growing need. His eyes narrowed as he tried to compose himself. But the more he stared at you, the more the temptation grew.

Control, Sunghoon. You have to keep control.

His entire being screamed for him to act, to close the distance between you two and finally claim what he so desperately wanted. But he didn’t move. He couldn’t.

The bell rang, shattering the tension, and students began to gather their things, but Sunghoon stayed rooted in place, his eyes never leaving you.

You stood, gathering your bag, oblivious to the storm that raged inside him.

He tried to steady himself, fighting against the instinct that begged him to step forward, to take you, to make you his.

But he stayed still, watching you walk out of the room with every ounce of restraint he had left.

Not yet.

Okay, you were officially convinced Sunghoon was a weirdo. After that night in the bookstore, it was like he had some sort of uncanny ability to appear wherever you went. He was always there—just lurking.

And it didn’t stop there. You started seeing him in your dreams. How? You had no clue. All you knew was that those dreams were way too personal to even think about, let alone talk to anyone about. There was something intensely wrong—and yet strangely captivating—about them. And the worst part? You weren’t sure if you were afraid of him, or if you were afraid of what you might feel about him if you let yourself admit it.

So you did what you thought was the logical thing. You avoided him. At all costs.

You tried to keep your distance—barely acknowledging his presence when you passed him, pretending you didn't notice when his gaze lingered too long. But that was when things got worse.

The more you tried to avoid him, the more he seemed to indulge in it. It was like he enjoyed watching you squirm, like he was learning everything there was to know about you with every passing second. You could feel his eyes on you—always.

Every time you saw him, his stare was impossible to ignore.

It wasn’t just a passing glance. No, it was like his eyes zeroed in on you—completely and utterly fixed, like he was searching you. Every time your paths crossed, he didn’t just look at you. He studied you, like he could see something no one else could. His gaze didn’t break, didn’t waver, as if he was trying to memorize every detail of you, every movement you made.

It was maddening.

There was no subtlety to it—his stare was intense in a way you couldn’t explain. It felt like his gaze was undressing your soul, pulling at the parts of you that you didn’t want anyone to see. It was suffocating. You couldn’t breathe when he looked at you like that, as though you were a piece of prey and he was waiting for the right moment to claim you.

You tried to look away, to avoid his gaze, but it felt like you were trapped under his spell. It made your skin crawl, your heart race. And for some reason, you hated the way your body responded to it. How your mind kept spiraling into the thoughts you desperately wanted to avoid.

What the hell was he doing to you?

He was becoming unbearable to ignore, but you really couldn’t do much with him around. It was like he was everywhere.

Around campus. Around the dorms. At the local cafe you frequented. And worst of all, he was in your dreams, invading your nights in ways that left you breathless and disoriented by morning. Every time you woke up, it took everything in you not to curl up and hide from everything in shame.

You were going insane, weren't you? You tried to tell yourself it was just a phase, just some weird, creepy obsession you could shake off. After all, it was easy to dismiss someone like Sunghoon, right? He was weird, and you had every reason to avoid him. But somewhere, somehow, that strategy had backfired.

The worst part?

You didn’t mind it.

At some point, your mind had started craving his attention. The same attention that used to send chills down your spine, that once made your heart race with dread, now made your chest tighten in an unfamiliar way. You started looking for it, hunting for those moments when his gaze would fall on you again, when his eyes would lock with yours across the room or across the street.

And every time it happened, you felt it—this rush of something deep inside you, something almost giddy.

Like you were waiting for it.

And every time it happened—when his eyes found you, when he was close enough that you could feel him but not quite touch him—you couldn’t deny it. Something in you lit up.

You hated it, but you couldn't stop it. It was like you were addicted to it, to him. His attention became a drug you didn’t know how to quit.

Because of these dreams, you hadn’t been sleeping well at all. You’d wake up in the middle of the night, your body slick with sweat, your heart pounding like a drum. The sheets would be tangled around you as you gasped for air, your breath uneven and shallow, the images from your dreams still haunting the edges of your mind.

Every time you woke up like that, you’d look around your dark bedroom, feeling an overwhelming sense of being watched. The feeling would crawl up your spine, creeping into your thoughts until you were certain someone was lurking just beyond the edge of your vision. But when you flicked on the bedside lamp, the room was always empty. Just you. Alone.

Still, the feeling never truly left. It lingered in the corners of the room, under the bed, in the darkened space between your dresser and the wall.

It was always the same. Every night. The dreams. The shame. The emptiness that followed you as you tried to settle back into sleep, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake it off. It had become a cycle, one that was slowly unraveling your sanity.

And it started to show on you.

You could feel it in your body—your mind was exhausted, and it was taking a toll. You’d fall asleep in the middle of class, your head dropping onto the desk as you fought to stay awake, but failing miserably. Or during lunch, when you would try to sip at your coffee, but your eyelids would feel too heavy to keep open.

But those naps never lasted long.

You’d wake up suddenly, the whispers of your dreams still clinging to you, leaving you disoriented and groggy. Sometimes, you would even jolt awake, your body trembling as if you had been running or fighting for your life. And every time you opened your eyes, you’d be met with the same mundane reality.

It was driving you mad.

You wanted it to stop. You needed it to stop. But it was like a chain around your neck, one you couldn’t remove no matter how hard you tried. The pull of Sunghoon’s attention, the lure of his eyes - it was suffocating you.

But it seemed like Sunghoon's presence was messing with more than just your sleep. The effects were trickling into other parts of your life, too.

The little nap accidents during classes? They were starting to catch up to you. You were behind on your work, falling behind on assignments, and you could feel your grades slipping further and further away. The last assignment had been a disaster, and your professor had been kind enough to give you a second chance, offering extra bonus work to help make up for it.

So there you were, sitting at the local café, long past your usual hours. The light above your table flickered slightly as you typed away, hunched over your laptop, trying to focus on the work in front of you. You knew you had to get it done. You had to show your professor you could pull yourself together, that you were still capable of doing this.

But the longer you sat there, the harder it was to ignore how exhausted you felt. Every line you typed seemed to blur, your thoughts fragmented, the constant hum of the café around you mixing with the dull throb in your skull. Even the smell of coffee no longer held its usual comfort—it just made you feel sick to your stomach.

And yet, you kept pushing through it, knowing that if you didn’t finish tonight, you’d only get further behind.

By the time you finally wrapped up the work and rushed to submit it, the café was closing. The lights were dimming, and the staff were tidying up, cleaning tables and stacking chairs as they prepared to lock the doors for the night. You barely noticed as you walked out, your mind focused solely on the task you had completed, the slight relief of being done with it for now.

The sky had darkened while you worked, the deep blue stretching across the horizon, stars barely visible against the faint glow of the city lights. The streets were quieter now, the hum of cars and chatter from nearby shops muted.

You could feel the cool night air biting at your skin as you walked. And as you pulled your jacket tighter around yourself, you became busy scrolling through your phone, trying to distract yourself from everything.

But then, you heard it.

A sound—disgusting and wrong. A wet, slurping noise, like a dog drinking from a bowl. Only it wasn’t right. It was too sickening, too unnatural.

Your feet stopped moving before you could think. You hadn’t meant to, but your body had reacted on its own. Your eyes darted towards the dark alleyway ahead, and the sound was louder now, almost suffocating. A gut-wrenching instinct told you to keep walking, but something inside you refused. Something dark and curious tugged you closer.

Despite every ounce of your being screaming to leave, you did the one thing you shouldn’t have: you turned on the flashlight of your phone and pointed it into the alley.

Instantly, you regretted it.

The beam of light cut through the shadows just enough to reveal the nightmare you had walked into.

A woman lay on the ground, her body limp and lifeless, eyes wide open and white, her skin a sickly shade of pale. Her blood… it coated the ground around her in a dark pool, soaking into the cracked pavement. And beside her, bending over her body, was a man.

The man… was feeding on her.

He was hunched over her, his face a mess of blood, his mouth smeared with the crimson liquid as he drank from her throat. The wet sounds filled your ears, but what made your blood run cold wasn’t just the act—it was his eyes.

He looked at you.

His eyes were red. Red as the blood he was drinking.

Your heart dropped into your stomach. Your breath caught in your throat as you stumbled back, instinctively trying to move away, but your feet wouldn’t obey. You were frozen, your body rigid with terror.

Then, as if to drive the horror deeper, he parted from the woman’s mangled neck. The blood dripped from his jaw, splattering to the ground, and he slowly, deliberately, ran his tongue over the blood that covered his lips. His tongue was long, unnaturally long, and as he licked the blood, you saw it—

Fangs.

Oh no.

The world spun around you. Your pulse raced as your body screamed at you to run, to escape, but your legs were frozen in place. Every part of you was screaming in panic, but it felt like you were drowning in fear, unable to move.

And in that moment, you were certain of two things.

One, this wasn’t a man.

Two, you were his next meal.

The man’s red eyes never left you as he slowly rose from the woman’s lifeless body, blood still dripping from his chin. He straightened himself, his movements slow, as if savoring the moment. You felt the chill of terror crawl up your spine, your entire body locked in place as you tried to find your voice.

His lips curled into a sinister, satisfied smile, revealing the sharp fangs that glistened under the dim light.

“You…” he murmured, his voice smooth and dark, laced with hunger. “You smell… so delicious.”

Your breath hitched, your body trembling, as his gaze seemed to pierce right through you. It was as if he could see straight into your soul, and his words sent a cold wave of dread over you.

“I can hear your heartbeat,” he continued, taking a step closer, his eyes scanning you as if assessing you. “It’s racing. Thumping so hard, so fast. It’s music to my ears. The way it echoes in your chest… it’s irresistible.”

Your knees felt weak, but you still couldn’t move, paralyzed by fear and the unnatural intensity of his gaze.

“You are a special one,” he whispered, his voice low and intoxicating. “I can see it. Your blood… It will be more delicious than hers. More… rich. I can already taste it in the air.”

You wanted to scream, to run, but the words didn’t come. All you could do was watch as he stepped closer, his presence overwhelming.

“I’ll take every drop from you,” he whispered, a dark chuckle escaping his lips. “Every. Last. One. You won’t be left with a single drop.”

With that, he discarded the woman’s body carelessly, the limp form slumping to the ground with a sickening thud. She was nothing to him now—just a hollow shell. His attention was entirely focused on you now.

You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think straight.

His steps grew louder, closer, and all you could do was tremble, hoping for some miracle, some way out of this nightmare.

And before you could even process what was happening, a blur of movement shot past you, fast as lightning.

The vampire-man let out an animalistic snarl, his head snapping toward the figure that was attacking him. For a moment, you couldn’t see clearly. It was as though the air around you had thickened, time slowing down. The shadowy figure collided with the vampire, and they tumbled to the ground in a flurry of motion. You could hear the sounds of a vicious struggle, but all you could do was stand there, frozen in fear, completely caught off guard.

In the chaos, your phone slipped from your trembling hand and clattered to the cold ground. You scrambled to pick it up, eyes glued to the scene unfolding before you. The vampire-man hissed, but the figure didn’t back down.

The hissing grew louder, more frenzied. The air seemed to crackle with tension as the vampire-man struggled beneath his attacker.

You couldn’t stay there any longer.

Your heart pounded in your chest as your instincts screamed at you to run, to get away before you became the next target. Your legs felt like jelly as you backed up, tripping over your own feet and tumbling away. You were shaking, the fear gripping you tighter with every step.

A voice—low, urgent—whispered in your mind.

Run. Now.

And that was all you needed to hear. You didn’t need any more encouragement. With everything in you, you bolted, sprinting down the empty street, the sound of your heavy breathing drowned out by the roar of blood rushing in your ears.

You didn’t dare look back.

Not until you reached the safety of the main road, where you collapsed against a lamppost, gasping for air, eyes darting around the empty roads.

What just happened?

Okay, you did not believe in vampires. At all. Count Dracula, Count Orlok, Bram Stoker—everything was just fiction. Fantasy. The stuff of stories, movies, and nightmares.

But what you saw last night? That… you knew it wasn’t some wild hallucination. There was no way your mind could have conjured something so real, so grotesque. You felt it—every instinct screamed that what you witnessed was not just some twisted dream. And you knew that too, because when you returned to the alley the next day, the woman's body was gone.

But the blood—the blood was unmistakable. Streaks of it still marred the ground, dark and congealing under the harsh light of the morning sun. It was a dead giveaway.

Your stomach twisted as you crouched down to get a better look, staring at the stain on the pavement. No body. Just the unmistakable remnants of what had happened.

You wanted to go to the police. Hell, part of you felt like you had to—because this was serious. Someone had been murdered, right there in that alley. You could almost hear the sirens, see the flashing lights of the patrol cars, the officers coming in to take statements, investigate.

But then something in you hesitated.

Would they even believe you? You were certain they’d just look at you like you were crazy. A paranoid college student, half asleep, imagining things. They’d probably tell you it was some late-night prank or a random street fight gone wrong or even accuse you for taking drugs. And what could you possibly say? “I saw a man with red eyes and fangs, drinking the blood of a woman in an alley”?

You winced at the thought. It sounded insane even to you.

What if it was just… something else? Some twisted person? But even then, the red eyes? And the fangs? That didn’t make sense. Not in a world you knew.

So, instead of making the call you needed to, you backed away from the alley, stood there for a moment, staring at the bloodstain on the ground as your heart raced.

Your mind was a proper mess.

You couldn’t ignore it anymore. You had to do something, anything, to make sense of what had happened. So you did what you had to do—you investigated. And you knew where to start.

After classes, you didn’t go straight to your dorm. Instead, you found yourself heading toward the bookstore—the same one Sunghoon had taken you to that one night. There was something about that place, something that made you feel certain that the answers would be there, tucked away among the pages.

As you pushed open the door to the bookstore, the familiar scent of old paper and dust enveloped you. The bell above the door jingled softly, and you were greeted by the sound of a old woman behind the counter, softly snoring, her glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose. You looked at her for a moment, but quickly moved past, not wanting to wake her up.

The store was quiet, with only a few customers scattered around. A woman sat in a chair near the back, completely engrossed in a romance novel—so much so that she probably hadn’t noticed you enter. A man stood near the science section, holding a stack of books, flipping through one, while another man was sorting through books, likely an employee.

But none of them mattered.

You knew exactly where you needed to go, and it didn’t take long for your eyes to find the familiar shelf. You scanned the titles, your pulse quickening as you spotted it. There it was—the same book. You almost let out a small, victorious sound as your fingers closed around it, pulling it free from between two other books.

As your fingers traced the familiar cover, that familiar sense of fascination stirred in your chest. You glanced around the shop, making sure no one was paying you any attention, before you carefully flipped it open.

You opened the book, expecting to find answers—maybe facts, some history, or even some sort of guide that could help explain what you had seen that night. But instead, you were met with something entirely different.

It wasn’t what you had imagined at all.

The first page was full of elegant prose, describing a vampire's longing for the taste of a mortal’s blood, how the scent alone would send him into a frenzy. The words were written with such intensity, each line dripping with yearning, and you couldn’t help but feel an unexpected heat rise in your cheeks as you read on.

The story was not a factual account or even a mythological tale; no, this was a love story. A sensual love story about a vampire and his human. The lines were filled with descriptions of blood—how the vampire wanted sink his fangs into his lovers delicate skin and drink.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you flipped through more pages, the story growing more heated. You felt as if you were intruding on something private. Something you should not be reading. But you couldn’t stop. You were drawn in, unable to turn away.

You felt your breath quicken, and in the back of your mind, a voice warned you that you were treading too close to something dangerous. This book wasn’t just telling a story—it was shaping something in you. Something you didn’t want to face just yet.

You slammed the book shut, heart pounding in your chest, as if you'd been caught doing something wrong. The words on the pages still lingered in your mind, their heat echoing through your thoughts. But before you could shake the feeling off, a voice broke through the haze.

"Can I help you with something?"

You whipped around, startled, to see the man you had noticed earlier—the one sorting through books. He had a gentle yet curious expression, his eyes scanning you as though he were waiting for an answer.

You took a slow breath, trying to calm yourself. "No, thank you. I’m just looking."

He nodded, accepting your answer, but then turned to leave. However, before he could walk away, he glanced back over his shoulder, his voice low.

"If you're looking for something more… to your taste, there’s a literary room in the back," he said, his gaze flicking towards a door. "It's where we keep the rarer collections. The kind of books you might find interesting."

Your stomach dropped at the mention of the door, the memory of that night when Sunghoon had led you through it coming back like a rush of cold water. You quickly glanced at the door, unease crawling up your spine.

"Thank you," you managed, offering a tight smile.

He gave you a nod, before walking away.

You waited until the man disappeared into the next aisle before making your move. With a quick glance around to make sure no one was watching, you slipped toward the familiar door. Your heart pounded as you grasped the handle and slowly pushed it open, squeezing through the narrow gap and quietly closing it behind you.

You wasted no time, scanning the shelves for anything that would point you toward what you were looking for.

"Vampires... vampires..." you whispered to yourself as your fingers traced the spines of the worn books.

Minutes passed, and you found yourself with three books in your arms, each one titled with something related to the creatures of the night.

"The Blood Covenant: Tales of the Immortal"

"Nocturnal Desires: The History of the Nightwalkers"

"Marked by the Moon: The Forbidden Bond"

Your hands tightened around them as you glanced back toward the door. You still had the original book you’d found, making it a total of four. The unsettling feeling in your gut only grew stronger, but so did your curiosity.

What were you even hoping to find? Proof that what you saw in the alleyway wasn’t a hallucination? Or maybe... something that could explain Sunghoon and the strange pull he seemed to have over you?

Taking a shaky breath, you turned toward one of the small, round tables tucked between the shelves and set the books down. You hesitated for a moment before flipping open the first one.

As your eyes skimmed the pages, the words seemed to bleed into your mind, descriptions of ancient creatures who thrived in the shadows, who fed on human blood, who could manipulate and lure their prey with nothing more than a glance.

Your pulse quickened.

Because with every word you read, you realized...

It all sounded too much like Sunghoon.

Of course, it was only a hunch, a theory. Because in reality, vampires shouldn’t exist in this timeline... right? So he could not possibly be..

But there was never any solid proof that they didn’t.

And if the legends were true, vampires could live for hundreds of years. What if... this was one of those rare cases?

You shook your head, pushing the thought aside as you continued skimming through the books. Your eyes scanned the pages, absorbing every detail about ancient rituals, feeding habits, and the hypnotic allure that vampires possessed.

Time slipped away from you faster than you realized, and when you finally glanced at your watch, your eyes widened.

You were here way too long.

Quickly gathering the books in your arms, you slipped out of the room and made your way to the counter. The old woman, now wide awake, adjusted her glasses as she scanned the books one by one. The employee from earlier stood nearby, watching you with mild curiosity.

You paid for the books without much thought, too eager to get out of the shop and back to your dorm to properly dig through what you'd found.

As you turned to leave, the soft chime of the doorbell echoed through the quiet shop, and you stepped out into the streets.

What you didn’t notice, however, was the sneaky glance that passed between the old woman and the employee as you walked away with a bag full of vampire books.

Almost as if... they knew.

It wasn’t that dark outside, but the streets were quiet enough to make you uneasy. The streetlights barely illuminated the cracks in the pavement as you hurried along, clutching the bag of books tightly to your chest.

Your mind was racing with everything you'd read. The idea of vampires living among humans sounded absurd, but after what you'd seen in that alley...

You shook the thought away and picked up your pace.

What you failed to notice, however, was the shadow trailing behind you.

Silent footsteps echoed yours, perfectly in sync. Whoever it was, they were keeping a careful distance, blending into the dimly lit streets like a predator stalking its prey.

You turned a corner, the familiar sight of your dorm building coming into view, and felt a small wave of relief wash over you. Almost there.

But that relief was short-lived as you barely had time to react.

A cold, calloused hand clamped over your mouth, silencing the scream that tried to escape your throat. You were yanked backward, dragged effortlessly into the shadows of a nearby alleyway.

Your heart pounded violently in your chest as you thrashed against the grip, eyes wide and frantic as you tried to make sense of what was happening.

That’s when you saw him.

The man had eyes that glowed a deep, sinister red, and when he parted his lips, you saw them.

Fangs.

Sharp. Deadly. Hungering.

He leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over the sensitive skin of your neck.

You felt like you were going to be sick.

This wasn’t like the scenes from the book. There was no heat pooling in your stomach, no fluttering anticipation.

No, this was wrong.

The fear that coursed through your veins was paralyzing. Your body instinctively fought against him, twisting and struggling with every ounce of strength you could muster — but it was useless.

He was far too strong.

And the worst part?

You could feel it.

The way his cold lips brushed against your skin. The way he inhaled deeply, savoring your scent.

"You smell... divine," he murmured, voice dark and sickly sweet. "So much sweeter than any other human."

Your eyes burned with tears as you squirmed, panic clouding your mind.

He wasn’t going to stop.

He wasn’t going to spare you.

He would drain you dry, leave your lifeless body to rot in this alley, and move on to his next victim without a second thought.

No.

No, you couldn’t let that happen.

Your body moved on instinct as you kicked, elbowed, and clawed at him with everything you had. Your nails scraped against his face, but it was like scratching against stone.

“Stop—” you tried to scream against his hand, your voice muffled and desperate.

But he only chuckled darkly.

"Fight all you want," he sneered. "It only makes your blood taste better."

You felt the sharp point of his fangs press against your neck.

A wave of terror surged through you, and you writhed harder, adrenaline pumping through your veins as you fought tooth and nail to keep those fangs from piercing your skin.

But he was too strong.

You felt yourself slipping, your strength fading...

But before the vampire could sink his teeth in a blur of movement flashed before you, and suddenly the vampire was ripped away from you with inhuman force. You gasped for air as you saw the creature that had been about to kill you now pinned against the alley wall.

And the one who had saved you?

Sunghoon.

His eyes glowed a deep crimson, darker than the other vampire’s, and his fangs were fully bared as he snarled. “You dare touch what’s mine?” Sunghoon’s voice was dangerous, filled with a venom that sent chills down your spine.

The other vampire let out a guttural snarl, his eyes burning with rage as he lunged back at Sunghoon, claws out and fangs bared.

Sunghoon met him head-on, moving with inhuman speed as their bodies clashed. You stumbled back against the cold brick wall, heart hammering as you watched them move like shadows, too fast for your eyes to fully follow.

