#student x reader

[deniable-masterpiece]

Wally anon new request 6: Dom!bottom!Wally × Sub!top!reader where Wally has been very clearly presenting his ass for the reader in their shared gym class, but the reader is either oblivious or trying not to look. So, Wally kicks things up a notch by purposely wearing super tight gym shorts (& no underwear) so that his intentions are completely clear when they split. This leads to both being sent home for the day, so Wally takes the reader back to his house to finally see what their fingers/mouth/dick can do.

getting what he wants | Wally Clark x Male!Reader

a/n — I bring youuuu poorly written Wally smut as per usual, peace out for the night!

summary — check the ask

warnings — flashing, semi-public (kinda?), slight homophobia w/ reconciliation, anal, bottom!Wally, rimming

words — 6.7k

~~~

Of all the reasons you could have been sent to the principal’s office, this is the last thing on you’d expect on your list of things to be it. Better yet, you weren’t even in the principal’s office, you were sitting just outside of his room. Your white gym shirt with the Split River logo pressed onto the breast of the front clung to your body with the sweat you had worked up, along with the sweat added from how harsh the buzzing fluorescents above laid it on you before the principal could. Through the air of mystery, you could see the door to his office was shut, and you could hear the disappointment in his gruff voice like a captain let down by his crew. 

Then a much younger, softer, and stuttering voice hit against the wooden door a little lighter than the principal’s garbling. You couldn’t really care what the principal had to say because you knew that you would hear it from Wally when he’ll have found some reason to talk to you after his little stunt, and this was inevitably becoming his first topic of conversation for the future. The words of your classmate were delivered in such an oblivious way, swearing that he “didn’t know any better!” He called it poor judgement—an accident based on the misguidance of clothing tags and their ever-changing standards. He put the blame on his diet that he kept up for football, not realizing where all the weight was going. He listed every excuse in the book but never once did he say it was a mistake. 

No one could really attest to it, because his mixed signals confused you and no one else was really around to see the signs before today. Only you, the gym coach, and Wally knew about his fiasco when it happened, but you couldn’t help but think of the times leading up to it.

It started out pretty innocuously. Wally would make sure to walk by your locker as you changed when he was heading to the showers, ensuring that he was completely naked and walking with anything but shame in his step. It wasn’t much of a surprise since everyone ignored the rule to wait until you were in the shower room to completely strip—unless you wanted to bring an extra pair of boxers, the ones you had would get soaked without anywhere to hang them; it was the school’s way of keeping things appropriately running—but it just meant that you made an extra note to skip taking a past-gym class shower. Then, when those attempts didn’t work, he decided to move his locker right next to yours since it was available. At the start of the year, you made sure to pick one with a low density of stuff visible through the holes of each locker just so that there were less people, but Wally insisted that too many people were in his cramped locker bank so the gym coach agreed to move him to a different locker, not really bothering to notice that his new pick was right next to yours. When he was changing, he always made sure to flaunt his ass in any way possible. Things constantly fell out of his hands so he had a reason to bend over, and he’d do mundane things like reapplying deodorant after class and putting on his shirt first to avoid covering his bare ass until it was absolutely necessary. And even then, he would pick something to wear that hugged his ass tight, and prop his foot up on the bench in the locker dwelling when tying his Nikes so you either had to squeeze between his backside and the row of lockers to leave or go around. Your dick would have been thankful to take the tighter way out, but your head didn’t want the rush of a headache from even having to apologize for getting that close to him, so you took the long way around the bench in the middle that allowed this obstacle to exist. 

The last of these was what plummeted Wally directly into the seat on the other side of the principal’s desk. There was a moon high in the sky, still visible in the morning sun. Blue skies painted the football field outside where the coach decided to hold gym class, long stretches of cirrocumulus clouds added white stripes around the freshly risen sun. It had finally gotten warm enough to not end class with a sweat on your forehead and frostbite at the tips of your fingers, and there was one person among the rest who was more than happy to embrace this weather. Wally Clark, who wore light-gray sweatpants for the past thirty-six days of class, now left the building in a part of shorts two sizes too small. He made a point to walk all the way down to the athletic field in front of you so you could see everything in the back shake with each step. There were a few rude exchanges between you and him, the majority of which were you telling him to give up the act, only for him to play dumb. There was a moment when you thought you might be reading into things too much, but the countless times he had clearly presented his ass made that seem impossible. If anything, you wished that you could think about it less. 