The sound of hissing and grunting echoed through the alley as Sunghoon drove his knee into the other vampire’s ribs, sending him crashing to the ground. But the creature didn’t stay down for long, leaping back up with blood dripping from his mouth and launching himself at Sunghoon once more.

Sunghoon caught him mid-air, slamming him against the wall with brutal force. The concrete cracked beneath the impact, and the other vampire let out a strangled cry as Sunghoon's grip tightened around his throat.

“Pathetic,” Sunghoon spat, his fangs glistening as he bared them.

The other vampire hissed, struggling against Sunghoon's hold, but he was clearly weaker.

Sunghoon twisted his arm, snapping bone as the creature howled in agony. Yet, even through the pain, the other vampire’s eyes flicked to you — hunger and desperation burning within them.

That only seemed to enrage Sunghoon further.

With a violent shove, Sunghoon threw the vampire to the ground, sending him skidding across the blood-stained pavement.

“Leave,” Sunghoon growled, his voice low and deadly. “Before I tear you apart.”

The other vampire coughed, blood dripping from his lips as he slowly scrambled to his feet, eyes narrowing at Sunghoon, before turning and disappearing into the shadows, limping and defeated.

You stood there, frozen in shock as the alley fell silent once more.

Sunghoon stood still in the dim light, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, his hair a mess and his clothes stained with a little blood. His fists remained clenched at his sides, the tension still radiating off him as his eyes remained fixed on the darkness where the other vampire had fled.

It was only when he turned to face you that you realized your legs felt weak, the adrenaline leaving your body as reality crashed down on you. Your legs gave out beneath you, but before you could hit the cold pavement, strong arms caught you.

Sunghoon was there, moving with inhuman speed as he wrapped an arm around your waist and steadied you against him. His grip was firm yet gentle, like he was afraid you might shatter in his hold.

"Easy," he murmured, his voice softer now.

Your hands instinctively clutched at the front of his shirt. Your breathing was ragged, your heart racing in your chest as the weight of everything you had just witnessed pressed down on you.

"You... you're really...," your voice trembled as you tried to form the words.

"A vampire," Sunghoon finished for you, his dark eyes watching you carefully, as if gauging your reaction.

You couldn't speak, your mind spinning with fear, confusion, and something dark and magnetic that drew you closer to him.

"I wasn't supposed to get involved," Sunghoon admitted, his gaze falling for a moment. "But when I saw him touch you, I couldn’t... I wouldn’t let him take what’s mine."

Your breath hitched at his words.

Sunghoon’s hand moved to gently cup the back of your head, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he tilted your face up to meet his eyes.

You wanted to push him away, to run as far as you could from whatever dark world you’d stumbled into. But your body refused to move. Instead, you leaned into him, your heart betraying your fear as it pounded relentlessly against your ribs.

"What... what happens now?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sunghoon’s eyes darkened, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip as he leaned in closer. "Now you stay with me," he whispered, his voice low. "I’ll keep you safe."

You opened your mouth to question, but before you could, his lips brushed over yours—a soft, slow kiss that was strangely gentle.

Your body froze, the kiss a shock that sent heat pooling in your stomach. The feel of Sunghoon’s lips, the dizzying sensation of his touch—it all became too much, too overwhelming. Your breath hitched as his grip on your neck tightened, not in a way that hurt, but in a way that made it clear he wasn’t letting go.

Your hands instinctively clutched at his arms, trying to ground yourself, to steady the rapid pounding of your heart.

Then, as if sensing your sudden hesitation, Sunghoon loosened his hold ever so slightly. His lips parted from yours just enough for you to catch your breath, his eyes searching yours. They weren’t glowing like before, but they still held an intensity that made your stomach flip.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured, his voice softer now. His thumb traced over your jawline in a slow, almost soothing motion. “Are you afraid of me?”

You swallowed thickly, unsure of how to answer. Were you afraid of him? The logical part of your mind screamed yes, you should be terrified. You had just been attacked, just seen something straight out of a nightmare. And yet, standing here in his arms, fear wasn’t what was keeping you frozen in place.

“I don’t know,” you admitted quietly.

Sunghoon’s fingers brushed against your cheek as he let out a slow exhale. “I’ll take you home,” he said after a moment, his voice gentle. “You need sleep.”

You should have protested, but the exhaustion in your body made it impossible to argue.

Sunghoon didn't let go of you as he led you toward the street, keeping his arm firmly around your waist as if he expected you to collapse at any moment.

Your steps felt heavy as you leaned more into Sunghoon’s side, your body weak and trembling. With every step, you could feel his body against yours, and it made your head spin. Being this close to him, his scent filling your senses, his arm wrapped tightly around you — it felt dangerous.

You risked a glance up at him, only to find Sunghoon’s jaw clenched tightly, his eyes fixed ahead. He looked tense, almost strained, like he was fighting some inner battle.

Was it because of what just happened? Or... was it because of you?

Your breath hitched when his grip on your waist tightened for a moment, his fingers pressing into your side as if grounding himself.

“Sunghoon…” you whispered, barely able to form words through the haze clouding your mind.

His eyes flickered to you, and for a brief second, they glowed that same deep crimson from before.

You felt your stomach drop.

He quickly looked away, jaw tightening even more as he swallowed thickly.

“You shouldn’t look at me like that,” he murmured, voice strained.

“Like... what?” you asked, your voice shaky.

“Like you want me to lose control.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

You didn’t know what Sunghoon was holding back, but whatever it was... you wanted him to break. "I-I don't…" you tried to deny it, but the way your body leaned into him, the way your eyes kept drifting to his lips, told a different story.

Sunghoon let out a shaky breath, his grip on you tightening as if he was afraid you'd slip away.

"You don't get it," he whispered, his voice strained. "I’m not… myself. Not around you."

Your heart skipped a beat.

"But you keep coming around me," you murmured. "Why?"

He let out a bitter chuckle, his head tilting slightly as he looked at you. "Because I can't stay away," he admitted, his gaze burning. "Your scent, your blood… everything about you calls to me."

Your breath hitched.

This wasn’t normal. None of this was. Yet, here you were, walking through the streets with a man who quite literally fought off another creature of the night to protect you. And now, he was saying things that sent shivers down your spine — things that should terrify you… but instead, they pulled you in deeper.

You were already too far gone.

Before you could respond, your knees buckled slightly, your body still weak from everything that had happened. Sunghoon caught you effortlessly, pulling you closer to him. His strength reminded you once again that he wasn’t human.

"Come on, let's get you back," he muttered, his voice softer now as he contiouned guided you through the empty streets.

The world around you felt hazy, your mind clouded with too many questions, too many feelings. But one thing was clear — Sunghoon was dangerous. But you couldn’t help but want to know more.

More about him.

More about the darkness he was hiding.

You wanted to know what it felt like to make him lose control.

You were dangerous — too dangerous for Sunghoon.

After that night, when the truth of what he was had unraveled before your eyes, he tried to stay away. He gave you space, expecting you to react like any human would — fear, anger, or maybe the desire to drive a wooden stake through his heart.

But you didn’t.

On the surface, you acted like everything was normal. You went to class, hung out with your friends, and lived your life as if the darkness that lurked beneath the world you knew hadn’t brushed against you.

But Sunghoon could feel you.

He felt the way your heart beat faster whenever he was near. The way your breath hitched when his gaze lingered on you for too long. The way your body, your soul, seemed to call for him, even when your mind tried to resist.

And it pleased him.

Because your body already knew what you refused to admit — that you belonged to him.

He didn’t need to chase you. He didn’t need to lure you in with empty promises or sweet words. No, Sunghoon knew it was only a matter of time before you came to him.

After all, he had chosen you as his human lover.

No.

Claimed.

But it seemed like his fellow brethren of the night did not get the memo.

He felt the lingering stares from strangers in dark corners, shadows that seemed to follow you no matter where you went, even when you were not alone.

Cause they could smell you.

The way your blood called to them, sweet and irresistible. The fact that Sunghoon had laid claim to you only made it worse. Because now, you were not just a measly human.

You were marked.

And vampires were drawn to what they couldn’t have.

It was driving Sunghoon insane.

Every night, he could sense them lurking nearby, watching you with hungry eyes, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. And every night, he fought the urge to rip them apart.

Because if they dared touch what was his...

There would be no mercy.

Yet, the thought of scaring you, of pushing you further away, held him back.

So, instead, he followed you from the shadows, protecting you from the monsters that hid in the darkness.

You didn’t know it yet, but the only reason you were still breathing was because Park Sunghoon had already decided that you were his.

Forever.

You were struggling.

Every day that went by where Sunghoon acted like you didn’t exist made something in you shrivel and cry.

You wanted his attention. But at the same time, you didn’t.

Because this was what you wanted, wasn’t it? For him to stay away from you?

But that was back when you thought he was just some weirdo lurking around campus. Well, you still did. But now, he was a handsome weirdo. And more importantly—a handsome weirdo who could snap your neck effortlessly if he wanted to.

That should have been enough to keep you away. It should have made you relieved that he was ignoring you.

But it didn’t.

Instead, it made your chest ache, made your fingers twitch with the urge to reach for him, made your mind spiral every time you caught a glimpse of him in the distance.

Because no matter how much he tried to pretend you didn’t exist, you could feel it.

His gaze.

He was still watching you.

Still lurking in the shadows.

Still waiting.

And despite every logical thought in your mind screaming at you to run... You wanted him to come back.

You wanted him to come back to you.

To hold you.

To kiss you.

To bite you.

And that insane thought? It all stemmed from that stupid vampire romance book you kept hidden under your pillow.

It really wasn’t your fault.

The words in that book were too tempting, too dark, too lustful.

The idea of something ancient and supernatural desiring a mere human woman with such obsession, such hunger...

It sent shivers down your spine when you’d read the vampire’s point of view—how he’d describe his love, his yearning, his absolute need to have her, to consume her in every way possible.

It made your heart race.

It made your body ache.

And it made you realize...

That was the kind of love you’d craved all your life.

Something dangerous.

Something eternal.

Something that would ruin you.

And Sunghoon?

He was the perfect monster for it.

Every night before bed, you found yourself returning to the book.

Over and over again.

The words blurred together as your eyes skimmed each page, but you didn’t need to read every line anymore—you knew them by heart.

Your bottom lip was caught between your teeth, your fingers trembling slightly as you felt the flutter of hidden butterflies in your stomach.

Your skin would flush, heat creeping up your neck as you read about the vampire’s longing.

And then, when you went to bed only to wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, your mind would be tangled.

A dream of Sunghoon.

A dream you wanted to experience in real life.

You wanted to feel his touch—the way his fingers would press into your skin, as if he knew exactly where to make you ache.

You wanted to feel his fangs, how they would scrape gently against your neck before finally sinking in, claiming you in the most primal way possible.

And as the fantasy lingered in your mind, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were no longer just reading about it.

You were craving it.

And you were starting to wonder if it was only a matter of time before Sunghoon would make you feel it.

You knew you shouldn’t be thinking this way, but the urge was undeniable. The way Sunghoon had stayed distant—emotionless, cold, and detached—was making something inside of you burn with frustration. You couldn’t stand it. You needed him to crack, to show even a hint of that desire he clearly had for you.

It was maddening how composed he was, how he kept his distance, even though you knew—deep down, you knew—he was just as drawn to you as you were to him.

Vampires weren’t just creatures of the night—they were predators. They thrived on control, yes, but they also thrived on hunger, desire, and need.

But Sunghoon was strong, and composed. Every time you thought you saw a crack in that exterior, it was quickly sealed, leaving you desperate.

You cursed under your breath, frustrated by how easily he resisted. Why couldn’t he just give in?

Wasn’t this what he wanted too?

You didn’t chase, you never did. But there was something about Sunghoon that had your thoughts spiraling. You didn’t want to keep playing this game of push and pull, but you knew that the temptation would soon be too much for him. Vampires, after all, went feral under the right circumstances. And Sunghoon? He was no different.

His control would snap eventually. You were sure of it.

It was only a matter of time.

You just needed to give him that little helpful push.

Make him crave you more than he ever had before.

You had a plan—nothing too drastic, just subtle enough to see if he would slip.

You just needed to tempt him a little bit.

You knew what you were doing. You could feel it in your veins, the heat of the game you were playing, and the temptation building between you and Sunghoon. The subtlety of your actions was a carefully calculated move, a challenge thrown directly at him, whether he realized it or not.

You started small, just enough to get his attention.

You wore shirts that left your neck exposed, the skin just there for him to notice. You let your hair fall just right, grazing your shoulders, drawing the eye. When he would stare—and you knew he was staring—you would play it off, biting your bottom lip or twirling your pen in your fingers like you weren’t aware of the effect you were having on him. But deep down, you knew. You felt the shift when his eyes lingered longer than they should even if he tried to hide it.

And then, you started getting even bolder. In class, you’d casually lean into the guy sitting next to you, letting your laughter sound just a little too loud. You’d let your hand brush against his, acting oblivious to the way Sunghoon’s eyes would flash in your direction. Every glance, every flicker of jealousy you noticed, fed the fire inside you.

You didn’t need to chase him, not really. You knew Sunghoon’s pride wouldn’t allow him to come to you unless you made him. And so, you teased, gently pushing him to the edge without a single word.

Sometimes, you could see the tension in his posture, the way his jaw clenched, or how his fingers tightened into fists when his gaze locked on you. And when you caught his stare, you would give him that smile, the one that spoke louder than words, daring him to break.

It was a game, a dangerous one, and you were playing it to perfection.

You never expected it to happen like this. The tension you had been so carefully building, the game you thought you were controlling, had taken a turn you hadn’t anticipated. And that turn came the moment you stepped out of the cafeteria, your mind still buzzing with the satisfaction of teasing Sunghoon, of drawing him in little by little, only to have him slip into the kind of state you’d been aiming for.

You headed inside to the bathroom, absentmindedly running your fingers through your hair, still riding the high of your victory. You stood in front of the mirror, adjusting your top just a little to make sure it was perfectly placed. You knew Sunghoon had been watching, and the idea of that made your heart race with excitement. You were about to put on a layer of lip gloss when the door to the bathroom swung open with a loud, forceful bang.

You looked up in the mirror, expecting to see another female student—maybe one of the girls from class, who always seemed to pop in to check their reflection—but the sight that met you was far from what you expected.

Sunghoon.

He stood in the doorway, his presence instantly consuming the room. His hair was a mess, the strands messy and wild as if he had run his fingers through it over and over, tugging at it in frustration. His grip on the door was so tight his knuckles were white, and the sound of the door slamming shut behind him sent a wave of tension through the air.

And his eyes.

Those glowing, red eyes. They were locked on you, burning with an intensity that made your stomach drop. The same intensity you had been teasing, pulling at with every little move you made, but now, it was so much darker, so much more dangerous than you could have ever imagined.

His mouth was slightly open, and for the first time, you saw it. His fangs. Long, sharp, and hungry. Your heart skipped a beat.

He looked like a predator on the hunt.

His jaw was tight, his entire body rigid with the effort to hold back whatever was boiling inside of him. But you could tell. He wasn’t holding back anymore. Not with you.

"Sunghoon..." you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. But the way his name left your lips felt so... different now. Almost like you were calling to a stranger. Something had shifted, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to know what that meant.

He didn’t speak, his lips curling back into a barely controlled snarl, his eyes never leaving you.

You backed up away from the mirror, but it didn’t matter. Sunghoon was already moving toward you, his steps slow but sure, like he was walking toward his prey. You felt your breath catch in your throat, your instincts screaming at you to run. But your body was frozen, captivated by the way he looked at you—like you were both the prize and the challenge.

You hadn’t expected him to break so completely. The way he stalked toward you, the hunger in his eyes, it was almost as if he had been holding onto his restraint just for you. But now?

Now he was done.

"Do you have any idea what you’ve done?" he said, his voice low, the growl in it sending a shiver down your spine. Every word was laced with that dangerous edge, the one you had known was buried deep inside him. And now, there was nothing left to hide it.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. This wasn’t how you had imagined it. You hadn’t expected him to break now, not when you had just been playing with fire.

But Sunghoon? He was fire.

And now, he was burning everything.

You felt your heart racing, panic starting to surge through you as you kept backing up. "Sunghoon, wait!" you tried, your voice barely steady as you looked around, desperately hoping for some sense of reason to return to him. "This isn’t the right place! You can’t—"

But Sunghoon didn’t seem to hear you. His focus was so intense, his gaze locked on your neck, it was as though nothing else in the world mattered to him.

“Sunghoon, please!” You tried to push him back, your hands pressing against his chest in a weak attempt to stop him, but he was unyielding. With a speed you couldn’t keep up with, he grabbed both of your wrists, holding them in place with a force that left no room for resistance.

Before you could react, he pulled you toward him, dragging you into a random booth, and with a loud click, the door behind you was locked.

The coolness of the booth's wall pressed against your back as Sunghoon backed you into it. His grip on your wrists remained tight, and then, before you could say another word, his lips were on yours.

It was everything you wanted, intense and desperate, with no control. And the feeling of his fangs grazing your lip sent a jolt of something through you.

Then, the sharp pain.

A soft nick from his fangs, and before you could even process it, blood welled up on your bottom lip. And with a quiet, almost satisfied sound, he licked the blood from your lip, his tongue brushing gently against the small wound.

The sensation sent an unexpected rush of heat through your body, but it only intensified the swirling mess of thoughts in your mind.

Sunghoon suddenly pulled back, his eyes filled with desire, as he licked the blood from his lips. A deep groan rumbled from his chest, and for the first time, you saw the full extent of his struggle. His usually composed and controlled demeanor was gone, replaced with a raw, animalistic hunger.

Before you could even process what was happening, Sunghoon’s hand was at your neck, tilting it to the side. You barely had time to gasp before you felt the sharp sting of his fangs sinking into your skin.

Your body tensed in response, but the sensation of his fangs breaking through the surface of your skin was like nothing you’d ever experienced. It wasn’t pain—it was something else that pulled at you, making you feel both afraid and captivated all at once. His lips were against your skin now, and you could feel him drinking, each pull sending a dizzying wave of sensations through your body.

You should’ve been scared. You should’ve pulled away. But the way he held you, the way he drank so deeply, it was overwhelming in the most confusing way. Your mind screamed at you to stop him, to get away, but your body was betraying you, craving his touch, his closeness.

Sunghoon didn’t stop. He drank from you slowly, as though he couldn’t get enough. And in that moment, all you could do was stay still, lost in the pull.

As Sunghoon continued to drink from you, you felt your knees shaking, the strength slowly draining from your body. Every pull burned, everything inside you was on fire. Your whole body was buzzing, alive in a way that was almost too much to handle. You could feel your pulse in your neck, each beat, and with each pull, it felt like your very soul was being drawn into him.

If not for Sunghoon holding you against the wall, you would’ve collapsed on the floor right then and there. His grip was firm, keeping you upright as your legs became too weak to hold you up. You barely had the strength to breathe, your breath shallow as you fought to stay conscious.

You felt every second pass as he drank, the heat spreading through your body, mingling with the growing weakness. His body was pressed so close to yours that you could feel the tension in every muscle, the way his chest rose and fell with each breath, the way his lips moved against your skin as he drank from you. And yet, through all the overwhelming sensations, part of you wanted it to continue. A twisted, needy part of you craved more, even though you knew this was dangerous, that this wasn’t normal.

When he finally pulled away, he huffed softly, wiping the remnants of blood from his chin with the back of his hand. His gaze remained sharp, studying you intently. He tilted your jaw slightly, his fingers firm as he examined the mark he'd left on your neck.

You stared up at him, your mind still dazed, trying to process everything that had just happened. Your pulse still raced, and your body trembled, not just from the draining sensation but also from the lingering heat in your veins.

Without warning, Sunghoon leaned in again, his lips brushing against yours in a soft kiss, gentle, almost hesitant, as if he were waiting for you to pull away. But you didn’t.

His hand, still on your jaw, moved to cradle your face, his thumb gently caressing your skin as he deepened the kiss. There was something both tender and urgent in the way he kissed you now, it made you forget about the chaos of everything else.

For a moment, you lost yourself in it, letting the kiss stretch on, unable to think clearly. You didn’t know where this would lead, what would happen next, but right now, in his embrace, you didn’t feel the need to fight it.

It was only when the reality of the situation began to settle in, and your body started to weaken from the blood loss, that you slowly pulled back, your breath shallow, your head spinning.

Sunghoon’s eyes remained fixed on you, you could feel him still holding on to the edge of control, but only just.

He gently cupped your face, tilting your chin up so you could meet his eyes. “You’re exhausted,” he murmured, his voice soft but firm. “Sleep. You need rest.”

His words were like a soothing balm, and before you even realized it, your eyelids fluttered, heavy with the weight of everything that had happened.

He moved closer, his arms sliding around you to support your frame as you swayed against him. “I’ll take care of you now,” he whispered, his voice barely a breath.

And with that, like a spell, your eyes closed. The last thing you felt was him holding you close.

Waking up to soft sheets after having the best sleep you'd ever had was something you did not expect. More so, you did not expect a heavy arm draped around your waist.

Your breath hitched as you slowly turned your head, only to find Sunghoon lying beside you, his face relaxed and peaceful in sleep. The usual sharpness in his features had softened, and for a moment, you forgot about everything that led you to this moment.

You carefully tried to shift, but his arm only pulled you closer, his face burying into the crook of your neck as he let out a soft sigh. The sensation sent shivers down your spine.

You wanted to try and get up, maybe find your phone and at least get your bearings, because honestly, being this close to Sunghoon was doing something to you.

Your fingers gently tried to peel his hand off your waist, but it was much harder than you expected. His grip was firm like he had no intention of letting you go. You were so focused on your little escape plan that you failed to notice the subtle shift in his breathing or the fact that his eyes were now open, silently watching you.

It was only when his hand suddenly moved, effortlessly flipping you onto your back, that your heart jumped to your throat. Your eyes met his, and the intensity in his gaze made your breath hitch.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Sunghoon murmured, his voice low as he hovered over you.

Your breath caught in your throat as Sunghoon’s face stood mere inches from yours. It was enough to make your head spin.

"I marked you," he whispered, his fingers tracing the faint bite on your neck. "Do you really think I’ll let you go that easily?"

Your mind screamed at you to push him away, to run, to escape this strange pull he had on you. But your heart, your very soul, seemed to crave him.

"I-I just wanted my phone," you stammered, voice barely above a whisper.

Sunghoon's lips curled into a faint smirk. "Your phone can wait."