When you reached the field, you tried to stave off the sight and focus on whatever game the coach had chosen to play on the first day back outside since the winter rolled over, and it took you a few moments to clue yourself in on what it was you were even playing after Wally’s distractions worked. It was something about field hockey, the teams divided into shirts and skins upon his order. You got to keep your clothes on but Wally was more than happy to remove his, leaving him in only his shorts and trusty Nike’s. 

And after an entire forty minutes of running, bending, and twisting each and every way in them, they split right down the middle. Thankfully, the coached dismissed everyone back to the lorckerrooms and showers to clean up before their other classes, so you and Wally were the only two students left on the field. You wanted to do your due diligence after partially contributing to the mess made, and Wally must have felt the same. There was a bin in the middle of the field that you, Wally, and the coach stayed behind to dump things in. You didn’t have to be neat or careful with it, which spawned Wally’s recklessness. He only had one thing in his hand—the hockey ball, and he approached the bin from a distance. His footsteps stopped several feet away from the bin, and he attempted a jump shot from where he was standing. You watched him from further away, your own ball of miscellaneous equipment from sticks to orange disc cones preventing you from cheering him on. It was a reminder that he wasn’t so bad when he wasn’t trying so hard to get your attention. He was having fun, just like you remember it. He missed, but your eyes followed him as he rounded the bin, bending down to pick up the ball. That’s when it happened. 

There were two moons out that morning, and one of them elicited the dreadful sound of the coach’s whistle to make the only two people left stop in their tracks. That’s how you ended up in the office, the squeaky turn of the door handle pulling you away from your reverie. A figure exited the room.

It was Wally, the unmistakable blue and white covering his midsection and a hastily thrown-on pair of grey sweatpants that weren’t even tied up streaking past you. He walked to the exit of the office, giving a quick glance down to you in passing. In a hushed tone, he whispered to you, “Say yes.” 

There was no time to elaborate on it since he was out the glass door leading to the front lobby and left the school just as you heard your name being called. The unfazed look he had tugged at your worry, his usual swagger untouched while you were shakily following in his steps to the principal’s small office. You walked in to see him perusing a football magazine. His rotund gut extended far enough that he could rest his arm on it and hold the paper at eye level without having to tilt his head down and ruin his buttery smooth double-chin. You could see the page flipped to the back, and it looked to have some catalog of equipment to order. Maybe he had really given Wally something to think about, but your hopes for any kind of just punishment went out the window when he set it down and the real page he was reading was no more than a blurb covering half of the page regarding Split River’s greatest athlete and his many achievements. You didn’t have to look at the name to know the face. Wally never told you that he had made the local magazine, but then again, he probably felt that he couldn’t.

He started the conversation, picking up on your silence. The nameplate sitting at the edge of his desk, Principal Dolettal, felt painfully real as he spoke. “You’re not in trouble. I just need you to give me your side of the events and how it affected you and then you’re free to head home for the day.”

How it affected you, that’s all your mind could think of. You wanted to say that there was nothing to it, that his action left you a little startled for his own safety but nothing more. Even with his thin-minded expressions, you envied him. They completed each other in the few hours that they spent with each other, yet with Wally, there was a time when you felt like you spent all of your precious time on Earth with him—and him only. You let a breath pass your lips and it gave life to him, you could occupy the world yourselves and never grow tired of each other.

What could he do if you said the truth? He didn’t know your history with Wally and if you shed any light on that, he would treat it worse than how he is now. At least he believed this to be a boys-will-be-boys situation and nothing more. Pure immaturity. So, you looked down from his gaze and spoke softly like a child too scared to tell the truth. “I really didn’t see much. I didn’t even know his shorts split open like that, I just happened to be on the field.”

“Alright. Do you have anyone that can give you a ride home?” He picked at his facial hair like he couldn’t keep a professional composure for more than a second. “Or should I call your parents?”

“Yes, I do. Wally can drive me.” You said, a bit too fast to sound like you hadn’t thought about it, and the principal picked up on it.

“Mr. Clark did flash you earlier, so I just want you to be sure. If you feel safe leaving with him, then there’s nothing I can do, but you are welcome to stay until we can get you another ride home.” He must not have wanted to fight you on it, so you took the opportunity to leave.

“No, it’s fine. Thanks.”

Your steps followed the same path as Wally’s when you left Dolettal’s office. The sun rose to a higher point in the sky than when you had been sent to the principal’s office; the rays cast down reached Wally before the other objects surrounding him. It was a straight shot to the parking lot from the school’s entrance. In the mid-day glow, Wally’s head poked out high above the cars around him, so he was easy to find and cross the blacktop pavement to reach. He watched you get closer to him, his face brightening like a giraffe watching food just out of reach sway towards it in a stroke of good luck.

Looking at your presence couldn’t give him a clue in the world as to how you felt, and your words didn’t indicate whether you had forgiven him, or if you were pissed. You spoke, letting your words take either direction so that his response couldn’t be predetermined by the tone. “What was that for?”

“Well, they refuel the buses around this time. I missed a football game because of that bullshit once.” He leaned back against his car—a dark maroon-brushed ’78 Chevrolet Bel Air, both feet planted on the ground with his entire weight falling against it. He had crossed his arms but moved one out of the way to talk emphatically, “Besides, your parents would be pissed at me and you. So, I’ll give you a ride home as repayment—even if you so owe me for the sight.”

Wally turned around, opening his car door and slotting himself into the passenger seat. You rounded the front end of his car and realized that this was the same place he always parked. The way you danced around to the passenger side had been done so many times already that you instinctively knew the routine, being mindful of the way that he always pulled into his parking spot with a little trial and error. He could never center his car perfectly, and he would adjust his car in micro-movements before giving up and letting it be the way that it was, imperfect. This time was no different, his car was angled slightly to the left like always. Even the seat was kept in your same position, not shifted one inch since the last time you sat in his car. It was still the way you liked to ride in his car, seated far back enough so that you were a little behind Wally and could easily make out all of his details in your peripherals while having enough legroom to never feel cramped. The comfortability and residual familiarity let you continue this new discussion.

“No, I mean that we haven’t talked since the start of the school year and suddenly you’re all interested in me?” You looked over at him when you asked the question, but couldn’t hold your confidence and turned away before he could give you an answer. You tried to distract yourself by opening his glove box and reaching inside. Surely, something had to be different.

Your hand landed on a ball of paper that you pulled out; it was an old gum wrapper with a dried-up piece of gum worked over by every tooth in your mouth. It was kinda of gross that he kept it, but it reminded you of the summer between junior and senior year, when Wally picked you up for your first unofficial date. Your relationship had blossomed into something more than what typical guy-friends have, but you had yet to actually kiss him or do much of anything else. It wasn’t really a relationship, but your stupid head couldn’t shake the thought of a kiss happening, so you chewed about a hundred pieces of gum when the day arrived. The final piece was popped into your mouth right as you got into his car for the final time that night. The band, Cheap Trick, toured that night, and after the high of the concert, he looked at you differently. Something in his eyes was missing that allowed him to lean forward just as the gum went past your lips, bringing himself to them and making you regret leaving such an artificial taste on the surface instead of letting him experience you fully. That’s why you spit it out into the wrapper that was still in your hands and continued, unsure of where the gum ended up as your thoughts were only distracted by him. The two of you didn’t mention the kiss for the rest of the night, but you thought about it ever since.

You played with it for a second before speaking again, trying to prompt Wally to open up—to the same unfiltered mouth he sang along to If You Want My Love with speak. “I’m not complaining, it’s nice to get you back before life kicks our assess after graduation.”

The gum cracked in your hand when you applied the lightest bit of pressure between your fingers. It must have become brittle from the months it spent in his car, drying up from the cold and just beginning to thaw out as the days got warmer. You cupped the dull shards and funneled them into your pocket, making a note to dispose of them at Wally’s house when you got there. He did the opposite, pulling a set of keys out of his pocket to start his car.

After that, Wally didn’t speak for a beat. Not even a breath escaped him, like for a second, he was lifeless. “I had a close call at the homecoming game and that’s when I tried to be a different person. Started taking what I wanted and I’m trying to get you to do the same.”

“I didn’t know about that.” You felt a little guilty. 

“Why should you? You can’t die from a sprained ankle… unless you’re really reckless.”

“And what you did wasn’t?"