Before you could respond, he leaned down, brushing his lips softly against your neck, right where his mark was. The sensation sent shivers down your spine, making you grip the sheets beneath you.

"So beautiful," he murmured against your skin.

Your heart pounded wildly as he slowly pulled back, studying your flushed face with a look that made your stomach twist. He looked... satisfied. Like a predator who had successfully caught his prey.

He brushed your hair away from your face, fingers trailing down your cheek, tracing the curve of your jaw, and slowly moving down to your neck. His touch was light, almost teasing, before he traveled lower, fingers grazing over your waist and resting on your hips.

He leaned in, his breath hot against your neck as he inhaled deeply, a low curse slipping from his lips. "You smell so damn good," he murmured, his lips brushing against your jawline as he slowly worked his way down to your neck. "Do you know how hard it is... to resist you?"

Your breath hitched as he inhaled deeply, his fangs grazing your skin ever so lightly, swallowing hard, you tried to inch back, but Sunghoon’s grip tightened as he dragged you right back against him.

"You're being a brat," he muttered, eyes burning into yours. "Denying me when you know exactly what I want."

Your heart raced as his hand kept you trapped against him.

"Why do you keep running from me?" Sunghoon's voice dropped to a whisper, filled with something almost... desperate. "You already belong to me."

Your lips parted to respond, but before you could speak, he leaned in, brushing his fangs against your neck once more.

A shiver ran down your spine as his fangs barely grazed your skin, sending a wave of heat through your body. You could feel your pulse quickening, and Sunghoon, with his heightened senses, could too. He was toying with you, testing your limits, waiting for you to give in completely.

"Please stop resisting," he murmured. "I know what you crave," his lips brushing against your ear. "That burning desire for a love that consumes you. A love that makes you feel wanted... worshipped."

Your breath hitched as his words pierced through every wall you'd tried to build around your heart.

"I've felt your loneliness," he continued, "how hopeless you've been, aching for someone to truly see you. To make you feel alive."

Your eyes fluttered shut as his touch sent shivers down your spine.

"I can be that for you," Sunghoon said, voice low and filled with something dark. "I can give you everything you've ever dreamed of. I'll worship you... as the woman you are. My woman."

Your head spun at his words, your body reacting before your mind could catch up.

"You... you want me that badly?" you asked, barely able to speak.

Sunghoon chuckled darkly. "More than you'll ever know."

Your heart pounded so loudly, you were sure he could hear it. And as much as you wanted to deny it, he was right. You’d unable to resist the pull he had on you.

“I… I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice trembling.

Sunghoon’s expression softened, and he gently tilted your chin so you could meet his eyes.

“Of me?” he asked quietly.

You hesitated. “Of what I’m becoming… because of you.”

His gaze darkened with something unreadable, and for a moment, you thought he might pull away. But instead, he leaned in closer, his lips brushing yours in a barely-there kiss.

“You don’t need to be afraid,” he said softly. “I’ll take care of you. Always.”

And with that, he kissed you fully, this time with more passion and longing. You felt yourself melting into him, all your resistance crumbling as his hands gripped your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

When he finally pulled back, his breath was ragged, eyes glowing crimson as he rested his forehead against yours. But it wasn’t enough for him. Not even close.

“Please…” Sunghoon’s voice trembled as he slipped down to your neck, his lips brushing against your skin, leaving trails of kisses that sent shivers down your spine. “I need another taste.”

You felt his hands tighten around you as he pressed his body closer, his desperation pouring into every touch, every kiss. “I’ve been holding back… for so long. But I can’t anymore.” he murmured, his fangs grazing your skin.

Your heart raced at his words, and the way he was losing control because of you made your head spin.

“Sunghoon…” you whispered, unsure whether to give in or stop him.

But he groaned softly against your neck, his lips lingering as he begged once more, “Please... let me have all of you."

Your body betrayed you as you tilted your head slightly, giving him access to your neck. And with that silent permission Sunghoon’s fangs pierced your skin just above your collarbone. A sharp sting shot through you before it melted into something strangely euphoric.

Your breath hitched as he latched on, drinking from you slowly, It was nothing like the violent and ruthless feeding from before. No, this was different, it was like he was savoring every drop, as if your blood was the very thing keeping him alive.

Your fingers instinctively tangled in his hair, holding him closer despite the dizziness slowly creeping in. His hands gripped your waist, steadying you as he drank deeper, letting soft groans escape between sips.

You should’ve been terrified. But instead, you felt… wanted. Craved. Like you truly belonged to him.

When he finally pulled back, his lips were stained crimson, and his eyes, glowing with hunger, softened as they met yours.

“You taste... unreal,” he whispered, running his tongue over the fresh puncture marks as if soothing the wound he’d left behind, savoring every drop of your blood as if he couldn’t get enough. The warmth of his breath fanned against your skin, sending shivers down your spine as he licked the remaining crimson from your neck.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes — clouded with hunger — locked onto yours. The sight of him, with blood staining his lips and his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, made your heart race uncontrollably.

“Sunghoon…” you mumbled, barely above a whisper.

At the sound of his name, a desperate groan escaped him, and before you could react, he leaned in once more. His fangs sank into the soft skin near your throat, sharper and more urgent this time.

Your breath hitched as your body tensed, but soon, that familiar wave of pleasure and dizziness washed over you.

You weakly pulled him closer as he fed from you with a hunger he could no longer control. You felt yourself slipping, your mind clouding, but Sunghoon’s hold on you tightened, keeping you steady against him.

The world outside faded, and all that remained was the vampire who had claimed you, body and soul.

a/n: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! i love desperate and feral men! whos with me!? :D anyways i hoped you enjoyed reading! reblogs and commentary are welcomed! ^^ (Divider made by @kodaswrld )

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[courtneyloveattack]

Why as a society do we allow neurodivergent men to be as viciously misogynistic or violent as they please? It starts in the schools. I can remember back to elementary school when there was a group of autistic students, both male and female. The boys were just allowed to lash out and hit girls with absolutely no repercussions. In fact, if any of the affected girls tried talking to a teacher or supervisor, they would just be given a lecture on being more understanding of special needs classmates?? As we got older, those same boys tried to inappropriately touch girls and would get angry when they didn’t like it. Same story. Teachers said they’re too autistic to understand “no.” Firstly, they never will if you never try. Secondly, who actually cares if they understand or not??? Just keep them away from their female classmates because they are causing problems. Don’t just allow it to continue because they’re autistic

I think we just give neurodivergent men a lot more grace than we do to neurodivergent women or girls who act offensively

[rightnewshindi]

छात्राओं को गलत तरीके से छूता था डांस टीचर, अभिभावकों ने कर डाली कुटाई; वीडियो हुआ वायरल

Uttar Pradesh News: महराजगंज जिले में एक कॉन्वेंट स्कूल में डांस टीचर द्वारा छात्राओं के साथ अनुचित व्यवहार करने का मामला सामने आया है। निचलौल रोड स्थित इस स्कूल में डांस सिखाने के नाम पर छात्राओं को गलत तरीके से छूने का आरोप लगा है। मामले का वीडियो सोशल मीडिया पर तेजी से वायरल हो रहा है, जिसमें आक्रोशित अभिभावक स्कूल में हंगामा करते और आरोपी टीचर की पिटाई करते नजर आ रहे हैं। स्थानीय सूत्रों के…

[hoshigray]

hellooo! i had an idea i wanted to add onto the sukuna smut you had where he was rebellious student and she was the student body. i was thinking about the reader taking charge of sukuna even after he talked about how she would be under him.

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: omfg FINALLY i have time to do this req!! second part to this request.

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Sukuna x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern setting; Sukuna and you are college seniors - degradation (bitch, slut, whore) - impact play (spanking) - prone bone + cowgirl positions - breast play + nipple play - cervix fucking- dick piercing (frenulum) - unprotected sex (psa: don't be silly; wrap the willy) - creampies - overstimulation - clitoral play (friction/grinding) - pet names (brat, good girl, pet, princess, woman) - implied blackmail - Sukuna being a sadist fuck, per usual - mention of drool/spit.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.2k

“—Khhh! Ahaaa, fuuck, ‘Ryoo, slow do—Ahhnn!!”

“Nnnmm…Heh, dumb pet; think you have any right to tell me what to do…”

Being the president of the student body entails many responsibilities. It’s a highly respectable title expected to be exhibited by the poisest of souls—a soul that you behold and have been recognized with for the past four years of your college life. 

Senior year, a time that was supposed to be a smooth sail, unexpectedly brought its own set of challenges. Despite meticulously planning your major and minor courses, the final year turned out to be a juggling act, with five classes and the added responsibilities of extracurriculars and student government. But at the very least, it’s nothing you- student president- can’t handle.

What is one thing you can’t handle, however, is the man who has you all naked and sweating on his red satin sheets.

Sukuna has you face down to the mattress, a hand on your head to keep your cheek smooshed to the silky sheet, while the other pins you down by the waist. From behind, he ruts into your bare ass with a rough pace, jackhammering his cock into your wet cunt that’s already stuffed with his come from the rounds prior. 

Being in a situation like this is not what you envisioned would happen in your last year of college — let alone with the likes of him. You’d rather wring your own neck than be within arm’s length of Ryōmen Sukuna’s perimeter. The named senior has been on your shit list for the past three years, fucking delinquent, only doing what he wants for his pleasure, rules be damned. 

The exact aspect goes along with you, too; the only reason why you’re allowing this bastard to touch you like this is because of the material he has to bring your reputation down—all these years of hard work threatened to crumble down because of some inappropriate pictures and videos of you. To him, he could care less about releasing them and seeing your life diminish before his very eyes. As for you, you couldn’t let that happen, unable to sleep at night knowing the man you hate with your very being has shit on you for his petty enjoyment. 

So here you are, in the sole bedroom of his apartment, stripped of your clothes, your titles, and your dignity. All bare and nude for this vile man to see and use you as he sees fit in the most raunchy ways. I hate this so much...

“Hey, whore. Quit squirmin’ around like that, and let me finish you off.”

Sukuna slaps your ass for the tenth time that night, the skin of your butt hot and stinging with pain from the impacts and pinches of his nails. The sore feeling spreads with the crash of his pelvis slamming on your rear and his girthy dick churning the velvety texture of your insides. Each pound rocks you to submission, drool exiting your lips to the sheets and sticks to your chin. You’re sure you look like an idiot, all tousled because of his rough demeanor. Too angry with yourself that you fight the tears. I hate this so fucking much…

“—Ohhh!!” You wail out, eyes rolling up to your skull from the brush of your cervix. “Nnoohh!! F-Fuuuck! Ahaahnn...!”

The man above you snickers wickedly. “Keheh, look at you, crying like a real bitch in heat.” Another slap to your asscheek has you scream some more; your vocals are dragged out by his fingernails, piercing your inflamed skin. “Shit, can never get enough of this tight pussy. Never expected someone like you to be so good at wringing cock, prez.”

“Mmmph…! Go f–fuck yer’self, Ryōmen…” Even if he has your head pinned, your persistence furls you to throw a glare his way. 

But it only humors the tattooed senior above you. “And bore myself when there’s a perfect piece of ass that can take me?” He slams his pelvis harshly and jabs to your cervix by the tip prompts tears to strike down. “Though you were smarter than that, woman.”

You grit your teeth when Sukuna increases the speed of his thrusts; the piercing of his frenulum rubs on your inner walls without fail. Toes curl from another hard smack to your butt, nearly biting the skin of your bottom lip from yet another twinge of pain. 

“Taaah, ughhh, ohmyGoood…!” You can sense your cunt begin to throb–your orgasm is about to hit. “Su’kunaa, please slow downnn, I’m so–I’m gonna…Mmfffaaa!!”

Shocks tingle up your spine with the climb of your climax crashing down, your vagina contracting around the girthy length burrowing deep inside you. Howls are expressed with a euphoric tone despite the soreness of your poor, aching body. And Sukuna groans at the feeling of you clamping onto him, using slow movements of his hips to enjoy the contraction.

“Hnngh..! Dumb brat, thinkin’ you’re free to cum without my say-so.” A playful slap to your butt has you jolt, your figure still sensitive with your hazy high. It’s not like I didn’t tell you to slow down, you asshole. You sharply gasp at the withdrawal of his member, and his load exudes out with a sloppy force that messes your inner thighs. He then bends to your ear, his cold, sweaty chest sticking to your back. “Dirty slut chasin’ for yer own release. Have you no shame, princess?”

Stop talking to me… You were disgusted by the shudder you felt as he licked your ear.

“Thanks to you, I’m still hard,” he rubs his solid dick on the crevice of your ass, his come-coated member erotically grinding on the soft flesh. “Now stay fucking still ‘till I’m done with you—”

Rarely does Sukuna find himself perplexed. One moment, he’s proudly stationed above you. Then, you surprised him by rolling him to his back in a flash. The action takes him aback–somewhat amazed you could take his weight–and he sees your figure come over with your legs on either side of his waist. 

Now, you were on top of him—a rarity that neither of you expected.

Pinkish orange brows remain neutral, yet his piercing scarlet eyes bore holes into your frame. “And just the hell do you think you’re doing?” 

“What it looks like I’m doing.” You reply with a tiny malice — enough you knew wouldn’t get you into too much trouble with the man you’re on top of. Your hand grasps on Sukuna’s cock and strokes the erect limb. “I’m finishing you off.”

Did you gulp at the motion of a single brow being lifted? Of course you did. Albeit you were stubbornly confident, you’d be a fool if you weren’t frightened. Yet the man sneered after a few brief seconds. “Is that right? The president thinks they can do all the work, huh.” You observed Sukuna bringing his hands to relax behind his head, “Well, what are you waitin’ for? Take care of your fellow student, Miss Prez.”

I hate his ass so fucking much—you can only express your disdain through your inner dialogue, wanting nothing but to wipe that evil sneer off his tattooed face. Yet you know that’s not what’s expected of you now. So, with a gulp and a slow inhale, your hips are pulled up by yourself, and your hand guides the pulsing length in your grasp to your leaking slit. 

You gasp at the contact of his glans kissing your labia, the sight of the some dripping from your vagina sticking to Sukuna’s girth was too repulsive to the eye. Humiliation continues to shrink your core at the display before you. “Don’t keep me waiting, woman. Or I’ll go back and do the job myself, seeing you’re too scared.” The salmon-haired man doesn’t flinch at your scowl. 

“Don’t rush me, Ryōmen,” you threaten with gritted teeth, chewing on your bottom lip as you bring your ass down to take in the fat tip once more. The pain has you wince for a few seconds, hoping to God that the man below doesn’t get too impatient enough to slam you down on his cock himself because you know he wouldn’t give a damn if you’d be in pain or not.

But it does enter you; a sharp gasp erupted out of your frame at the scrape of his frenulum piercing back inside. Your hands involuntarily find something to keep your balance steady, using his chest to do the job.

As for Sukuna, his crimson eyes were honed in on you, taking in every detail of your expressions, your shaky voice, and the twitches of your body as your cunt swallowed every inch of his shaft back into your warmth until you reached the very hilt. “Good girl,” he scoffs at the sudden squeeze of your walls on him. “Don’t let a little praise get to your head; start moving, pet.”

You release a gradual sigh, and your hips begin to move. Your nerves are still under the effects of the recent climax, so your inner walls are still keen as every graze of Sukuna’s tip and piercing has you tremble like a leaf. It almost makes you scared to move entirely, thinking one wrong move will break you. 

“C’mon, Y/n,” you gasp at Sukna’s hands, finding your exposed chest to grope. “Is this the best you can do? With those slow-ass hips?”

You knew he meant to entice you, yet it was working. Your waist gauges the speed of your rhythm, now bouncing on Sukuna’s length with a purpose despite your sensitive nerves having you mewl. And your shrills come out slurred at the rough tweak of your nipples. This fool has no gentle bone in his body, using your sore body in whatever interests him. 

“Mmnngh, yeah, like that,” Sukuna purrs, fondling your breasts with fingers hungry for their flesh to play and tease. “Harder” wasn’t something to question—a simple demand you had to indulge in. You flatten your mouth as you bring your hips down more to the point that the skin of your ass hits his groin and thighs. “Harder,” he commands again, your hips now slamming hard down on him, and you shake at the poke of your cervix, nails digging into his pectorals. And the black-marked man snickers at the display. “Harder.”

You couldn’t keep your frame upright; another pound of your hips onto him caused another poke of your cervix, resulting in you losing your balance and your body falling onto Sukuna’s, who barks a laugh. “Tah, pathetic, can’t even stay upright when taking my cock.” And to make it worse, he criticizes you, his hands now moving to your butt to squeeze and slap onto. “I like the view, though. Not every day do I see a pretty face above me like this.” You scream at the buck of his hips, his dick rubbing on your G-spot with precision. “Just need some help to ease your incompetence, princess.” 

Oh, you hated how close your face was to his; if you weren’t so dazed, you’d spit at him. “—Tch, s-shut up, ‘Kunaa! Go die—Eeyaahh!” Another slap on your asscheek and graze on the upper wall of your cunt has you shrieking.

“Not a chance,” his face gets closer to yours. “Wouldn’t give you the satisfaction…” And then your moan is muffled with the addition of his lips onto yours, the Ryōmen Sukuna kissing you.

When the night couldn’t get any worse, here is Sukuna shoving his tongue into your mouth, exchanging his saliva with yours as your tongue swirls with his before he sucks on it. Fucking sickening, the nerve of this fucker! You hate how passionate the kiss became as his thrusts coincided with yours, getting faster and faster as your teeth clashed with his. My God, just fucking cum already!

You decided it was time to end this session once and for all, the pace of your hips going erratic. Every bounce of your ass came with a twinge of your cunt around Sukuna’s member; the groans he expresses into your lips are just what you’re looking for. And the more you bend forward, the friction of your clitoris grinding on his pelvis gets better. At least you’re getting some pleasure out of this…

You knew he was close to chasing his orgasm the moment his ruts to your cunt synced with yours, so it’s no surprise his fingers grip your butt and keep you grounded on him as he spills another load into you. Fuck, you can feel his cock pulsating inside you, and you can only imagine how messy it looks down there once you’re finally off of him.

Even as he’s experiencing the shocks and trembles of his release, Sukuna doesn’t break the kiss until the very end. A hand comes to the back of your head, keeping your face and mouth on him, deepen the kiss and take your breath away (literally). And once your bodies calm down, his lips finally withdraw from yours, leaving you two panting heavily among yourselves. Spit connects to your lips, but you quickly break the link with your hand covering your mouth.

“Ya know,” Sukuna breathlessly chuckles while his other hand kneads the flesh of your butt. “Think you’re startin’ to enjoy this just as much as I am.”

Eyes narrow at his words, and you turn to the side to spit his saliva out of your mouth. You wipe your mouth with a tiny grin. “You fucking wish…”

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header edit done by me + dividers by @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[angel-sweets666]

making out with mr aizawa

shouta aizawa x reader one shot

aizawas never had a crush on a ex student, never. That’s inappropriate. But when you reach your 3rd year at UA and turn 18/19/20, his drunken self manages to blurt out his longing for you.

mentions of katsuki bakugo x reader

YOU ARE OF LEGAL AGE, A ADULT, NO PEDOS. I DONT WRITE FOR PEDOS

Warning: alchohol ,making out, Mentions of sex. age gap (ur 18-20 years old and he’s around 33

You nervously waited for your name to be called, heart pounding as you anticipated your moment on stage. Three long years at UA High School were finally paying off; soon, you would be a pro hero. "Mina Ashido," Present Mic's voice boomed through the auditorium, snapping you out of your thoughts. You watched as your pink-haired friend happily skipped up to the stage, her carefree demeanor hiding the same nervousness you felt about graduating and stepping into the world of pro heroes.

Mina shook hands with Principal Nezu, who, to be frank, looked like a knock-off, whitewashed Mickey Mouse. The sight brought a small, nervous smile to your face. Then, she turned to Mr. Aizawa, your homeroom teacher. To everyone's surprise, he looked quite presentable for once! His usual shaggy hair was tied into a neat half-up, half-down style, and he wore a sharp red and black suit. His genuine smile for Mina was a rare and touching sight, sending a wave of warmth through the audience.

Mina, grinning from ear to ear, skipped down the stage steps after receiving her diploma. As soon as she reached the bottom, she dropped her act and yelled excitedly, "I GRADUATED! I ACTUALLY GRADUATED!" Her happiness was infectious, and the crowd erupted in applause and cheers.

Your nerves momentarily eased, you couldn't help but smile wider. Watching your friends achieve this milestone was both heartening and exhilarating. Soon, your name would be called, and you would join them in this monumental step toward becoming a pro hero.

you looked up at mr aizawa, he was always an attractive man but seeing him like this. Cleaned up and neat, made you feel something for him. Was this a crush? Little did you know he’s had the same feelings for you since your 18th/19th/20th birthday despite you being his student.

Present Mic's booming voice filled the auditorium, "Name Last Name!" His quirk negated the need for a microphone, causing your breath to catch in your throat. Slowly, you rose from your seat, feeling the weight of everyone's eyes upon you. Yet, amid the sea of faces, a particular gaze from the stage seemed to linger longer than the rest.

With measured steps, you made your way toward the stage, nerves and excitement swirling within you. You approached Principal Nezu, who greeted you with a warm smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Congratulations," his soft but oddly unsettling voice praised, "I see you will be a fantastic hero. Will you come to the after party?"

"Yeah, I will," you replied with a smile, trying to shake off the unease his demeanor had stirred within you. Moving on, you approached Mr. Aizawa, towering over Principal Nezu at his impressive 6'1" height. His usually disheveled appearance was surprisingly neat today, accentuated by a red and black suit that seemed out of character but fitting for the occasion.

You extended your hand, which he clasped in a firm grip that lingered longer than with the other students. "See you later, kid," he said, his usual stoic expression softening into a genuine smile that held a hint of affection. It was a rare sight from the usually gruff teacher, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude.

"Yeah, see you," you replied, returning his smile as you stepped away from him. Walking off the stage, it finally began to sink in. You had graduated from UA High School, marking a significant milestone on your path to becoming a pro hero. The applause and cheers from the crowd washed over you, your face lit up as you stared at all the people who were once your classmates and you began

You slowly made your way back to sit next to Mina, noticing her cheeks were even pinker than usual. "Did you see the way Mr. Aizawa looked at you!? He's so into you!" she squealed excitedly.

"Eugh, he's our teacher!" you gagged playfully, though a part of you secretly liked the idea of your former teacher having a crush on you now that you were no longer his student.

"Well, former teacher, actually," Mina corrected with a mischievous grin. "We graduated, and some of us are 20 years old. It doesn't matter! He's so into you, babe," she added, nudging your shoulder playfully.

You chuckled nervously, unsure how to process Mina's teasing. Mr. Aizawa had always been a supportive mentor, but you never imagined there could be anything more between you. Still, Mina's insistence and playful encouragement sparked a flutter of excitement in your chest. As you glanced back at Mr. Aizawa across the room, you caught his eye briefly, and for a moment, you wondered if there might be some truth to Mina's teasing after all.

some time later at the after party

As the evening unfolded after the graduation ceremony, you found yourself at the after-party, surrounded by your friends and fellow graduates. The venue was lively, with upbeat music filling the air and colorful lights dancing across the walls. Mina, true to form, was the life of the party, dragging you onto the dance floor while laughing and cheering.

The atmosphere was surprisingly relaxed, with even the former teachers joining in the festivities. Mr. Aizawa, now dressed casually and looking more approachable than ever, was engaged in conversation with some other graduates near the bar. You couldn't help but smile at the sight of him letting loose, a stark contrast to his usual stoic demeanor in class.

You grabbed a drink from the bar and joined the circle of your friends, exchanging stories and jokes about your time at UA High School. Denki was showing off his dance moves, much to everyone's amusement, while Bakugo, surprisingly relaxed, recounted a particularly explosive training session.

Amid the laughter and chatter, you caught Mr. Aizawa glancing over at you from time to time, a small smile playing on his lips. It was a side of him you hadn't seen before, and it made you realize just how much he had cared about each of his students.

As you looked back at bakugo you tilted your head to the side “I’ve never seen you so relaxed, how much did you have to drink?” You giggled “I’m on my 3rd vodka!” He chuckled and leaned on kirishimas shoulder, the red head laughed and and pushed bakugo “get off me man!” He said with a raspy voice and happy tone. However you just could not get peace with the idea of aizawa, he seemed so calm for once, so happy.. maybe even attractive? You leaned over to Mina who was busy flirting with kirishima “should I go flirt with mr aizawa?” You asked the lively girl “OH MY GOD YES. GO GO GO, but after that you gotta go out with bakugo so we can go on double dates” she insisted “yeah alright, don’t go making me an aunt with kirishima Mkay?” You grinned at her while kirishima blushed and began making out with Mina.

you walked over to the bar and sat next to aizawa, looking over at him “so what are you gonna do now that we’re graduating?” You asked the 33 year old “ahh.. start over, teach first years and watch them graduate too.” He grins to you, alchohol on his breath. “Right yeah.. that makes sense” you nodded and grabbed a bottle of vodka “shit.. can’t believe i actually grad-” you were interrupted by aizawa placing his arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him “you know since your birthday I’ve been thinking about you” he cooed, getting close to your face. He’s obviously saying this because he’s drunk, but drunk words are sober thoughts right?

you gulped “you have..?” You asked him, going from between his eyes to his lips “yeah.. you look so kissable..” he chuckled, leaning to kiss the corner of your lips. You let him peck your lips and cheek, blushing deeply.. his deep voice grumbled in your ear “let’s go somewhere more private yeah pretty girl?”

And that’s how you ended up here, behind the building making out with your high school teacher. Aizawa pushed you against the wall as he held your face, kissing you deeper. Your tongue swirled with his, he pulled back with a wet noise “god your good at this..” he grumbled and grabbed a handful of fat from your thigh and smashed his lips against yours again, using his other hand to twirl with your hair. You two kept this up for a while, only parting for air when needed then going back in for a passionate make out, he leaned down to kiss at your neck and play with your hair. Leaving deep purple hickeys across his neck “god I wanna fuck you dumb…” he mumbled against the skin on your neck

“then do it”

[teliphone]

Help me, Professor

Summary: You have always heard the view of students falling in love with their professors, but what if you are the professor? You have been a teacher at this university for a while. One of their top students, Aeri Uchinaga, more known as Giselle, starts developing a deep crush on you. You try to keep things professional, but you are both adults. Feelings are hard to avoid. 

Warning(s): Smut, Oral, Fingering, Jealousy, Fem!Reader

Word count: 4k

-

“Professor, I printed all the papers you asked me,” Your female student, Giselle, chirps. She happily hands you the piles of paper. You widen your eyes in amusement. You didn’t expect her to be so fast. You touch the edge of the documents before looking up at her. She has her hands behind her back, cheeks pink, and staring brightly at you. 

“You did a good job,” You compliment. You pat her head gently with a smile. She’s the only student here that dyed their hair bright pink. It makes her stand out among the students. Her cheeks turn noticeably red, making you retract your hand. You grip the pile of paper. 

“Do you need anything else?” She asks quickly. You shake your head slowly, trying to remember if there were more tasks. 

“No, that is all I needed for today,” You thank her. She averts her eyes to the ground and pouts. Your heart squeezes a little due to how cute she is. You wish you could pinch her cheeks, but that would be inappropriate.

“I’ll see you in class tomorrow,” You turn your body to the side, ‘You should go home, it’s getting late.” Giselle stares at you as you walk away. She frowns again, wishing that she could spend more time with her favorite teacher. As you walk, you bite your bottom lip. You curse yourself for feeling things more than just a simple encounter. Giselle is a sweetheart and you’re just her favorite teacher. That’s all.

Once you make it into your classroom you place the paper pile onto your desk. You turn and lean your body against the wood. The room is quiet and filled with empty student desks. Your eyes stop at a certain desk. Giselle's desk. She loves to sit at the front, preferably near your desk. You’ve always caught her staring deeply at you. She’s never shy about it nor does she look away when you make eye contact. You’re always the first to break it, secretly clenching your fist. 

Knowing about Giselle was easy. She’s the top student. She’s in multiple clubs and always volunteers at school. Every staff member knew her and all had kind words about her. The students love her and she quickly became popular. Though it was never ever your business, you couldn’t help but notice she never had a boyfriend. You’ve seen her reject her classmates countless times. 

-

You glance at the clock and clear your throat. 

“Alright class is over. Quickly recap, we have a guest speaker next week. If you attend, you will get extra credit,” You announce scanning around the room. The students quietly nod their heads and begin packing their bags. You quickly glance at Giselle who is busy applying lip gloss to her lips. Her eyes connect with you and you immediately look away. You return to your desk and focus on your laptop. You read over some emails and reply to them. The sounds of each student leaving the class start to get quiet. You still notice a pink-haired girl in your peripheral vision. 

“Class ended Giselle,” You speak up, not looking away from your laptop. She smiles and places her chin on her hand. She tilts her head as she admires you working quickly. She doesn’t reply, which makes you look up from your screen. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. She continues to stare sweetly at you not saying a word. You feel your heart skip a beat, but your face remains emotionless. 

“Is there a problem-”

“I need help,” Giselle finally speaks up. You’re stunned for a moment. You lower your laptop screen and avert your full attention to her. 

“With?” 

“With homework,” She frowns. You let out a soft laugh of disbelief. It was hard to believe her considering she is a perfect A student. She never asked for help before. 

“I can set you up with a tutor-”

“I think being taught by you would be the best,” She bats her eyelashes. You nervously fidget with your fingers. You’re starting to understand her behavior. 

She has an interest in you. She’s always staying behind after class. She’s always helping you out, even with the smallest task she would gladly do it. She likes to drop subtle hints here and there. 

“Giselle, it’s getting late again. You should go,” You kindly urge her. She stares out the window.

“It’s raining. I don’t have an umbrella,” She pouts. You sigh and stare at the one umbrella at the door. 

“You can borrow my umbrella,” You offer. She widens her eyes, you can see the sparkle behind her dark orbs. 

“But what will you use?” She whines. 

“I’ll… figure something out,” 

“No. I refuse. I’m not going anywhere,” She grumbles. You realize how stubborn she can be. 

“We can use it together,” You suggest. You didn’t find it that inappropriate. You’re just helping a student and yourself out. Giselle seems to light up at the idea. 

So here you are, walking closely with Giselle under one umbrella. You try your best to keep a distance which makes your other shoulder wet. She notices and wraps her arm around your bicep. She tugs you closer, her breast squeezing against your arm. Your cheeks turn pink at her closeness. 

“Teacher, you’re getting wet,” She whispers. You mentally curse yourself for having a dirty mind. She hides her smile behind your arm. She knew what she was saying. 

“Where do you live?” You change the subject. 

“I live a couple blocks that way,” She points in a direction. You quietly nod your head and begin walking that way. Giselle doesn’t mind the silence. She is enjoying herself being pressed up against you. She can freely analyze you. 

She takes notes of your scent and features. If it was possible to have heart eyes, she would have one right now. You keep staring forward, refusing to look at her. She giggles and hugs you closer to her. She finds you really cute for being shy. 

You finally make it to the front steps of her place. Giselle stops right in front of you, under the umbrella. Soft sounds of raindrops hit the surface. 

“Thank you,” She smiles. 

“Of course. I like to help out my students,” You smile back. She shyly averts her attention away from you. She plays with the heel of her foot. Suddenly she leans forward and gives you a soft kiss on your cheeks. You widen your eyes in shock. She pulls away from the kiss to carefully watch your reaction. She wanted to see if you liked it or not. You stand in silence for a moment. You place a hand over your heart to feel it beating fast. Your cheeks turn red. She smiles and slowly nods her head playfully. 

“I���ll see you tomorrow, professor,” She cooes before running in. 

Ever since then, she has started to shamelessly flirt with you.  The more she does it, the more she becomes brave. 

-

She traps you against the classroom door, locking both hands beside you. Underneath her messy bangs, her dark and playful eyes analyze your face. Her scent fogs your thinking. You nervously clench the bottom of your button-up shirt. You can see a smile slowly creep on her glossy pink lips. You force your eyes shut, trying to focus on your uneasy breathing. She tilts her head in amusement. She finds you cute for being nervous, considering how you’re older than her. She places a finger in the loop of your pants and tugs you closer to her. Your lower stomach rubs against her. Heat rises in your body. You immediately put your hands on her shoulder in an attempt to stop. 

“You shouldn’t be doing this. I am your teacher,” You whisper harshly. You glance nervously to the side, staring at the empty desks. She softly chuckles as she wraps her arm around your waist, keeping you locked against her. She leans close to your face. Her lips graze gently against the shell of your ears. Your breathing hicks. 

“Teach me how to please you,” She purrs before dipping down to lick your neck. Her wet tongue brushes before she places a soft kiss over it. You grip her shoulders and lean your head back against the door. You can hear the kisses she coats your neck with. 

“Professor, tell me,” She whispers. Your eyelid feels heavy as you stare down at her. She still has that playful smile on her lips. Your brain clouds with lust as you gently brush her soft hair. Her long locks fall easily between your fingers. 

“Professor”

“Professor!”

You jerk back in surprise, nearly knocking down the pile of paper on your desk. You place a hand on your beating heart and stare at the male student. He stands in front of your desk looking at you worriedly. You fake a cough and quickly straighten your back to act calm. 

“Class ended a while ago,” You state. He smiles and plays with the heel of his foot. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you. You were in deep thought. I didn't know how to approach you,” He explains. You give him a gentle smile to assure him you’re okay. You clasp your hands together on top of your desk. Brightly peering up at him.

“What can I do to help you?” You ask. He shyly rubs the side of his head. 

“I am a little confused about today's subject. I was wondering if you could teach me,” 

“Which part of the lesson?” You worry, moving the papers on your desk to the side so he can place his journal. He smiles happily and immediately takes a seat on the extra chair. 

As you continue to help him out, you can’t help but notice how close he tends to lean over the desk. You could also feel him staring at you instead of the textbook. You decide to ignore it because it could mean nothing. You end the tutoring after fifteen minutes of knowing he could understand the subject. He beams and gathers his things. 

“Thank you so much, teacher! You’re the best!” He chirps while skipping out the door. You find your student adorable. A smile creeps onto your lips as you stare at your wooden desk. 

There are two soft knocks on the door, making you look up. Her. 

Giselle's smile radiates when you make eye contact with her. She pushes herself off the door and walks to you. Her hand clasps behind her back, and her hips sway side to side. She is extremely pretty, almost like a doll. You notice a lollipop stick sticking between her glossy lips. Instead of taking a seat on the chair, she decides to squeeze between you and sit on your desk. She crosses her legs slowly, exposing her soft thighs and the pink thong underneath her skirt. You blush before looking up at her. She twirls the lollipop stick with her fingers. You watch her lips wrap around the red candy. 

“He was a little close,’ She breaks the silence, ‘-Don't you think?” Her voice is sweet, but her tone is cold. You lean back into your seat with no expression. You let out a soft laugh of disbelief. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Is she jealous?

“He is just a student I was helping,” You explain. She leans her body weight on one arm. She shrugs, her face expressing ‘whatever.’ 

“I am a student too,” She chuckles. You quickly glance at the door in caution. 

“You’re different,” You whisper. She plops the lollipop out of her mouth, licking her bottom lip while looking deep into your eyes. She uncrosses her legs and slides one of her feet between your knees. 

“I don’t like sharing,” She warns before placing her lollipop between your lips. You open your mouth, and she examines you suck on the candy. A soft hum comes from her throat. She slides off the desk and begins making her way to the door. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” She says before walking out. Your tongue brushes against the candy, coating it with the sweet, sugary cherry flavor. You fail to notice that on the other side of the wall is the male student. He stands frozen in shock at what he just witnessed. He was heading back to grab his forgotten pen, not expecting to see you with company. He could sense that the behavior between you and the female student was abnormal. Deep in thought, he walks away from the door with his head down. He makes it outside the front doors when suddenly he stumbles backward from impact. He glares up to see Giselle standing with her arms crossed. Her lips curl into a grin. 

“Peeking tom,” She teases, pointing a finger at him. He slaps her hand away from his face in annoyance. He averts his gaze to hide his blushing cheeks. She starts circling him with her arms behind her back. She stops in front of him and leans close to his face. Her chest peeks out of the white button-up shirt. He smells a faint sweet cherry candy scent coming from her. 

“Jealous?” She whispers. He pushes her back by the shoulders. She lets out a soft grunt before chuckling. He furrows his eyebrows in concern. He thinks she’s insane. 

“I knew it,” She whispers under her breath. She knew he had an interest in her favorite teacher. She could tell by how he looked at her. She starts to pout playfully and places her arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer. 

“Poor you. I don’t think she sees you that way,” She smirks. 

‘You don't know that,” He snaps. She narrows her eyes at his confidence. She had no idea he had some type of fight in him. She suddenly finds him more interesting and fun. She turns her head and sees you walking down the hallway. Her heart races in excitement.

“We’ll see about that,” She whispers. Her lips touch the shell of his ears. He leans away in disgust but quickly stops when he sees you walking out the door. He watches how your eyes examine Giselle. For a second, he sees you furrow your eyebrows. You spare him a glance before looking back at Giselle. 

“I didn’t expect to see you two here,” You point out, smiling kindly. You stand straight with your head high to show authority as a professor. Giselle tugs him closer and smiles brightly. 

“Just hanging out with my cute friend, that's all,” She beams while pinching his cheeks. He grumbles and tries to fight against her. Your smile nearly drops at how touchy she’s being, but you quickly recover. 

“That’s sweet,” You keep it short. You can sense the conversation coming to a quick end. 

“Well, it was nice seeing you two here. I shall take my leave now,” You excuse yourself. As you take a step forward, you feel a hand wrap around your wrist. You widen your eyes at the culprit. Giselle has a pouty face again as she clenches onto you. You try tugging your arm away but it causes her to grip harder. Her chest presses against your arm. Heat rises all over, making your cheeks turn pink.  

“Giselle-” You gasp. 

“Teacher~ Please get home safe okay?” She hums cutely. You nervously gulp. All your facade seems to be sinking down the drain fast. You quickly glance at the male student who is watching closely to everything. 

“I will. Thank you,” You choke out, trying your best to end this moment. Giselle’s eye seems to sparkle. She nuzzles her face against your neck cutely, but that makes you turn red. You pull yourself away from her successfully. You nervously laugh it off. 

“I will leave now,” You command. You look at Giselle deeply as if you were warning her before leaving. They watch you closely and quietly. Once you were away from their view, Giselle started laughing softly. She wraps her arm around the male student, leaning her chin onto his shoulder. 

“See,” She grins. He doesn’t respond. He is speechless.

From then on, he was no longer a problem. 

-

Giselle closes the classroom door and turns the lock. You’re busy typing away on your laptop to notice her locking it. She slowly makes it over to your desk. The day is getting darker, but it’s not new to find Giselle staying after hours to spend time with you. 

Giselle gently pushes the laptop screen down. She takes a seat on the desk, blocking you from the laptop. You peer up at her in confusion. 

“I need help again,” She begins. 

“With today's subject? I thought I went over it slowly-“ 

“No with something else,” She cuts. You furrow your eyebrows. Before you can ask more, she reaches down to touch your hands. She brings it up to her lap and plays with your fingers. 

“I feel tense in my lower stomach,” She explains slowly. You shyly gulp, feeling your body heat up again. She lets go of your fingers and runs her finger in your hair. She pulls you closer and kisses your forehead. 

“You know you’re really cute right?” She hums. She peppers kisses all over your cheeks making you giggle. You place your hands around her waist. She bites her bottom lip and traps you around her thighs. Her pink hair falls over her shoulders and touches your arm. She uses her other hand to lift your chin. She smiles sweetly when you lock eyes with her. She kisses you softly, shutting her eyes. You kiss back with the same gentleness. She turns her head, brushing her nose against yours. She teases you by softly biting your bottom lip. She tried to deepen the kiss, but you pull away, chest moving up and down fast. 

“Wait- the door,”

“I locked it,” She shushes you by kissing you again. Her hand lowers and she starts cupping your chest. You quietly moan feeling your body heat up. 

“We shouldn’t,” You manage to say among the kisses. You get up from your seat, trapping her body between your hands. She smiles because you didn’t fight back. She knows you want to. She starts unbuttoning your shirt one by one. The cold air makes your skin prickle as she exposes your bra. She starts kissing your boobs. She enjoys feeling the plush under her lips. You grip her hair gently, keeping her between your chest.

As she continues kissing you she moves her hand down to your pants. She quickly unbuttons your pants and shoves her hand in. Her fingers find the middle of your core and rub. You moan, tilting your head back. 

“You like that?” She chuckles between your boobs. You nod your head feeling your pleasure build up. She removes her hand from your pants causing you to whine. She leans back onto the desk, spreading her legs. You see her white panties underneath her skirt. 

“I’ve been a good girl. Help me first,” She purrs. You quickly tug her panties off and shove them into your desk drawer. The white button-up on her starts to feel stuffy. She unbuttons the top few, letting her chest peek out. She watches you closely, resting on her elbow. You sit on your chair and spread her thighs apart. Her pink core makes your lower stomach feel butterflies. You lick your lips in eagerness. You spread her folds and give her a small kitten lick. You start to lick up her slit over and over. She tilts her head back in pleasure. Her core leaks out juices, coating your tongue. Your nose brushes against her clit and she jerks ups. 

You give her a couple more licks before flicking your tongue against her clit. She grips her hand onto your head and moans. You wrap your lips around the bud and begin to suck.

“You taste so good,” You purr, causing her to moan loudly. She buckles her hips up. You hold her down by the thighs. You lick harsher, becoming more pussydrunk. The sound of her wetness becomes louder each time you suck and flick your tongue. She bites back her moans. Her eyebrows furrow in pleasure as she watches you. She begins to feel her lower stomach start to tense. 

“Keep going, I’m so close!” She chokes out. She grips her boobs and opens her mouth to pant. Her pink bangs begin to stick to her forehead. You pull away from her core. A trail of her juice connects to your lips. 

“Your mouth belongs on my pussy,” She moans, forcing your mouth back onto her core. She moans and jerks her hip. You can hear her moans becoming louder and more high-pitched. 

“Fuck! Professor, I'm so close. Please please,” She whines feverishly. You give her clit a hard suck and that pushes her over the edge. She cries out and thrusts her core deeper into your mouth. Her juice runs down your chin and drips onto your lap. She cusses and pulls away. Her body jerks in pleasure. You wipe your lips with the back of your hand. 

Giselle recovers and slowly sits up from the desk. She wraps her hand behind your neck and pulls you into a kiss. She mumbles soft “thank you’s” between the kisses. She loops her fingers around your waist, signaling you to take off your pants. You quickly pull your pants off, leaving your bottom bare. You feel excitement rush throughout your body. While you were eating her out, your core was pulsing painfully. 

Giselle gets off the desk and switches position. You’re now pressed against the edge of the desk. She runs her fingers along your core, happily to find out how wet you already are. 

“Turn around for me,” She orders. You obey and turn your body to face the classroom. Suddenly you feel her press up against you. You bite your lower lip as you feel more turned on. Her skirt rubs against your ass. She leans her chin onto your shoulders and kisses your ears. 

“Spread your legs baby,” She cooes. You listen and that allows her to shove two fingers into your cunt. You moan and push your butt into her. She thrusts her fingers deep into you. Wet sounds can be heard.

“Hear that professor? You’re being fucked by your lovely student,” She whispers. You shut your eyes and moan loudly. Her pace doesn’t slow down. She wants you to come. You grip onto your desk, your legs begin to shake. She moves her other hand up to your boobs to squeeze them. She plays with your nub between two fingers. All the movement she’s doing is drawing you closer to your high. She can tell by how loud you’ve become. She starts to worry people outside could hear you, but she begins to smile. You’re so loud and needy for her. Her favorite teacher is dripping to her fingers. She quickens her pace. 

“Come for me,” She licks your ear. You come onto her hands, letting out a whine. She continues to move her fingers to let you ride out your high. You lean forward onto the desk to catch your breath. Giselle gets turned on again at the position you're doing in front of her. She grips onto the soft squish of your bottom while biting her lip. 

“I think I need more help,” She moans. She pushes her core against your butt. You feel her wrap her fingers around your waist. She wishes she had a střäp 0n right now. You let out a soft laugh and gently push her off you. She pouts in disappointment. You turn around and brush her pink hair behind her ears. You stare lovingly into her eyes. She blushes against your gaze and hides herself in your neck. You hold her and close your eyes. Enjoying the warmth of her presence. 

[dilfismz]

Hi! Can you write jealous professor dom!cho sangwoo x student sub!reader. Can you make sangwoo become real mad and some spanking too? Thank you so so much 🥹🥹

Mine

Summary: Turns out Professor Cho doesn’t like it when stupid young boys touch what’s his.

A/N: there are a few flashback scenes in order to build a backstory so don’t be confused!

Warnings: age gap, inappropriate teacher/student relationship, spanking, some degradation?, p in v, no prep (Sangwoo is desperate), dom/sub dynamics, and hair pulling.

In all honesty, you and Professor Cho had become close by complete accident. If you could even call it close…more so acquainted. You could recall every detail of your night spent together as if it had just occurred. Every single time you step foot into his lecture hall you can’t help but reminisce.

⋆ ──── ❍ Δ □ ──── ⋆

The bar was quiet that night, many students in their dorms studying for finals. Luckily for you, yours had concluded in one long, godforsaken day. It was tough but the reward was getting to celebrate the end of the semester early.

Sliding into a seat with your friend you spot him. He was seated a few spots down, leaning casually against the bar. He looked out of place in his crisp, tailored shirt and sharp jawline—older than most of the patrons and far more composed. His presence seemed to draw attention without trying, though he didn’t seem interested in anyone else around him.

You weren’t sure why you caught his eye, but you did. His gaze lingered on you for a moment before he spoke, his deep voice cutting through the noise.

“Not a regular here, are you?”

You smiled faintly, shaking your head. “Does it show?”

“Just a little,” he said, taking a sip from his glass. “You seem…young for this crowd.”

The comment made your cheeks flush slightly, but you held his gaze. “Maybe. But you don’t exactly blend in yourself.”

He chuckled, low and warm, and moved to sit closer. “Fair enough. I’m Sangwoo.”

You gave your name, and from there, the conversation flowed with surprising ease. You told him about your studies, your aspirations, and the stress that had driven you here tonight. He listened intently, asking thoughtful questions that felt more probing than casual small talk.

“I have to say,” he murmured at one point, leaning in just slightly, “I don’t usually find myself talking like this with someone… your age.”

You shrugged, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickened. “Maybe age doesn’t matter as much as you think.”

He studied you for a moment, his gaze flicking to your lips before returning to your eyes. “Maybe.”

The air between you shifted, heavy and undeniable. When he suggested leaving, you didn’t hesitate.

The night blurred into stolen kisses in the cab, whispered words, and the heat of his hands on your skin. You fell into his bed with reckless abandon, the difference in your years forgotten in the haze of passion.

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the curtains, forcing your eyes open. The unfamiliar room was quiet, save for the soft sound of breathing beside you.

You turned your head to see Sangwoo lying on his back, his arm resting over his eyes. The sharp lines of his face were softened by the light, but there was a tension in his expression that hadn’t been there the night before.

“Good morning,” you said quietly, unsure of what else to say.

He let out a soft sigh, finally lowering his arm to look at you. His eyes were darker now, clouded with something that felt like regret.

“This… probably shouldn’t have happened,” he said, his voice low.

The words stung, even though you’d expected them. “Why not?”

He sat up, running a hand through his hair. “You’re young. Too young to be tangled up with someone like me.” His tone wasn’t harsh, but there was a firmness to it that made your stomach twist.

You sat up too, pulling the sheet around you. “You didn’t seem to mind last night.”

“That was a mistake,” he said, glancing at you briefly before looking away. “I should’ve known better.”

The silence that followed was heavy, the warmth of the night before replaced with a cold, sinking feeling. You wanted to say something, to argue that you were old enough to make your own decisions, but the look on his face stopped you.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, standing and reaching for his shirt. “You’re… incredible. But this can’t happen again.”

As he moved about the room, dressing and avoiding your gaze, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d ever been more than a fleeting distraction to him.

⋆ ──── ❍ Δ □ ──── ⋆

Another thing you always thought of when you’d step into Professor Cho’s room is the moment you’d realized just how disastrous your night together actually was.

The first day of the new semester carried the usual energy—a mix of fresh starts and quiet dread. Students milled into the lecture hall, some chatting excitedly, others scrolling through their phones or sipping lukewarm coffee. You were somewhere in the middle, adjusting the strap of your bag as you stepped into the massive room.

You hadn’t given much thought to your schedule beyond the requirements you needed to fill. This class—some upper-level finance course you had reluctantly signed up for—was just another stepping stone toward your degree. You were more concerned with surviving the workload than anything else.

That was, until you looked up.

Your heart nearly stopped.

There, standing at the podium, flipping through a stack of papers with an air of quiet authority, was him.

Cho Sangwoo.

Your throat went dry.

For a second, you thought you had to be mistaken. But there was no mistaking him—not the sharp jawline, not the dark, intelligent eyes that had lingered on you once in the glow of a streetlamp, not the hands you could still feel on your skin if you let your mind wander too far.

You froze mid-step, the chatter of the other students fading into white noise. The last time you’d seen him, he had been pulling his shirt over his head in a dimly lit bedroom, his words clipped, his expression guarded.

“This can’t happen again.”

And yet, here you were.

And here he was.

As if sensing your gaze, Sangwoo glanced up from his notes.

The reaction was instant.

His confident posture faltered, his fingers tightening slightly around the edges of his papers. His brows lifted just barely before his eyes widened in unmistakable shock. You saw the exact moment recognition hit him, watched the composed, professional mask he undoubtedly wore every day crack—just for a second.

A blush rose to his face.

It was slight, barely there, but enough for you to notice. Enough for you to know that despite his careful words that morning, despite whatever lines he had drawn in his mind between you, the sight of you standing in his lecture hall had caught him completely off guard.

The confident, articulate professor—who had surely done this a thousand times, who commanded rooms full of students without hesitation—had lost his composure.

Your stomach twisted.

For a fleeting moment, it felt like you were back in that dimly lit bar, your bodies too close, your words laced with the kind of reckless flirtation that had led to this. The memory burned through you so suddenly that you were sure it showed on your face.

But then, just as quickly as the moment had come, you watched him shove it back down.

Sangwoo cleared his throat sharply, turning his attention back to his papers. The color in his face faded as he schooled his expression into something unreadable, his professional demeanor snapping back into place like a steel trap.

But you had seen it.

You had felt it.

And now, you had to sit through an entire semester pretending it had never happened.

Swallowing hard, you forced yourself to move, slipping into a seat near the middle of the lecture hall. Around you, students continued their chatter, completely unaware of the silent war raging inside your head—or his.

Sangwoo took a breath, straightened his tie, and finally spoke. His voice was steady, controlled.

“Good morning. Welcome to Financial Strategies.”

If you hadn’t seen the way his hands curled slightly against the podium, you might have believed he was completely unaffected.

But you had seen it.

And you weren’t sure either of you would be able to ignore it.

That day, after class ended you sat frozen in your seat, your fingers gripping the edge of your desk as if that could steady the storm of emotions brewing inside you.

Sangwoo hadn’t looked at you once throughout the entire lecture.

Not directly, at least.

Instead, his eyes had skimmed over you like you were just another student, his voice measured, his posture rigid. But there were moments—fleeting, barely-there moments—where his fingers tensed slightly on the podium, where his breath hitched in the smallest, most imperceptible way before he forced himself forward.

And now, as you remained seated while the rest of the students shuffled out, he still wouldn’t meet your gaze.

“Stay after,” he had said near the end of class, his voice neutral, yet somehow sharp.

You knew this conversation was coming. There was no avoiding it.

Sangwoo stood by his desk now, organizing papers that didn’t need organizing, straightening his laptop screen only to close it again. It was almost frustrating—watching him fidget with anything but you.

Finally, he exhaled through his nose, as if bracing himself.

“If you wish to remain in this class,” he started, his voice clipped, “you will forget about what happened between us.”

You swallowed, gripping your bag strap tightly, but said nothing.

He continued, his expression carefully blank, though you could see the tension in his jaw. “It was… inappropriate. A mistake.” His fingers curled around the edge of his desk, the only sign that his control wasn’t as steady as he wanted it to be. “And it cannot affect your education.”

Your throat felt tight.

He was speaking to you as though that night had been some careless accident, as though it hadn’t been charged with something real. And yet, even as he spoke, his voice was too deliberate, too forced, like he was convincing himself as much as he was convincing you.

But you didn’t miss the way his fingers twitched slightly against the desk.

Your gaze dropped to his hands—the same slender hands that had once roamed your body, tracing paths of fire along your skin.

You could still feel them if you thought about it long enough. The way they had tangled in your hair, how his fingertips had brushed over your bare waist with aching slowness, how they had tightened possessively around your wrist just before he kissed you—

“Are you listening?”

Your head snapped up.

Sangwoo was watching you now, his brow furrowed slightly, his lips pressed together in a thin line.

You nodded, trying to ignore the heat rising in your face.

He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face before crossing his arms. “Good,” he muttered. “Because I can’t have distractions in my classroom. Whatever… that was, it’s over. Understood?”

His words were cruelly impersonal, but his body language betrayed him. The stiffness of his shoulders, the way he seemed almost restless standing still, as if part of him wanted to move, to do something else.

You wondered if he was remembering it, too.

The weight of him pressing you into the mattress. The way he had looked at you, his usual self-control slipping with every kiss, every touch.

You sat up a little straighter, ignoring the pang in your chest. “Understood,” you said quietly, though the words felt like a lie.

For a moment, he didn’t move.

His fingers tapped once against the desk. Then again.

Then, as if snapping himself out of something, he turned away, collecting his things with more force than necessary. “You’re dismissed,” he said, not looking at you.

You hesitated.

But there was nothing left to say.

So you grabbed your bag and walked toward the door, feeling his eyes on your back even though he had told himself not to look.

————-

Now here you are today and you have done exactly what Sangwoo asked.

For months, you kept your distance, pretending as though nothing had ever happened between you. No lingering glances, no hesitation when he called on you in class, no trace of the night you had spent tangled in his sheets. You became cold, detached—indifferent.

And it was driving him insane.

At first, he convinced himself that this was what he wanted. That this was the right thing.

But then Jisoo happened.

A boy your age. Bright-eyed, eager, always quick with a joke that made you laugh—actually laugh. You had never laughed like that in his class before. Not when you were with him.

Sangwoo ignored it at first.

But then it happened again.

And again.

Soft whispers shared between the two of you, your heads leaning close as if nothing else in the room existed. His blood simmered every time Jisoo touched your arm, every time he caught you smiling at him—every time he saw you looking at Jisoo the way you used to look at him.

But today was the worst of it.

Today, Jisoo had whispered something in your ear, and your face had gone warm—cheeks flushed, lips parting just slightly in surprise before you giggled.

Sangwoo gripped his pen so hard it nearly snapped.

The moment class ended, his voice cut through the murmurs of students packing up their things.

“Stay after.”

Jisoo glanced at you, curious. You barely reacted, nodding as you finished gathering your notes.

The last student filtered out.

The door clicked shut.

Silence.

Sangwoo remained standing at the front of the classroom, bracing his hands against the desk, his head tilted downward. You could see the tension in him—the way his fingers curled, the way his breaths left him in slow, controlled exhales.

You knew this was coming.

You waited.

And then, finally, he spoke.

“Tell me,” his voice was low, measured. “Do you plan to seduce him the way you seduced me?”

Your heart stuttered.

The accusation hung heavy between you, thickening the air, making it harder to breathe.

“What?”

Sangwoo lifted his gaze, and for the first time in months, his carefully constructed mask had cracked.

No indifference. No feigned professionalism. Only raw frustration—barely-restrained jealousy simmering beneath the surface.

He took a step forward, slow and deliberate.

“You heard me,” he murmured, his voice dark. “Is that your plan? To make him desperate for you? To make him think, even for a second, that he can satisfy you the way I did?”

Heat pooled in your stomach, but you forced yourself to hold his gaze. “That’s not—”

He scoffed. “Not what?” Another step forward. “Not true? You don’t think I see the way he looks at you? The way you let him lean into you, whisper in your ear?”

His jaw clenched.

“Do you think he can touch you like I did?” His voice dropped lower, barely above a whisper. “Think he can even attempt to please you?”

Your breath hitched.

Your fingers curled into fists at your sides, knuckles whitening. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you forced out.

His lips quirked up—not in amusement, but something far crueler.

“Liar.”

Your stomach flipped.

You hated how easily he unraveled you.

Sangwoo exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through his hair. “I shouldn’t care,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “I told myself I wouldn’t.”

You swallowed hard.

“But then I see you with him,” he continued, his voice quieter now. “I see you laughing, smiling, and I—” He cut himself off, exhaling sharply as if disgusted by the confession sitting on his tongue.

Your pulse pounded in your ears.

“You’ve been punishing me,” he murmured. “All these months, Ive been trying to forget, trying to pretend it never happened—but it did. And here you are pulling this shit right in front of me.”

His fingers twitched.

“And it still matters to you…”, you intended to ask but it came out more like a statement.

Sangwoo inhaled sharply, and before you could react, his hand shot out—grasping your wrist.

Your breath caught.

His fingers, long and slender, wrapped around your skin. Not tight. Not pulling. Just holding.

A mistake.

A reckless, dangerous mistake.

But neither of you moved to stop it.

“You don’t get it,” he murmured, his voice lower, almost pained. “I broke the rules for you once.”

Your throat went dry.

His fingers slid down, tracing your palm before hesitantly releasing you.

Then, barely above a whisper—so quiet you almost missed it—he admitted:

“I think I’d break them again.”

Your stomach clenched.

Sangwoo exhaled slowly, looking at you as if he were already regretting saying it out loud. But it was there now. It couldn’t be unsaid.

For the first time in months, he wasn’t telling you to forget.

He wasn’t telling you to leave.

Instead, his voice was quiet. Measured. Unsteady.

“Stay, it’s your turn to be punished.”

You take a tentative step in his direction, testing the waters. Sangwoo blinks slowly, looking you up and down, “You stay there”, he commands while walking to the lecture hall door. He locks it with a flick of his wrist and returns.

He sits on his chair behind the large desk he often spends hours sitting at. He spreads his thighs, patting them expectantly.

You take this as a sign to straddle him but he immediately grunts in dissatisfaction. “No, bend over my knees, face down ass up”.

You flush at the command, all self respect fleeing your body as you comply without a second thought.

Tch tch

He clicks his tongue mockingly, all while lifting your skirt up to expose your plump ass, barely covered by a tiny thong.

“Now did you wear this for me or him”, Sangwoo asks, a scowl etched onto his features.

“You Sangwoo, always for you-”, before you could finish your sentence a loud smack echoes throughout the lecture room. Before you can even register the pain another red hot slap lands on your bottom, leaving you breathless.

“It’s sir”, he commands, a shit eating grin already overtaking his features.

“Y-yes sir”, you respond.

“Good fucking slut, finally you do something right. Maybe I should’ve done this right away, then we never would have had that silly little problem huh?”

You simply nod, his words going in one ear and out the other. Sangwoo pulls your hair harshly, forcing your head back to look at him.

“Speak when you’re spoken to”, he commands, his other hand landing another firm slap to your stinging ass.

“Yes sir-“, you moan as he kneeds the sensitive flesh, “-wish you would’ve done this sooner.”

He nods in approval, forcing you off of his legs and pushing you against his desk.

You can hear him unbuckle his belt and all but shake with anticipation. You’ve waited oh so long to feel him again.

Suddenly his swollen tip is prodding at your entrance, your thong pulled to the side. Sangwoo lets out a heavy sigh and declares, “I’ve waited way too damn long to do this again…now tell me have you been whoring around campus or is the last time your pussy got stretched with me?”

“Y-you sir, haven’t done anything since that night”, you splutter out, backing up into him, hoping he’ll just push in already.

“Good girl, that’s what I like to hear”, he says right before completely bottoming out in one harsh thrust.

Sangwoo doesn’t start out gentle, he keeps thrusting into you slowly but oh so roughly. You swear you can feel him reaching spots even he didn’t hit last time.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as his hands grip your hips with a bruising force. He scoffs at your desperate mewls, “I won’t last long sweetheart so you’re gonna take what I give you and be grateful, ya?”

“Yes sir”

Sangwoo can feel his glasses slipping down his nose as his pace quickens. The entire room is filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin and its filthy.

“Please don’t stop sir I’m close”, you beg as you feel that all too familiar feeling within you.

He doesn’t stop. His hands gripping you even tighter as he grits his teeth, cock twitching as your gummy walls suck him in.

“Fuck, it’s like this pussy was made for me, can’t believe I stayed away for so long”, he gasps out.

That’s all the praise you needed to reach your peak. Your walls spasm around Sangwoo and he continues his assault on your insides, coming to an abrupt stop as you feel his warm seed fill you up.

The both of you are a panting mess and he runs his hands through his own hair, pushing him glasses back up his nose.

When Sangwoo finally pulls out he sighs and looks at your pathetic form in front of him.

“Clean yourself up and we’ll have a serious conversation about how this arrangement is gonna work.”

[official-cvntified-gay]

MINISKIRT masterlist

pairing: professor!wanda x fem!reader

warning: ??

wc: 1.7k

note: Inspired by the cunty miniskirt of aoa, been a while since I posted so here it is.

I'm wearing a miniskirt.

But why are you the only one who doesn't notice?

You felt good. You looked good.

Your hands trailed over your curves, fingers mapping the way your clothes hugged your body just right. A smirk curled on your lips as you admired yourself in the mirror—high heels elongating your legs, the fabric of your miniskirt perfectly smooth under your freshly painted nails.

you weren’t dressing for anyone in particular. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

"Holy—"

You whipped around at the sudden voice behind you, your roommate standing in the doorway, eyes shamelessly dragging over your figure.

"Who are we trying to look good for?" she teased, biting her lip, her gaze never leaving you.

"No one," you replied quickly, though it came out a little too defensive.

She raised a brow, clearly not buying it. She stepped closer, adjusting the collar of your shirt, her nails grazing your skin deliberately, coaxing the truth out of you. "Bullshit," she said sweetly.

Rolling your eyes, you felt a familiar heat creep up your neck. "I’m not trying to impress anyone."

But she wasn’t listening. She flopped onto your bed with a smirk that made your stomach twist. "She won’t be able to take her eyes off you now."

You swallowed, pulse quickening. "Still the same?"

"Yes," you muttered, collapsing beside her with a groan. "It’s frustrating. She used to look at me like I was…" You trailed off, the words hard to say.

"Everything?" she finished for you, her voice low, as if knowing what you couldn’t bring yourself to say.

Yes.

Because she had looked at you that way.

Professor Wanda Maximoff always found your eyes during lectures, her gaze lingering longer than necessary. Her voice would drop an octave when she called your name, and her touch—always fleeting but deliberate—lingered when she handed back your papers, or when your hands brushed in the hallways.

You had been her favorite.

Everyone saw it. Everyone knew.

But recently?

It had all changed.

Her gaze turned cold. Her touches vanished. Her words became clinical, dismissive. As though you were just another student—nothing special.

You didn’t know what happened. You didn’t know what had caused her to shut you out. But one thing was certain: if she wasn’t going to look at you the way she once did, you would make her.

Class was the next morning, and you had carefully planned your outfit. You chose the clothes you were trying on last night, a tight miniskirt and a fitted blouse—one that accentuated your curves, one that would make her notice you. You didn’t care that you might seem bold or inappropriate. If Wanda wasn’t going to give you the attention you craved, you’d find a way to force it from her.

As you walked into class, you could already feel it—the tension.

You chose a seat in the front row, a place you rarely sat, and crossed your legs slowly, letting the hem of your skirt inch upward. Your fingers brushed the fabric absentmindedly, smoothing it out, almost as if you were teasing her. What you didn't caught is Wanda’s eyes flicker to you, and it unconsciously sent a thrill down your spine.

You could feel her gaze on you, heavy and assessing, but she said nothing, continuing with the lecture like everything was normal.

This wasn’t normal.

Her voice dipped lower, harsher, when she called on you. "Miss Y/L/N, since you seem so comfortable today, why don’t you answer the next question?"

You tilted your head, playing innocent, pretending you weren’t aware of what you were doing. "Which question, Professor?" you asked, your voice steady.

Wanda’s fingers tightened on the lectern, her knuckles white. You saw her jaw tense, and something flickered behind her eyes.

Thinking your planned worked. You leaned forward just slightly, the movement causing the fabric of your skirt to ride up a little more. Wanda’s gaze flickered again—this time it lingered longer, and you could see her struggling to maintain control.

Her voice trembled, betraying her resolve. "What is the defining characteristic of a..." She trailed off, as if the words were becoming harder to say, harder to focus on.

You felt it, that familiar energy pulsing between the two of you. She was fighting it. But you weren’t going to let her win.

You shifted again in your seat, slowly, letting your body draw her eyes like a magnet. You traced your fingers over the hem of your skirt, just enough for her to see, but not enough to give you away.

"Professor?" you asked, your voice low, almost teasing.

She snapped her gaze back to the board, her breathing shallow. The class seemed to stretch on forever, but in that moment, all you could hear was your own heartbeat—and Wanda’s quickened pulse beneath the surface.

When class ended, you didn’t wait. You stood immediately, gathering your things quickly, knowing she wouldn’t let you go without addressing what had happened.

You walked up to the front of the room, the slight click of your heels on the tile floor echoing through the otherwise empty lecture hall.

Wanda’s eyes followed you the whole way, and you saw the tightness in her jaw, the tension in her shoulders. She was trying so hard not to give in.

But you weren’t going to make it easy for her.

You stopped in front of her desk, standing just a little too close, waiting for her to meet your eyes.

For a moment, she didn’t say anything. Just stared at you, her breath ragged, her gaze dark.

And then, slowly, she exhaled. "Miss Y/L/N," she said, her voice dangerously low. "Do you think you’re clever?"

You leaned forward slightly, matching her tone, matching her challenge. "I think you want me," you said, each word deliberate.

Wanda didn’t move, didn’t respond immediately. But you saw the way her chest rose and fell, saw the way her fingers curled against the desk.

Her eyes never left you as she spoke again, her voice like velvet. "You’re playing a dangerous game."

You swallowed, a rush of heat flooding your body. Maybe you were.

But you knew one thing for sure—if she wasn’t going to make a move, then you would.

And this game? It was only just beginning.

You leaned in just a fraction closer, your breath mingling with hers. "Are you going to punish me, Professor?" you whispered, a teasing smile tugging at your lips.

For a split second, Wanda’s face was unreadable—her expression wavering between something dangerous and something far more personal.

"You’re asking for trouble," she said, her voice barely a whisper. She stood up, moving just a step closer, her presence almost suffocating now.

Your pulse raced as the space between you two became thinner, the tension unbearable. There was no going back now.

"You want this," you said, your voice breathless.

Wanda’s eyes darkened, her lips parting as if to say something—anything—but nothing came out. Instead, she took another step, her hand reaching up to trace the outline of your jaw.

Her touch was light, but it sent a jolt of heat straight through you. You tilted your head slightly, your lips just inches from hers.

For a moment, neither of you moved, caught in the forbidden tension that had been building for weeks.

And then, Wanda's voice, barely above a whisper, broke the silence: "Next time… don’t come so close."

You smiled, knowing full well that there would be a next time.

And next time, your miniskirt would lay in a crumpled heap on her bedroom floor.

[writerpeach]

Studious Seduction

Oh My Girl Arin x m! reader

10k words

Thanks to @i-am-lifeform24 for help with editing

Part One | Part Two

---

Read on AO3

"This seems like a bad idea, Miss Choi."

"It's a terrible idea, professor. Which is why we're doing it." 

Without a doubt, there’s very little chance that you won’t be spotted here. Heading up a stairwell that leads up to who knows where is hardly ideal, especially with the sudden rain shower that's started to pour above, foreshadowing this bad decision made in tandem. 

Yet, you’ve never been one to make the best choices. An inappropriate relationship with one of your students has to be ranked at the top of the list, wrong for a myriad of reasons—all that could get you fired. Still, it somehow continues unimpeded, knowing the risks, both of you doubling down even. 

At this point, you’re not sure if you’re a bad influence on Arin, or if she’s a bad influence on you. 

To make matters worse, today’s outfit of choice is this poor excuse for a school uniform that draws all your attention. A risky little ensemble that consists of a white shirt and black tie combo that only pretends to be proper, covering very little of her midriff, as well as this dark little pleated miniskirt so short it might as well not exist for how little of her thighs it hides. It leaves more of her creamy skin uncovered, and being her professor, you know it's not appropriate to look—yet you can’t stop yourself from doing so anyways. 

And then there’s those dark frames on her face, the cherry on top that puts this whole thing together, that takes her from an innocent, responsible student more than invested in class, to this devilish vixen who struts into your office, demanding to be ruined, never taking no for an answer. 

There’s almost no room for imagination, offering you such an obscene view when Arin heads up the stairs, purposefully walking in front of you with slow, deliberate steps. You can see the shape of her perfectly round butt cheeks exposed, her tight fitting thong doing anything but covering up delicious pale flesh. Of course, she knows exactly where your line of sight goes when you walk behind her, making an effort to shake her wide hips a little more with each step, giving you a shameless view of her tight, succulent ass.

This outfit is every dress code violation she could possibly make rolled into one. 

But who's going to admonish her? You? Who can't even think logically at the moment when all your thoughts have turned to mush? Not a chance when all you want to do is slip your hand between her thighs too delicious to resist until she makes a mess on your fingers, the floor, and anywhere else that becomes collateral damage.

Right now, you have the perfect opportunity for exactly that. You’ve lost track of how many steps you’ve walked, but eventually, the stairwell comes to an end, with a set of metal double doors that leads up to the rooftop. As good a place as any other, you think, especially when there's little reason anyone else would want to venture towards the top level during this never-ending rainstorm.

“Here?” you question, when Arin presses your back against the cold wall just underneath the final level of the stairwell. A solitary gaze into her eyes is all you get before she wraps her hands around your neck and plants a heated, sloppy kiss on your lips. She nods in affirmation, but doesn’t give you the time to catch your breath, slipping her tongue into your mouth to make an attempt to taste all of you.

“It's really open here. Pretty easy to get caught," you tell her when she moves from your lips, placing wet kisses across your jawline, moving lower down to your neck. 

"That's the point, professor." Arin places your hands firmly around her waist, leading you exactly where she wants your touch. Her legs spread a little further apart so you can push her skirt up, revealing just how tiny of a thong she's wearing. "I don't care if we get caught. Make a mess of me—" 

She sighs when your fingertips press against her clothed core, so aroused you can already feel her slick leaking through the flimsy fabric. You add more pressure in response, rewarded with Arin's soft gasps against the sensitive skin of your neck.

"We could get in a lot of trouble, Yewon," you breathe out, barely paying attention to anything beyond this. In fact, you hardly care about what could go wrong either, so consumed with lust, one singular desire that Arin shares, and your fingertips ache to slip underneath these panties and sink right in. 

"When has that ever stopped us before?" 

She has a point. 

This is risky as it gets. And that’s what makes it all more exciting. 

Without wasting any more time, you slip a finger underneath the fabric of her panties, into her ridiculously warm cunt. A second one slides in right after, and soaked as she already is, barely puts up any resistance, the entrance of her tight little hole eagerly swallowing you up.

“Professor—“

A few strokes is all you manage before Arin throws her head back in delight, rolling her hips, moaning from nothing more but your fingers slowly pumping in and out of her needy cunt. 

Arin clings to your shoulder as the tempo picks up, her other hand quickly traveling down your torso until it reaches your pants. She finds the button to your slacks right away, unzipping them to slip a hand inside your boxers. You let out a groan when she runs a gentle hand along the length of your shaft, slow and teasing—until she wraps her entire hand around it and grips you tight.

“Yewon..." A wave of pleasure rushes through your whole body. She's stroking your cock with such a perfect grip, slender fingers reaching down to fondle your balls, eager for what they’ve stored up just for her. Meanwhile, the sounds that come from her own throat as she rides your fingers become a necessary distraction, urging you to thrust into her a little faster, a little rougher— 

"How many loads are you going to give me today, professor? I hope they're all as thick as they were yesterday—"

It's rather ridiculous, the things you hear come out of Arin's mouth. The demure looking girl in the front row, raising her hand up high, blushing just at the sight of you, now says the filthiest things when she's got her mouth on your earlobe and her pussy filled with your fingers. She's every bit the opposite of an exemplary student, but you suppose that's your fault, given you're the one who's trading straight A's for the roughest, raunchiest sex that almost always ends up with you finishing inside her. 

But the way Arin sounds when she moans directly in your ear, riding your fingers so selfishly while they stay buried inside her cunt, it makes you forget all that. None of that matters. All that does is satisfying her needs and yours, and you won't stop until she's absolutely drenched your fingers, even if it ruins that pathetic pair of panties. 

"Don't stop, professor. I'm so close…"

She's lost all inhibitions in her frantic desire to keep rocking her hips hard against your fingers. You can feel the tension about to snap, her walls squeezing the life out of your slick digits—all while she tries to keep a steady rhythm in her own pumping, giving your cock a good squeeze each time your fingers plunge to the hilt.

"Professor, please, don’t stop, don’t stop—" Arin’s breathing grows unsteady, heavy, and she gasps for air between every syllable that escapes her lips. You’ll do everything to oblige her, steadily thrusting, curling your fingers to find that sweet spot that gets her to moan the loudest until she lets go of your cock, clinging her entire weight onto you.

"You're gonna make me fucking cum—"

Nothing gets said in response, obeying Arin’s pleas, an uninterrupted stream of juices beginning to coat your fingers while she lets out one continuous moan, unable to speak coherently upon climax. Biting down hard on her bottom lip, she nearly draws blood before the wetness gushes down your fingers, rendering her panties useless, completely ruined with all this sticky arousal.

Her walls flutter around you, this explosive orgasm lasting far longer than you expect—but you don’t let up, pumping away as she spills more, riding this out until it turns into a second one shortly after. And when you press your thumb firmly against her clit, right as she starts to come down from her high, the violent trembles in her body repeat, sending her over the edge a third time, forcing her body to shake against yours, another loud, shameless moan spilling out of her in overstimulation. 

It's a wonder how the rest of campus hasn’t heard the screams echoing all the way down the staircase. Were it not for the rain pouring overhead drowning out her cries of pleasure, it would be near impossible for anyone passing by to not hear a thing. So you’re blessed by the rains, both above, and between Arin’s sticky thighs. 

After it’s all said and done, she can hardly support her own weight when the sensation of your fingers inside her becomes too much for her oversensitive cunt, Arin’s sweaty frame nearly toppling over as she breathes heavily. Good thing you're right here to do what she temporarily can’t, clinging to your body, your hard cock still poking against her as you keep her upright amidst these intense aftershocks. 

"That was, fuck—you've really outdone yourself, professor. I can hardly stand."

When you pull your fingers out, you can’t hide the smirk that spreads across your face with all this slick clinging to your fingertips as she leans on your body to take a breath. The praise washes over you while Arin unexpectedly grabs your wrist, bringing your soaked fingers, all the way up to her lips to fervently suck the delicious liquid off. 

You intently watch her lick herself off you, tongue lewdly swirling around the length of each wet digit, making an effort to swallow all of her mess. Her lips glisten with spit and wetness, a ravenous look in her bespectacled eyes as she cleans whatever she can, tasting every drop of her delicious essence, staring at you seductively until nothing is left. 

"Guess I don't need these anymore," Arin says after a pause, gradually recovering as she peels her drenched thong down her legs, letting it drop to her ankles before she slips it off, stuffing it into your front pocket. A cute little smile later, and she looks more than eager for what's next, unable to tear her gaze away from how hard you’ve been left thanks to her. 

"I should finish what I started, don't you think, professor?" 

You don't even get to answer when Arin drops to her knees on the cold floor, tugging your pants and boxers further down, freeing your cock that so desperately needs it—so desperately needs her. With a cute, light giggle, she spits onto your swollen shaft, pumping the entire length with her delicate fingers, a low moan rising in your throat as she pays extra attention to the underside where she knows you're the most sensitive.

Her slender fingers work up the length of your cock, coming back down with a grip so wonderfully tight. She’s so ready, so eager to have her soft lips around it already. You can practically see her salivating when she leans in a little closer to lap her tongue around your cock in one long, lazy lick, pressing her lips into a light kiss on the tip of your shaft. 

“Yewon—“

You can’t hold in a grunt when Arin rubs your tip against her mouth, not opening up enough to take you whole yet, instead tracing her full, soft lips over your needy cockhead. 

“Don’t you worry, professor. Gonna make you feel so good. I promise.” 

The anticipation explodes all at once as she parts her lips, slipping the entire head of your cock inside. The moment her wet mouth makes contact with your shaft, you groan at the sudden warmth, a sharp contrast from her icy cold hands. She takes more of your length down, hollowing her cheeks, keeping an intense, erotic gaze while slowly bobbing her head up and down. 

"Mhmph—" Her warm breath sends shivers down your spine as her lips slip further and further down, the tip of her tongue flicking against what hasn’t disappeared into her mouth. You can’t help but let out all types of unabashed moans while she guides more of you inside, spit dripping down to your balls as she slides deeper, until nothing of you is left to swallow up, the head of your cock hitting the back of her tight throat with ease. 

"Yewon, fuck,” you say, nearly breathless, and the way Arin looks up at you with her mouth so proudly sealed around every inch—there’s nothing better. “I'll never get enough of your pretty fucking mouth.” 

Arin hums against the length of your shaft at your praise, working more of her magic on you, lips getting down so devastatingly deep against your base. She’s oh so eager, so unwaveringly committed to covering every single inch in saliva. Her hot little mouth slides down effortlessly, bobbing her head back, each stroke just a bit sloppier, a little wetter than the one before, with zero intention of giving you a chance to gather yourself.

“Nobody gives a blowjob like I do, right, professor? Nobody can make you cum as hard as I can. I love being on my knees for you so much, being a good little slut for my professor. That’s what I am, aren't I?"

Nodding your head is all you can do, breath heavy in disbelief of how good this oral assault is, the enthusiasm on display really proving how much Arin enjoys having your cock shoved down her wet, inviting throat. 

You’d sacrifice your entire livelihood for a blowjob like this. 

It’s quite simple to lose track of how many times her talented mouth takes your entire length down, so good at pleasuring you it's impossible to find words. The way her wet tongue flicks against your slit when she slides off, only to have you plunging all the way back into the heat of her throat—it's far, far too good.

"I want you to cum on my face, professor," Arin tells you, so casually as she pulls away for a brief second before going right back to licking up the length of your hard cock, spitting all the excess saliva over the rest of you. Then she’s back to placing hungry wet kisses against each inch, her tongue making a slick path before she gives the leaking slit of your cock another teasing, torturous swirl. "I want all of it."

At this rate, you think you could blow a load anywhere she wanted you to, already so close to bursting just at her tongue lavishing your cock with these feverish licks. She has this way of making you feel so special, like worshiping your cock is all that matters to her, your pleasure the most important aspect in her life. Her greedy mouth proves just that, making you groan so easily, especially when she dips down to pay attention to your balls and slurps so messily on them like she wants your load at any cost. 

A few lazy licks down your sack and you’re back down her throat—just trapped there helplessly as she holds you, her pretty mouth so goddamn overwhelming when she swallows as much of your length as she possibly can, not showing even the slightest hint of strain. Her full lips stay motionless when they slide right down to your base, gaze locked tight, making your cock throb within her tight, wet throat. 

“Stay there, Yewon, shit,” you groan, hands clutching her head against your crotch to speed up the path to climax. Each second she remains there feels like absolute heaven, fostering all this unbearable bliss, all while those doe eyes speak for her when her mouth can’t—impatiently waiting, desperately wanting to empty your balls. 

When she releases her lips from your length, there’s a sexy little gasp that comes with the messy string of saliva pulling her back down. Repeating the act, she plunges right back down, nose nestling comfortably against your abdomen, lips wrapped entirely around the base of your length. “Yewon, god, you know what’s gonna happen if you keep doing that.“ 

"Oh, you’re gonna cum? Want you to paint my pretty face. Don’t you, professor?” 

There’s no answer to offer other than what she wants, all thoughts drowned by another wet slurp when Arin once again takes every inch of you down her throat, the overwhelming warmth of her mouth suffocating your length. Then she rises, exposing your shaft to the cool air for only a moment until her throat tightens when you’re back down, fully sheathed. 

Arin’s so dedicated to hearing you moan that these steadfast strokes show no relent, slurping from base to tip, hair all a mess as she bobs faster and faster, maintaining never-ending eye contact that’ll be the death of you.

“Need it. Need it so bad, your hot cum dripping down my face when I walk back down these stairs. Can’t wait to feel how thick and heavy a load you’ll give me.” 

Her pace only begins to go into overdrive, picking up rampantly when Arin places her hands on your thighs for better stability, the hot slickness of her mouth far too much to handle. She takes every inch, all of you disappearing down, without needing to stop to take a breath, like she’s proving a point at how good she can get you off. There's no restraint as she bobs her head without inhibitions, sloppily, noisily, not even gagging when her throat delivers an unimaginable level of pleasure. 

"Oh my god, Yewon, fuck—"

With each desperate stroke, you're so close to that edge, quickly approaching the inevitable. The tightness in your balls grows beyond your control, and there’s no time to think straight when her mouth feels this fucking good, almost there, absolutely about to—

"I'm gonna fucking cum, Yewon," you groan out just in time, with no qualms about how needy you sound. One last slow descent down to your base, then Arin pops your needy shaft from her mouth right when it seems you’re about to burst any second. 

And looking as salacious as possible, she simply tilts her head slightly backwards, jerking you off while directing the tip of your cock straight at her face, eagerly anticipating the release that's about to cover her.

“Cum all over me, professor.” 

You let out a strained, guttural moan the moment your first pearlescent stream shoots out, streaking across the bridge of her nose. These frantic strokes don’t let up, guiding your milky seed that unloads onto the perfect target—her glasses, coating the lenses in white and getting it all over her rosy cheeks. Another strand fires off as she shifts your cock downwards, a thick stream blasting across her parted lips that deserve so much of this load for helping you reach an explosive release. 

She pumps, and pumps, until there’s nothing left, and by the time your orgasm winds down, Arin is a total mess, one you’ll never get tired of seeing your load plastered all over her. Her stunning features wear you like a proud smile, drenched in her handiwork, thick streaks that cling to her cheeks, those soft lips, and anywhere else it happens to land as she strokes your length to ensure not a drop goes to waste. 

That look is all too familiar when the weight of your load starts to drip down, an orgasmic feeling that brings a grin onto her cum-stained face.

“That’s a big load, professor. Just what I wanted," she says as she removes her stained glasses, taking a nice, long lick right over the lens and making a show of the entire thing. "I think I'm obsessed. With your cum. It tastes so good, but looks better on my face."

"Yewon—you're ridiculous, you know that?" you tell her as she carefully slips the glasses back on, and wipes up whatever has run off to the corners of her lips, bringing her sticky fingers into her own mouth to slurp them clean.

"It's not my fault my professor's cum tastes so good."

But before she can even begin to clean off your cock, or savor what an absolute mess she’s covered in, the sound of footsteps nearby force her to stop mid-stroke, causing both your heads to turn with a shared look of panic. There's only enough time to tuck yourself back into your pants, but there's nothing to do at all about this massive load that's dripping all over Arin, nor what’s done a number on the stairwell. 

"Get behind me, Yewon. Quick."

Arin nods and does as you say, scrambling to her feet, also making sure her thong is still tucked away into your pocket as you zip your pants up. The sounds of footsteps echo louder, yet there's only one real way to escape this stairwell, because you're not going out that door when the rain hasn't let up one bit. 

When the moment those footsteps approach the stairwell entrance, they slow to a halt, making your heart beat faster. Arin moves fast enough to get behind you just in time, out of sight and behind your broad frame. And the two of you wait there, her body pressed against yours, trying to hold her breath, dreading to explain yourself to whoever just made this abrupt end to your fun. 

"Professor? Is that you?" The voice sounds so familiar, but you can't quite pick it out, too muffled by the rain. But there's no doubt you've heard this voice before. It's certainly one of your students, so at least you won’t have to explain this to a faculty member. "What a surprise, seeing you here!"

Normally, you'd have all the time in the world for pleasantries and small talk, but this is the last place where you can do anything of the sort as you try to shield Arin. From who exactly, you have no idea as they walk into frame. Their name escapes you, not that you really care when all you want is to get out of this situation. 

"Is something the matter, professor? Why are you standing there?"

"Oh, uh, nothing. I had some time between classes and came up here to check out the rain. It's not letting up is it?" You put on the best smile possible, knowing Arin can't be spotted right behind you. Luckily, your taller frame can block her body completely, and given how the area is poorly lit, there isn't much worry about the mess that's on her face at the very least.

"No, it isn't. We don't usually get so much rain this time of year, huh?" The unnamed student asks as she glances out the window, and for a brief second you fear the worst—but she doesn't seem to notice anything at all that shouldn't be there. "I didn't even bring an umbrella today either..."

"You might check the library, they'll have them."

"The library?"

"They used to offer some a few months back, but I guess everyone forgot. I'm sure they still have a few left."

"I might give that a try then, thanks. It's good to see you, professor." 

When your student smiles and waves goodbye, heading back the stairs without another word, you're able to finally breathe a huge sigh of relief, knowing the ordeal is finally over, despite taking years off your life. "Jesus, Yewon."

"That was close.” Her own breath stays ragged and heavy, almost completely forgetful to the mess you've left on her face that still glistens. "Good save. Really pulled that umbrella story out of thin air, didn’t you?” 

“Whatever it takes. Hey, they might have umbrellas. I’ve never gone there except to rail you.” 

Arin laughs, then suddenly remembers she still has your filth all over her. “Better go clean up I guess..."

"This was a really terrible idea."

"Hey, this was my terrible idea," Arin corrects with a grin that manages to shine through all the mess. "And I don’t hear you complaining about me giving you a nice, sloppy blowjob, professor.” 

“I could never complain about seeing my favorite student on her knees.” 

“I'll go on ahead. Maybe I'll see you later? For office hours?"

You say nothing more as you let her pass you to head down the stairs first, standing here a bit longer for your heart rate to calm before you too make your exit. You've got a class in under an hour that you haven't prepared for, and now how could you, coming so close from potentially losing your job. But yet, somehow, through all that, Arin was right—the rush of getting caught is exhilarating, but that was far too close for comfort. 

✦ ✦

So after all that, logic would dictate that you should be a little more careful, that maybe you should stop having sex with your student in places you're bound to get caught—but logic went out the window the moment you bent Arin over your desk for the very first time. What else are you going to do though, take her home to your apartment where there's actual privacy, where you don't have to keep quiet?

That sounds so very drab and mundane, and you'd rather spend another ten hours grading papers than go the proper route. You don't even know what you would do if you wound up in Arin's bedsheets, having all the freedom to rail her for hours instead of the thrill of being in public where you have to be quick and quiet.

There's nothing wrong or unhealthy with this relationship. Not one bit. 

You've told yourself on multiple occasions that you should dial it down a notch, not meet quite so often, or at least not in places that will put your career at risk. After all, your luck is going to run out one of these days, and the day could very well come when more than just a student catches the two of you, maybe one of the other professors, or god forbid the university staff. 

And then it's all over for both of you. 

Yet, there isn't a day when you don't seek each other out, find some empty closet, a vacant faculty office, or that spot near the back of the library that's so dusty that no one frequents. 

The risk is almost as good as being balls deep inside Arin itself. 

You can't exactly help yourself when she wears these slutty little outfits that practically beg you to rip them off her, nothing but the shortest skirts imaginable to class, where you have to stop your eyes from wandering throughout the entirety of the lecture. 

Arin sits in the front row for a reason, and that's not to get a better view of the whiteboard. No, it's so she can spread her legs open when no one's paying attention, flash whatever sexy pair of panties she has underneath (or the lack thereof on occasion), and sometimes even play with herself so she can show off how wet she is. 

Somehow, no one's really noticed how often you have her in your office, where there's less talk about class going on, and more your head buried between her thighs, or having her bent over your desk in some obscene position with her mouth stuffed by her ruined underwear and screaming through it.

With everything that’s transpired today, one would think you’d call it early and pack up. Not you though. Not even an hour has gone by since your close call, and Arin is in your office again, sucking you off underneath your desk while you work on grading papers—at least you should be, if only you could focus for more than a few seconds without this warm mouth slobbering on your cock. 

"I bet none of your other students can deepthroat you as good as I can."

"You said you were going to be quiet."

"And you said you were going to fuck me, professor."

You haven't exactly broken that promise, it's more like Arin decided she wasn't going to wait until you finished, always finding an excuse to get in her favorite position whenever she wants to suck you off. 

Luckily, for your students, you're going to be in such a tremendous mood after finishing in this girl's hungry mouth. These papers are downright horrendous—so fucking awful and unreadable it makes you wonder if you should intentionally pound Arin in your office with the door wide open, just so you’ll get caught, lose your job, and never have to deal with some of these students ever again.

Not even a few papers in and you’ve lost every ounce of focus, groaning while Arin empties your balls, her mouth right at your base when your spills right down her throat. With your fingers gripping the back of her head, it's impossible to not avoid bucking your hips into her pretty, sloppy mouth as she drains each thick shot from your pulsing cock, swallowing it all with pride to make sure there's not a single trace of your creamy release that hasn't gone directly into her stomach. 

"All those students probably failed anyways," she tells you, letting the saliva fall from her lips as she shows off her empty mouth with a pleased smile, planting a nice, loud wet kiss on your tip before getting back up to her feet.

"Yeah? Including you?"

"Of course not, professor. We both know before you even look at my paper that I've got a perfect grade." 

"Is that so? And what have you done to deserve that, Yewon?" 

Before you've even gotten your pants back on properly, Arin is already claiming a spot on the edge of your desk, undoing her tie so that it hangs loosely around her neck, and then spreads those luscious thighs as wide apart as they can go, her gorgeous, dripping pussy on display without any underwear in the way. "I can think of a few things. Doesn't emptying you down my throat count for something?"

"Hm, I dunno,” you ponder, shamelessly staring between those delectable thighs at what’s all yours. “Maybe a few points. That'll get you a passing grade at best."

"Just a few? What about all the times I've ridden your cock this week alone, professor? And how many times did you cum inside me?"

"I've completely lost track, Yewon. I guess that'll get you at least ten percent higher."

"How generous of you," she retorts, tone all full with playful sarcasm, unbuttoning her white shirt enough so you can see the color of her bra. It's purple, just like the thong in your pocket that serves as a nice trophy. "Are you forgetting how many times I took your thick cock in my ass until you blew your load inside?"

"Does that really count if you beg me to do so every time you step in my office?"

"Oh no, you can't blame me for how much you love my ass, professor. That's at least twenty points."

"That's a little greedy, don't you think?"

"Absolutely not. If anything, I deserve extra for all those times I let you fuck my face," Arin suggests, spreading her legs further apart to give a clearer view of her bare cunt that’s glistening so beautifully, accompanied with a set of fingers teasing herself for your benefit. 

"Again, you're forgetting the part where you keep dropping down to your knees and begging for it."

Arin can't help but smile, both at knowing you're right—and also how you can't take your eyes off the show her fingers put on when she rubs at her clit, getting wet so easily from playing with herself while staring into your eyes. It's the look on your face that drives her crazy and gives her the urge to show off even more, sliding two digits past her swollen lips into her tight hole, so eager to get herself off in front of you. 

"What about now, profess—" she asks before a moan interrupts her words, leaning backwards to prop herself up so you can watch every bit as she fingers herself. "Does this count for anything?"

"It depends. If you can make yourself cum without my help, then maybe, that'll bump up your grade, Yewon."

"Twenty-five. For making myself cum right in your office," she manages between hitched breaths, pumping her fingers deep in and out, almost bucking her hips off the table at her own touch.

"Twenty. You're not there yet, Yewon," you correct, watching Arin roll her head back with her eyes shut, so beautiful when she's in bliss, achingly sexy how her slender fingers disappear knuckle deep into her own cunt. You've barely had any time to recover since emptying your load down her throat just a minute ago, but the mere sight is more than enough to have you as hard as the wooden desk she’s writhing on. 

Arin reaches down to further unbutton her shirt, giving the full glimpse of her breasts covered up in that pretty lace as her tight frame falls back against the cold surface all splayed out. While this shameless girl continues fingering her pussy, you simply enjoy the view, stroking your cock every few seconds to spur her on. Every desperate moan and gasp from her lips gets louder, all that nectar trickling down between her spread thighs you’re dying to lick clean—but you won’t, because she has to do this on her own. 

You let the lack of words exchanged linger in the air while Arin fingers herself a bit rougher, moving a bit more frantic, knowing all the signs from experience that she isn't too far from that much craved release. 

“Professor," Arin breathes out, the quiver in her voice an obvious indication. Her fingers get so drenched, pulling them out from her heat for a moment to reveal how sticky wet they are as she groans, not bothering to hide how she slides them back in to curl right into herself. "Oh god, professor—“ 

When the pleasure becomes too much, when her back arches off the desk with breathless cries, there's no missing the split second Arin's entire body tenses up—thighs quivering, fingers buried so deep you can hear the wetness while she shakes on the desk from the intensity of her orgasm. It's a moment of euphoria that's only reached because you're watching so attentively, eyes glued the entire time as she rides her fingers long past completion, toes curling, moans echoing through your small office.

Even when Arin is finished, she's unable to regain her composure for more than a few ragged breaths, eyes still closed while the bliss hits hard, long after her high. And you savor every second of her looking so beautiful in this post-climax haze, an absolute mess on your desk that you’re thankful hasn't soaked into your papers.

"Fuck, that was too good, professor," Arin murmurs, slowly pulling her fingers out from herself, just to rub her oversensitive clit, borderline crying from the overstimulation. “It’s too bad it wasn’t your cock I came on.” 

"Then maybe I should deduct points for that?"

"Hey, that's not fair… you just told me—I’d get points for making myself cum."

"I did, but—you would have earned extra for waiting for me to do it. Guess you'll just have to earn back those points another way."

"How exactly should I do that, professor?" Arin asks with the best faux ignorance possible, sitting herself up to scoot off the desk, then leaning down to wrap her slick fingers around your shaft. "If you bend me over and pound me with this cock until your cum is leaking inside me, would that be enough?"

"Perhaps. That would certainly help raise your grade some points.” 

"Give it all to me then," she pleads, giving your cock a handful of languid strokes, just enough to leave a nice trail of her slick along the entire length. "Fuck a load into me, professor. Fuck your top student all over this office."

"Top student? Really?" You can't help but laugh at that, knowing full well Arin is certainly anything but. Far from it actually, not even top ten. "Then I better go find her then."

"Hey! Just shut up and give it to me already," Arin says with that pout still intact, keeping these strokes going on your cock that make you throb so easily, and you’re not sure who needs it more at this point. 

"Fine, but not here. I'm tired of this place. Let's go somewhere else."

It's rather late into the afternoon, with the majority of classes for the day having ended already. That leaves enough of the campus vacant, lowering the risk of getting caught wherever you decide to take Arin—but the risk still isn't zero. Wandering around the university after hours isn't the best idea, especially when there are plenty of places for students to hang out, and worse, faculty offices open late.

So you keep it simple. 

You keep several feet ahead of each other, heading up a couple floors to that really small bathroom by the science department that no one ever uses because it doesn't lock properly. There are much bigger and better bathrooms scattered about, so everyone usually forgets this tiny, shabby thing exists, especially late into the day. Not the most romantic spot, but it’s suitable, and keeps you from scouring the halls without having to dodge other faculty and students. 

You enter first, flicking on the light, and do a quick scan around the room while Arin slips in, pulling the door shut as quickly as possible. There's nothing but a toilet, a sink, and a mirror, but most importantly it looks clean, which is the most important thing. It's not that surprising given that nobody really uses it to begin with.

It’s as perfect a place as ever. 

Double checking the lock still doesn't work, nothing has changed on that front. Arin quickly moves to lean against the wall, and she’s already unbuttoning her shirt, all the way this time, to give the full view of those perky breasts without any bra to ruin the view. You're on her in a flash, claiming those lips with a kiss full of nothing but aggression to match just how badly you want to ruin this girl right now.

"Fuck me," Arin urges as she palms your bulge through your pants, impatient to get your cock inside of her. Her fingers fumble with the button to your pants, thoughts clouded with desire, and she’s so eager to release your aching shaft, to give it all the attention it so desperately craves.

You’ve got just a modicum of patience left to not let that happen quite yet.

Instead, with your lips still attached, you pick Arin’s slender frame off the ground, and guide her over to the sink, placing her there as gently as you can. When she settles down on the edge of the counter, there's no hesitation to shove that tiny skirt up past her waist, revealing her absolutely beautiful cunt still left glistening in the aftermath of her orgasm from a moment earlier, and you're just dying to fill her all up. 

Still, somehow you hold back for a moment, to let it all sink in. The sight is divine enough, this privileged student of yours in this rather pathetic excuse for a school uniform, half naked, shirt wide open with her tits fully out, that barely-there skirt, and those sexy thigh highs that bring all the attention to her immaculate thighs that make you want to ruin her even faster. She knows that’s your biggest weakness, knows how weak in the knees they leave you whenever you get to slide them off with your teeth—but now they make her look like pure sin. 

"I know you wanna get that dick in me," she says, voice so sultry, and her thighs spread obscenely wide apart, so that every inch of her mouthwatering cunt is put on display with not a drop of modesty—not like Arin even knows what that word is. 

"Not yet. Haven't gotten to taste you today." As per usual, Arin’s been more than a little greedy, and it feels like she’s had her lips on your cock all day and this is the first opportunity to return the favor. 

Any protest in those pretty eyes doesn't last when her hands wrap around your skull, drawing your face straight between her thighs that you have no trouble diving into. With your lips feasting on her cunt right off the bat, you give Arin all the attention she craves so badly, licking along the length of her slit, all the way up until your tongue starts flicking at her engorged clit. 

"God, so fucking good," Arin breathes out, the silence in the empty bathroom getting cut with all her beautiful moans that ring out. For your efforts, you’re rewarded by her thighs locking around your head, as your lips get a tight seal around her swollen clit that has her grinding that delicious cunt all over your mouth. 

"Professor!" she chokes out, while continuing this harsh grip on the back of your head while you slurp on her clit so mercilessly, every bit hungry to taste all those delicious juices that spill out. "Oh my god, professor, oh fuck!"

Your mouth doesn't quit, because nobody tastes better than Arin. You're an addict, every bit obsessed with this girl's cunt since the first time that you slid between these thighs. There's nothing you love more than this, her taste lingering on your tongue, all while these delicious thighs squeeze around your head, suffocating you perfectly as you eat her out with so much fervor she almost can't handle how good you make her feel.

"My god, Yewon—you taste so fucking delicious," you tell her between long licks, slurping on her clit without restraint to savor every last bit of her soaking cunt. "I can eat your pretty pussy all day. For hours and hours."

"I won't say no to that, professor.” Her desperate hands dig into your scalp to hold your face right there, exactly where she wants, where she needs, gasping when her hips grind down against you. "Fuck, your tongue is so, so good."

This is your favorite part about going down on her, being trapped between those perfect thighs that squeeze and tremble while you sloppily eat her out, drowning in her heavenly aroma and all this nectar, her delicious pussy that tastes even better the longer you indulge. 

It's never enough though, no matter how much time you get to spend with your tongue buried inside her cunt, or how many times she cums all over your face—the taste of her is heaven, and you love turning this girl into nothing more than a whimpering, quivering mess who can’t even think straight. 

"Just like that, professor, fuck, don't stop, oh my god, don't fucking stop, please—“

She whines so freely while grinding down hard against your hungry lips you can hardly breathe. Not that you have any problem about that, because you know exactly where Arin is, can feel those thighs vibrate all around you to know those limits are about to be surpassed, and you don't plan to let up for even a moment.

You ramp up your efforts in devouring her cunt without a moment to rest, your tongue all over her clit, sucking so harshly, so relentlessly, drowning in these delicious juices. It’s obvious how Arin's hips can't stay steady for a second longer, seconds from losing herself entirely. "Professor! Fuck, I'm so fucking close. Keep going, keep—oh fuck, right there, I'm gonna cum so fucking hard, fuck—"

Arin bucks her hips into your face with wild abandon, her juices smearing across your lips when you bring her to the verge of release, until she finally topples over completely. 

Everything goes muffled while she keeps her thighs squeezed tightly around your head, violently trembling throughout her orgasm as you lick her through the entire thing. Like every other time you've brought her over that blissful edge, it's beautiful, turning your face into a mess, and you greedily lap up everything that freely spills into your mouth from her overflowing cunt. 

When those thighs let off and relax, you look up at Arin's blissed out visage, completely enamored in the pleasure, shivering and trembling with a high-pitched squeal as you give her clit one more loud slurp for good measure. Your focus then shifts back to her messy folds, delving deep into them to clean up those juices she's gushing so profusely, a never ending stream of wet, sticky deliciousness. 

"Fuck, your cunt always tastes so amazing," you mutter, lapping at the girl's slick covered thighs, getting out every drop that leaks out with a few soft licks. Arin stays motionless on the counter, looking straight up to the ceiling while her chest heaves, still seeing stars.

After indulging a little while longer, and spending all the time necessary getting those warm thighs mostly clean, there's only one thing left to do. Your mouth pulls away, but only so you can yank your pants down to your ankles, your stiff cock aching to get inside of her. 

"Gonna fucking ruin you, Yewon. Hope you’re ready for me to wreck that tight little cunt."

"When am I not? Please, give it to me already," Arin desperately pleads, pulling herself from her haze to look at the throbbing length you're stroking as her eyes beg you to sink in and fill her up. 

Sitting herself up on the sink, she keeps herself propped up with her hands planted behind her body, spreading her thighs apart as far as possible, with her wet cunt presented so lewdly and invitingly. "Shove that dick right in me, professor. Give it to me as hard as you can."

Without another thought wasted, you slowly guide the swollen tip of your cock past those drenched lower lips, groaning unabashedly when all this slippery warmth welcomes you deep inside. It's far too easy, how you slide into her, walls so dripping with arousal that allow this ache to dissipate when you effortlessly impale Arin all the way, right to the hilt.

"My god, Yewon, fucking love this tight pussy," you groan as her walls clamp down, holding you right inside that delicious grip with no plans to release you. 

She's so soaking wet when you start pounding away inside, each thrust coated in all those messy juices as your cock bottoms out every time. Your deep strokes make full use of her open shirt, causing her modest breasts to bounce as her back hits the mirror with each hard slam. Arin clenches around you with such an unyielding grip as you pump in and out, loving how rough you are, how forceful your hips are, moaning louder and louder, still sensitive from the previous release. 

“And I love being stretched on your huge fucking cock.”

There's not an ounce of mercy in your thrusts, just pure carnal lust taking hold. Her wet folds remain parted, taking the full length of your pounding shaft, every last inch driving into that slick little cunt without restraint. You take advantage of how her legs drape over the sink, grabbing her thighs, spreading them to give you more leverage to angle your thrusts deeper, and she kicks her heels off to give you even more control, allowing you to use her body however you please.

"It feels so good, professor," she says, while each thrust stays rough and deliberate, buried to the hilt in her wetness. "This cock of yours—is so perfect."

"That's because your cunt is made for it," you groan, sweat forming on her skin under your grip as your hips slam against her. It's absolute bliss, watching the way her entire body responds each time you sink in, hearing her soft whines that she’s unable to hold any back while getting fucked so mercilessly over this counter top. "You take my cock so well."

"Of course I do," she insists, the biggest grin on her face that gets interrupted with more moans. "I'm the professor's favorite student, after all."

"But definitely the worst one," you fire back, fingertips digging hard into her bare thighs all wrapped up in these sexy thigh high stockings as they jiggle with every relentless thrust.

"So—how many points is this?" Arin asks, bracing herself against the mirror when you pound into her even harder, every inch of your cock covered in her sweet essence.

"As many as you fucking want, Yewon."

"Then make it a thousand. I can use them on the next assignment, right?"

"Use them on whatever you want, the final exam even. So long as I get to cum inside you."

"Of course, professor. Fill me all the way up. Cum inside me as much as you fucking want," she says, and those tits bounce more hypnotically every time you pick up the pace, slamming deeper with more force each time. After every plunge balls deep, that tightness becomes more overwhelming, urging you to give your all, as if the sight of her all sprawled out and creaming on your cock isn't enough already. 

It's merciless. And your hips start to reach their limit, but Arin's desperate cries of pleasure become so loud, that she has no choice but to muffle herself with her hand, almost forgetting that this seldom used bathroom is still right by the science lab—and anyone could be lingering around. 

"Fucking fill me, professor. Empty your balls. Just keep—oh god, fuck, fuck," Arin whimpers, the limits of her body creeping up fast as your cock pistons so harshly in and out of her hot cunt. "Wanna milk every last drop right out of you, make you cum so fucking hard."

"Only if you’re good and cum on this cock, Yewon. Cum all over me, and I'll fucking fill this cunt up."

"Yes, god, yes," she says, practically falling back against the mirror while you brutally hammer into her at full force. She barely keeps the coherence when it all peaks, when you feel those impossibly tight walls clenching around your cock, borderline painful, forcing you to use every ounce of strength to not burst inside her just yet. 

"Fuck, professor, this dick is so amazing—I'm gonna cum all over it, all over your fucking huge cock," Arin says as her pussy squeezes the life out of your cock with every impale in that wet, intoxicating heat. A flood of her fluids almost forces you out, an absolute mess that drowns your shaft in slick rips through her body without any care, and all you can do is fuck her through it. 

Even when her orgasm subsides, and she somehow becomes tighter, wetter, easier to sink into, you don't show any remorse while fucking her tight pussy until you can't possibly hold on any further. 

"You're close, aren't you, professor?" Arin gasps between collecting her breath as the pleasure begins to fade, watching the struggle you're going through to hold it back. "I know you are. Please, let me have all that cum. Blow your fucking load in me, let it all out." 

That's all you need to be shoved straight over the edge, taking a few final strokes before that pressure builds up to a boiling point, and nothing’s going to stop you when you’re about to burst. “Yewon—“ 

Her name barely escapes before you’re throbbing, letting out all types of lustful grunts while her pussy smothers you in  warmth, offering the best place for such a messy release of seed that shoots out, coating her insides the way she begs for. 

Your cock violently pulsates until you’re left with nothing but orgasmic relief, unloading shot after shot deep inside Arin with the thickest spurts imaginable that empty into her warm little pussy. These tight, tight walls take every drop, welcoming such a huge load that’s even somehow stronger than what her mouth did to you earlier.  

There’s no way you could do anything else with how delicious she looks on this bathroom counter. With whatever remnants of energy are left, you use all the power in your hips until they lose steam, remaining inside her euphoric cunt that refuses to relinquish you. You ride out wave after wave, each spasm pumping more cum into her, all this intoxicating bliss that feels like it’ll never end. 

And truly, both of you wish it never would. 

“Professor…” Arin can barely speak between breaths, riding this collective high that fills the room with heavy panting, and sweat glistens on whatever bare skin her revealing outfit offers. You’re right there with her, caressing her thighs, her messy cunt wringing out as much out of you as possible, like it doesn’t want your cock to escape, even after your entire load is buried inside that delicious warmth. 

“Came so hard on you, professor, fuck... I love the way your cum feels when you push it deeper, all the way into my womb. Wanna keep it all here until you’re ready for round two.” 

"You're fucking insatiable, Yewon," you sigh, dropping Arin's legs back onto the counter, which relinquishes the intense grip you’ve held, allowing her body a chance to relax. When your breathing returns to something somewhat stable, you lean over to give her a tired kiss, one that’s easily returned with whatever remaining energy she has. 

“Can you blame me when your dick is this good? It’s only your fault I turned into such a greedy little cumslut.” 

“Or maybe you were already like that before I even met you…"

"Yeah. Maybe."

Arin looks away as she starts to giggle, giving you a perfect chance to kiss that exposed cheek. When she glances back, you share an impossibly long stare, one that goes on far too long without words until you lean in for another kiss—

One that gets interrupted by a knock at the door. 

"Hello? Is anyone there? Custodial services, I'm here to clean up." 

You must have angered some kind of god for this to happen two times in one day. Even worse, there’s no easy way out of this while you're still buried inside Arin, the least of your concerns as this creamy mess threatens to spill out. 

"I, uh—need a moment. Spilled something on my shirt that won't come out. Be out in a bit," you blurt out, barely thinking while you look around at the poor bathroom that's been defiled. Arin can't help herself, covering her mouth to help from not immediately bursting into laughter as she fumbles to button back up her shirt. 

“You’re such a bad liar,” Arin whispers, but you just roll your eyes at her, glancing over the sweat on her body that you’d no doubt be licking clean were the two of you not nervously waiting to see if this unfamiliar man outside will buy your story.

"No problem, sir. Take your time, I'll be back after.” The janitor shuffles his feet, and you listen carefully, wondering just how obvious the two of you were being. When you can no longer hear footsteps, you release the longest sigh, and slowly pull out of Arin, along with an utterly unreal amount of hot semen that spills out. 

"Can't believe he bought that," Arin sighs while hopping off the counter, where more of your cum gushes out as soon as she stands up. "Can't believe you came so much inside me, either."

"If I recall, you were quite literally begging me not to stop."

"No need to be smug about it, professor."

Arin does her best to look presentable in the mirror and fix her disheveled hair, shirt only half buttoned, and skirt a complete mess, but it all seems so futile. There's no real way to hide how she looks after getting railed over the sink relentlessly, or the cum still dripping all over her thighs that she doesn't even bother to clean up. 

"We should get out of here before he comes back," Arin says after giving her appearance a once-over, making any minor adjustment to try and fix how ruined she looks. "Shall I leave first, professor?"

The question has only one obvious answer, but you still can't form your lips properly to speak it. "Not so fast, Miss Choi."

"Oh? Am I forgetting something?" Arin asks while running fingers through her hair again. You step towards her, pressing into her back to wrap your arms around her tiny frame before planting a kiss on the side of her neck.

"Yeah—me. You're not leaving this room without me."

You notice her grin in the mirror as your lips graze her skin again, nipping right on that sensitive spot that makes her gasp. 

"Don't tell me you're wanting to go again. After we almost got caught. Again—"

"No, not yet," you say between kisses, drawing closer and closer up her neck. "Need a little bit more rest for that."

"You poor thing. Did my pussy wear you out that much, professor?"

"You can barely stand upright as it is," you retort, taking your mouth away from her neck for a moment. Arin stifles a laugh that turns into a moan when your hand creeps up her skirt to touch her dripping folds still leaking your cum. "You need this a lot more than I do."

"Is that so? Well—fuck," Arin moans, unable to hide her body betraying her words as she grips the edge of the counter when two of your fingers slide into her without warning, pushing a mixture of her nectar and the load you pumped inside deep into her messy cunt. 

"It's too bad I can't continue this," you say, and withdraw those fingers from Arin's clenching pussy that so desperately tries to keep them in to no avail. "Let's get out of here. But you're not leaving my side."

"If you insist, professor." Arin has no further words, fixing up her skirt while so much thick seed oozes beneath. "But isn't it a little risky to leave together?"

"Probably. But besides, even if somebody does see us, so what? There's not much they can do about it even if they can already tell what just happened. And what are you always saying—how much you love the risk?"

"Guess I'm rubbing off on you, hmm?"

"Not a chance, Miss Choi," you correct, causing that grin across her face to grow wider. "I'm just tired of sneaking around so much."

"Me too, professor." 

You turn to leave, opening the bathroom door to poke your head around the corner. Luckily, there doesn't seem to be anyone around, only a couple of students you don't recognize standing nearby chatting, paying no mind as you and Arin sneak out successfully together.

“Where are we headed?” asks Arin as she settles in right next to you, something that's going to take getting used to. 

"Dunno. Cafeteria is still open. Guess we can head there first."

"Not if it's still raining. It's a bit of a trek, isn't it?" 

"My car's right out front. And if we so happen to take a little detour..." 

"Now who's being insatiable, professor?" she asks, with this little teasing giggle in her voice. 

“What? Who said I planned on doing anything with you other than grabbing some dinner? You know, I don't think you've had anything in your mouth today but my—"

"Professor!" Arin's not used to your conversation being this open, or being on the opposite side of being so flustered. "Save it for when we're not outside! Or better, the back seat. With the doors locked, preferably."

"As you wish, Miss Choi. Besides, but there's nothing I rather eat than your—"

She desperately covers your mouth to stop any further words from escaping as you head to the parking lot, surprised to see there's nothing but abundant sunshine now. Even more surprising is the fact nobody looks twice as the two of you walk together. Maybe it's luck, or maybe everybody here knows damn well what happens on campus between you two. 

And maybe you'll stop sneaking around campus every day, finding just enough time to spend the last half of your lunch hour buried between Arin’s thighs while she tries to hold her moans. 

But maybe you won't. 

[transboyswitchytales]

A Proposition

This is Part 2

Wanda Maximoff Professor X Student Reader

Part 1

Wanda and you hooked up after meeting at a bar. Later, you learn she is your professor and you panic. But is Wanda upset, or is she intrigued by you?

( Mommy kink, 18+ Will block you if under 18)

“You haven’t heard what I’m offering yet.” 

“Professor,” you say again, and the name falls flat, and it only amuses Wanda now. But she looks at you with a twinkle in her eyes. You are both walking and you turn to see if you will be overheard.

“Yes, Darling?”  She says, amused at your paranoia. 

“This is inappropriate.” You whisper loudly. 

“No, what’s inappropriate is if I fucked you on my desk really slow with the strap on from the other night. What would be really, really inappropriate is if I made the class watch. Especially that boy who stares at you all class long, Steve Rogers. That would be sweet revenge. Yeah, that, now that would be inappropriate. You and I met and were two consenting adults, and we still are.” She says with a shrug as if it’s nothing. Your eyes are fucking wide as she says such dirty things. You catch up to the last bit in shock.

“Still are?”

“I don’t know about you, though I have an inkling. But that was the best sex I’ve ever had. It’s also the most chemistry I’ve had, maybe ever. It was never gonna be a one-and-done. At least that wasn’t my plan. I knew at the bar I wanted more than one night with you.” She says, and the blush is now definitely all over your body. 

“Professor-“

“Wan-da.” She sounds out and stops to open a door that is her private office. Unlocking it with her keys. She opens the door and waves her hand for you to enter. You hesitate, and she lifts an eyebrow. You roll your eyes and walk in as she flips the light on. It’s a cute office, her blinds are drawn. But there are plants everywhere, a little mini fridge with stickers from national parks all over it, and it's wall-to-wall shelves that are covered in books. You can’t help yourself; you get distracted and walk over to trace your hands over the spines.

Wanda seems to like this as she shuts the door behind her and locks it. You don’t feel even a little worried, like you know you should. You bend down and pick up a copy of The Count of Monte Cristo. Its leather spine draws you in, and you love the story so much. You open it and look for a publication date. 

“It’s about 80 years old,” Wanda says, pulling off her glasses and leaning against the desk. She threw her bag and keys onto it. Then she lets her hands hold her weight behind her. 

“Fuck.” You say, and suddenly feel bad about picking it up. Wanda seems to take that as you have been scolded by people too much before. But she saves that thought away. 

“You can touch it, honey. It’s ok.” She says, seeing your panic. You ignore her and put it back. Standing back up, you see Wanda looking at you like she was enjoying you on the floor. You chastise yourself to stop imagining her naked. 

“I-“

“I’d like to take you out tonight?”

“Tonight?”

“Yes, well, right now actually. No time like the present,” she says, smiling at you for the hundredth time today. She likes how much she smiles because of you, she hasn’t done that in a very long time. 

“Shouldn’t I play harder to get?” You tease at the lack of dating etiquette she’s showing. She shakes her head 

“Why would you do that? I’ve already tasted you and I want more, I don’t want to play games. And before you ask no I’ve never fucked a student before. I never planned on it before you.”

“But-“

“Our age gap isn’t that wide, Darling. Even if I make you call me Mommy. Don’t look so scandalized. We aren’t breaking any district or college rules. I like you a lot. And I’m not the kind of woman who likes things and then takes no for an answer.”

“You do this with all your one-night stands, then?” You say, and it’s meant to be funny, but it sounds desperate, and you hate it.

“You would be the first person I’ve ever taken home from a bar. I wasn’t going to say anything this soon, but I was married …to a man… for too long....”

“Oh.”

“It’s been a few years. I have tried to date but… no one’s caught my attention.”

“Until now?” You say, and you try not to sound hopeful.

“Until now.” She says more confident than you’d expect.

You turn and look at the books, and she watches you. 

“I think we have more in common than you realize.” She says slowly, and you snort at her. Looking over your shoulder, you are sarcastic to a fault.

“You mean besides the fetishes we share.” It’s not supposed to make you blush more, but you do at your own sentence. She thinks it’s cute and smiles. 

“It’s not just about sex.”

“I’m not sure I believe you.” It’s a bit of a lie, because you want it to be more. But you keep your eyes on the books. So she talks to your back, not seeming bothered by sharing your attention with her library.

“You are getting a BA in English with an emphasis on writing, so did I,” She says, and you look at her like ‘that’s obvious.’ 

“You like old books, and so do I. You are extremely smart. And way funnier than I am.” She says as if she’s already in love, and you aren’t sure how to respond. 

“I don’t know if I’m all that.” You say, and she disagrees with you. Her face shows instantly that she doesn’t like your answer. You turn to her now, fully taking her in. She’s so fucking gorgeous. Her professor's look is sharp as hell. You would happily go back to the floor for her right here, right now. She surprises you, though. 

“You have been hurt by people. That much is clear. So have I. I get that you don’t want to trust me. I’m scared too, but not scared enough to let you walk away without taking my chance.” She says, and her voice dips, and it does things to you. 

“You can tell all that, huh?” You sa,y looking down at your shoes. She walks over and lifts your chin so you are eye to eye. 

“I can see that and much more. I don’t want to hurt you. I just want to be with you, will you let me?” 

You nod slowly, and she moves and kisses you. It’s a sweet kiss, it’s slow and tender. Not possessive and demanding like her kisses the other night. She pulls back and grabs her keys. 

“Come with me.” She holds out her hand, and you take it.

————

That’s how it starts. You go to a restaurant thinking it’ll be one and done. And you have an amazing time, and it’s not the last. Not even close. Wanda is on your ass like white on rice. She’s texting you, calling you, FaceTiming you all the time. You are inseparable. And you fucking love it. You won’t let yourself tell her you love her. Afraid of what that will mean. You are at her apartment all the time. She starts buying your coffee creamer and makes the popcorn brand you like for nights when you watch endless hours of sitcoms. It’s so fucking sappy and it’s getting extremely domestic on a Tuesday. 

You are both sitting on a dryer in a laundromat. You got a big gulp of a cherry slushy. You are waiting for your laundry to be done. She asked if she could come, and you laughed at her and told her it would be boring. Wanda said nothing with you could ever be boring. And here you were both laughing so hard your sides hurt. 

“What do you mean you’ve never had a slushie?” You say after you wipe your eyes from tears over laughing. She reaches over and brushes stray tears from your other cheek. 

“I’m from Socovia, baby. We didn’t have slushies.” Wanda reminds you and you hold the cup up like it’s amrosia from the gods and it’s being blessed.

“That simply won’t do.” 

She giggles at your display, and it’s the best sound. You hold it to her, moving the straw so it bends.

“Isn’t it like water and corn syrup?”

“Do not knock the cherry syrup like that.” You say in mock horror. She shakes her head at you. 

“You know, I keep Swedish fish at my place for you now. I read the back of it. That stuff is gonna kill you, devochka.”

You beam at her, knowing she’s calling you baby girl in her language, feels so sweet. So many partners called you baby. This felt so much better. 

“I’ll die happy.” You say not to defend the red food dye.

“Nu uh, no dying, how about that. You stay my girl and be healthy.” She says, and it feels good under your skin. Being her girl. 

“I can do that.” You whisper and kick your legs up against the machine. She seems to like you flushed and embarrassed, and she moves your jaw and kisses you. It’s long and slow, but unlike her offic,e it’s practiced now. Like two lovers who know how to slow dance with each others, understanding one another's body rhythms. You lean your forehead against hers and slowly open your eyes to see her staring at you with love laced in every single inch. 

“Be a good girlfriend and drink my toxic slush.” You whisper, and she laughs now. 

“I’m your girlfriend, huh?” She says, and you panic.

“I mean-“

“No, no, my love, no take backs. You taught me no take backs.” She reminds you, and you curse because you had taught her that. 

“Well…”

“I did want to ask…”

“Yeah?” You say and tuck a hair behind your ear. She watches it and seems in a trance, looking at you. You look at her with a questioning glance. You take a sip of your drink as she finishes. 

“Are we um… what’s the English word? Are we exclusive?” 

You snort the drink and cough, and she looks panicked as she rubs your back. You breathe again after a few seconds. 

“Um.. do you want to be?” You ask, catching your breath. 

“I was hoping we already were.” She says slowly, and you look confused. 

“Why did you think we weren't?”

“My friend Natasha told me it’s a conversation that people have to have?” She says and looks anxious now like she’s fucked up. 

“You told your friends about me?” It’s what you take from the sentence, and she looks slightly miffed that you haven’t answered her question only asked follow up questions. 

“Moya lyubov', you are killing me with the suspense. I’m a little scared now. Are you seeing someone else? Or sleeping with someone else?” Her eyebrows furrow, and you quickly grab her hands 

“Oh god, no, Wanda. I have no interest and no time. When would I have slept with someone else? I’m always either on the phone with you or at your place. You think I sneak off after your apartment and have a gangbang or something?” You say, and it’s meant to be funny, and her eyes bulged. 

“Gangbang? What is that? Do you get hurt with that?”

“Oh yeah, that’s an English word you might not have heard before. I’ll tell you later. The point is, I’m all yours, ok?” You say, and she instantly relaxes.

“Ok,” Wanda says, and she seems deep in thought again. Her nose scrunches, and you know she’s in the depths of it.

“So who’s Natasha?”

“Friend from college. You’ll like her, she mostly does S.H.I.E.L.D. agent retaining now.” She looks over and you and you nod, impressed. 

“So she’s like super hot and buff?”

“Hey, you are now in a committed relationship. Very taken and very off the market. There will be no hot buff girls in your future. Only this Socovian Professor who is totally going to spank you tonight for that.” She says and scoffs in outrage. 

“Yes professor.” You smirk and she mumbles in her native;’ you’re that she can’t believe you, and you are such a brat. ‘

“So will Natasha be coming by soon?” You say, and she turns bright red and looks at you. 

“No, actually, I’m not sure you are ever meeting her.”

“Is she straight?” You say not getting that you are making Wanda more jealous. 

“Why does this matter?” Her accent comes out and that’s when you realize she’s anxious. 

“Oh, baby, I’m not into your friend. I’m very taken as I just was told. I’m just curious who your friends are.” You say, and you look down at the time on the machine. But when you look back at her, she’s thinking again. 

“Well, there’s Natasha, Clint, who I’m not super close with. But he hangs around Natasha, so I put up with him. He’s gonna love you.”

“Wh,y because of my breasts?” You tease and you swear you see smoke come out of her ears. 

“Hey! I’m not gonna tell you any more about my friends. I’m going to fuck you in that bathroom instead.” She points to the grungy bathroom. 

“Not a bad time for me. But I’ll behave. Why would Clint like me? Would Natasha not like me?” 

“No, she’d like you too. She already does. She’s always telling me what I should do with us.”

“Good stuff?” You say feeling weird. 

“I’m not used to dating in the U.S I don’t know the customs of what’s too much too soon.”

You reach over and grab her hand.

“You don’t need advice. You can just talk to me. I’ll tell you.” You say, and Wanda rubs her thumb over your knuckles. She gulps and agrees.

“I know, but you scare easily sometimes, and I don’t want to ruin this or scare you away.” She says it, and it’s so vulnerable and rea,l and you know, just the feeling.

“Wanda Maximoff, you sweet charmer. You got me pretty wrapped up in you. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.” She meets your eyes and grins now. Her mega-watt smile, the one she only gives you. 

“So Clint.” You say, and she goes on.

“While he would love to see you naked, he’s never going to. Because your mine. He’s a jokester, and he will love laughing with you. Because he’s effortlessly funny.” 

“So are you.” You say taking a sip. She furrows her brows.

“I am so not funny.” She says, and you disagree. 

“I think I’ll be the judge of that.”

“My brother was funny. He would have adored you.” She says, and it’s only the third time she’s brought him up. You cup her cheek and she lays her hand on top of yours. You know she’s got a lot of trauma. 

“You think so?”

“I know it.” 

“Ok, so your brother, Natasha and Clit like me. Who else is in your life that you are hiding from your girlfriend?” You say, and she chuckles. Her face hurts from smiling this much. Like it has a lot recently because of you. 

“Well, I used to hang out with this guy Stephen. He’s a doctor, well surgeon now, so he’s pretty busy, but we email a lot. Bruce is getting his PHD, so he’s slammed, but he texts me pretty regularly. He’s upset with his boyfriend a lot.”

“Wow, you have smart friends.” You say, and she arches an eyebrow,

“You won’t think that when you meet them. Beside,s I have a way smarter girlfriend.”

“Then a PHD student, a surgeon, and a S.h.i.e.l.d agent?”

“You are waaaay smarter.” She says, and you don’t believe her, but her face proves she believes it. Wanda doesn’t lie to you. Even when she wishes she could because it would be easier in some moment. 

The dryer dings and you hop down. Wanda looks anxious for a moment, not wanting this date to end. You don’t see her worry and you speak. 

“So I’m thinking we grab dinner and then you read my paper, professor.”

Wanda instantly feels relief that the night isn’t over. She hops down and takes your laundry out of the hamper you are putting it in, and starts folding. 

“What are you doing, Maximoff?” You sa,y and she looks momentarily taken aback at you using her last name.

“Folding?”

“I think we have to be married for you to fold my underwear. You can’t just do that, like we haven’t been dating only three months.”

She looks confused at you. She wants to talk more about marriage, but changes her mind. 

“Who do you think folds your laundry at my apartment?”

“Oh my god, you so do. You throw my clothes in with yours, too. Oh my god, you do my laundry.”

“Yeah, I’m also in a lesbian relationship, so I put your bra on the delicate cycle. Not just throwing it in with jeans like an ape.” She says, and your mouth opens. She looks proud as she folds one of your sweatshirts with more precision than you’ve ever folded. She doesn’t stop at your shocked expression, grabbing a pair of your sweats. 

“That…is really hot.”

Wanda throws her head back and her curls bounce as she laughs at you. 

“My love, you’ve never been taken care of, and it shows.” She say,s and it’s light coming from her, but you realize that it’s really true. 

“Maybe, or maybe you just take care of me really well. Like better than anyone ever has.” You say and shut the door. You turn to load another load into the washer and move the wet clothes to the dryer. You pull out quarters and miss Wanda looking at you. Because she has more love for you than she thought she could have for anyone. After breaking her marriage with Vision and the loss of her family, her brother. She felt so lost and alone. But here you were, like a bolt of lightning into her dead heart. And now she felt like she was living, for maybe the first time ever. 

“I’m thinking Thai. But I know you didn’t like the place on 3rd, even though you say you didn’t mind it. You barley ate your drunken noodles. And I know you were hungry cuz we went on that hike. So don’t even say “that place you like.’ Because I know my girlfriend way better than that.” You say, and it’s so easy, and you don’t even think about it. 

Wanda looks at you still. She felt such warmth in her chest. You were now throwing around her new title with ease. Like she’d always owned it. And she realized she’d wanted your lips to say wife. And then she felt herself growing hot. So she coughed, and you looked at her. 

“What? Did you find gum in my clothes? That’s happened here before, and it ruined an awesome sweater that had a Jane Austen quote. It wrecked me.” You say throwing a laundry pod in the wash and cranking it to start. 

“You take really good care of me…too, just so you know,” Wanda says and she stops folding but looks down at your black jeans with new interest. You walk behind her and snake your arms around her waist. 

“Wanda?”

“Hmm?”

“You think I take good care of you?”

“You make my to-go coffee in the morning better than I do now. You cook for me, and you make sure I take my meds at night. You always check in when you know I’m sad. Or reaching out when you know I’ve gone dark and gloomy, so I haven’t texted. You always lift my spirits and make me laugh…I…no one’s ever cared for me like you.” She says, and you kiss her neck. She leans back into you, and you repeat kisses over her shoulder and up her throat. 

“I don’t want anyone else to.”

“To what?”

“To take care of you. I want to do it.” You say, and she turns and wraps her arms around your neck. 

“No other college girls have applied, so you have job security.” She jokes, and you laugh sarcastically. 

“I thought you didn’t date college girls.”

She pretends to think about it and you pinch her ass and she laughs. 

“Only one college girl.”

“Aye, woman.”

“All women.” She says and leans in and kisses you sucking your bottom lip in. You moan, and she pulls bac,k putting her hand over your mouth.

“Those noises are for me, not the laundromat!” She hisses at you. You lightly bite her hand, and she pulls back.

“Oh, please, the only guy in here is drunk. It’s not like we are being live streamed on pornhub.”

“Ok, slow down, American girl. Livestream? Pornhub? Gangbang?”

“Sometimes the language barrier is really funny and other times it’s hilarious.” 

Wanda glares at you but grabs your ass and squeezes. Making it clear she’s won… again.

“Lifestream is when you are giving a live, real-time feed onto the internet.”

She nods, and you continue. That was probably the most innocent explanation and you figured you’d build into the other ones.  

“Pornhub is a website with pornography videos.”

Her eyes zero in on you. 

“Do you watch porn on Pornhub.”

“I have.” You answer, not about to deny it. 

“Do you still?”

You shrug as if it’s nothing. 

“Why?”

“I don’t want you to.” She answers plainly, but her eyes are squinting at you. Her nose scrunched, and you laughed. 

“Are you being a prude? Because you made me squirt before. Hell you’ve tied me up and fucked my mouth with a dildo. Plus, the names you like in bed or call me in bed. I don’t think you have a leg to stand on here.”

“No, I’m not a prude. And plenty of women like being called Mommy in bed. I have no shame for what we do. I just don’t want my girlfriend masturbating to someone else.” She said the last part at a high decibel in her voice, and you realize you’ve hit a new nerve for her. 

“So you are a prude.” You say, and she glares deeper now.

“I don’t think this is a hard ask. I don’t masturbate to porn.”

“Do you masturbate?” You ask genuinely curious now.

“Besides, when I’m on the phone with you, no.” She admits looking over at the man, clearly passed out in the corner. Before looking back at you. 

“Before me?”

“You know I own a vibrator and some dildos,” Wanda says as if this line of questioning makes no sense. 

“I know I just am curious what you cum to.”

“I used to use my imagination. Now I am having so much sex, I don’t have time or the desire to masturbate. Not when it’s so much better when I’m straddling your face. Why would I want to use my vibrator alone?” Wanda says, unsure of why this doesn’t make sense to you. Her arms stay around your neck. 

“Hmm..”

“What?” She says a little too sharply.

“I think we should go to a kink event.”

“What?” She looks shocked at your answer.

“You might like it. Plus it’s always interesting.”

“Will you be clothed?”

“Yes, baby, I won’t let anyone else touch me. But you are a bit of a dominatrix, I think you’d like to see it. And if you don’t like porn then it’s an intresting way to watch.”

“I’m not much of a voyeur.” She says having learned the word from you. 

“You like watching me. But that’s not the point. If you don’t wanna go, we don’t have to. No pressure whatsoever. But I do think it would be interesting. On the conversation of porn, I won’t watch it if it makes you uncomfortable. I haven’t really masturbated much since we started dating. Maybe twice in the shower on my own, but it was all to thoughts of you.”

This seems to make Wanda feel better. 

“Do you mind that I’m…”

“Possessive? Jealous?” You insert the thoughts. 

“Dominant?” Wanda says even though all of those thoughts crossed her mind as well. 

“I like it all. I like that you put your hand on my ass when someone is staring at me at Starbucks. I like that you make me beg and call you Mommy in bed. I like that you ask me what I’m reading because you like picking out books for me.” You say and Wanda’s hands travel to your ass again.

 She likes to touch you. She, for the first time, is allowed to do PDA. Vision didn’t even like holding hands, so it’s a big shift. Wanda craves being able to touch you. So she wouldn’t be able to stop in public if she tried. The hand on your lower back through a crowd gives her a shot of a power high. She knows you are gorgeous, and you chose her. So she doesn’t keep her hands to herself ever. 

“You said you liked my book recommendations.” 

“I do. I even lie and say I haven’t read it just so I can re-read it and talk to you about it.”

“You lie!” She yells now. 

“Only about books. Only because I like it when we talk about them.” You admit, and she softens her gaze on you. 

“You are getting punished for that later.”

“I’m game. After we get pad Thai, cuz your baby needs food.” You break the contact and throw one of your Lacey thongs like a slingshot, and it hits her face. 

“Nice shot, kid.” The drunk man in the corner says, and you smirk at Wanda’s shock. His eyes were closed.

“Thanks, Ernie.” You say, and Wanda looks at you in horror.