Wally put his arm behind your seat, turning to look out the back of his window as he pulled his car out of his parking spot. He used the opportunity to look at you since he was already facing in your direction and laughed. “I just kept thinking of your face when I did it.”

The car ride was silent after that. You didn’t have much to add and Wally turned the dial on his radio so that the station he had it tuned to would blare out music to cover it. The station he had it on played a lot of one specific genre that sounded familiar to you, only becoming identifiable when the same song you remember him singing along to came on. 

You decided to turn it down. Mouthing the words to his favorite song reminded you a little too much of the silent goodbyes he said, leaving you without anything to go on at the start of the school year. “So, what did he say?”

“He just said that I need to be more careful. Guess he bought the bullshit.” Wally snickered, adding as it resurfaced quickly in his memory, “Oh, and I need my football uniform re-evaluated since the tights ‘could be an issue in the future.’” Halfway through his remembrance of what the principal said, he slipped into an imitation of what your principal sounded like to let you know that those were likely his exact words. He drifted back into the pitch of his natural voice when asking for your help.  “You can help me test that problem, right?”

“Right.”

“My house it is then.” He made a turn down a road that you had never bothered to go down, but in the end, it was a new way to get to his house. He did the motions of opening his garage, pulling in, and putting the car in park. From what you could see of the exterior, everything was as you remembered it to be. The carefully cared-for front lawn had some metal pickets of butterflies and flowers to welcome spring, and they dazzled in front of the basic white panels and red bricks stacked on top of each other. The house itself was still the angular, layered design you noted about it before. The roof was the most complex shape of the whole thing, crossing over itself several times with subtly pointed shapes.

The two of you climbed out of his car. His house didn’t change much since the last time you saw it. A few pictures of his family were swapped out and, most notably, the final in a series of yearly school photos filled out the centerpiece of a frame. The senior year picture was the biggest and in the center, with kindergarten through eleventh grade filling out the rest in an oval. Wally looked really good in his senior photo—you remembered the exact suit and tie he wore for it, seeing him change out of it in gym class when he wasn’t so desperately trying to pull your attention to him. You naturally found a way of looking at him when the time called for it, but Wally was never good with timing to know when he should come back into your life.  

The entire first floor fed into itself in a circle, going from the living room to the kitchen in the back, and then into the dining room to your left. The second floor was a T-shaped hallway, and thankfully, his door was the first one upon reaching the top step. It faced you as you stood there, and you could imagine all of the mad dashes out the door in an attempt to make it to school on time after sleeping in. The gold plating adorning the knob had chipped off, specifically around the parts in which a hand would wrap around it. He must have shut the door a lot, giving reason to use the knob to open it. You wondered if more gold covered the handle on the inside than the one facing the hallway.

Wally found purchase with the doorknob, his hand covering the spots of black from the worn-off gold almost perfectly. He twisted the knob and the door opened, revealing a mess of a room. His room had never been as clean as yours, mostly due to the fact that he had ever-changing interests that piled high in his room. From consistent things like sports that caused him to have framed football jerseys and posters cluttering the walls to a whopping two CD stands to house all the newfangled CDs he was lucky enough to own, his room was all over the place in terms of his many teenage phases, yet was strung together by his consistent love for all of it, equally. His desk sat by the one of two windows in his room and was expectedly disorganized with frustration as scattered loose-leaf pages of notes and textbooks filled his desk and the surrounding carpet space. The other window sat partially blocked by his bed in front of it. It was wider than the one by his desk and positioned in the middle of the wall, so his bed was anchored to a similar position.

“When did this mess start?” You asked, stepping into his room as he moved around to start tidying up.

“Around October.” Wally loomed over the scattered clothes on his floor. He picked up a sheaf of clothes with his hands, blue and white mingling in a fleeting tie-dye together. Every time he bent down to add another piece to the growing collection in his arms, you snuck a peak at what he had been teasing you for weeks on end—what you had been starving yourself of. How the hell did you avoid it for so long? Sure, going in no-strings-attached would have caused some loose threads to be pulled when it was over, but you knew you loved Wally ever since you saw him at your first football practice. Loose sleeves and pant legs dangled from the misshapen ball in his grasp, and he apologized before shoving what he could into his already overflowing closet. “Just got caught up with everything.”

You picked up a pair of his sweatpants that he had yet to scoop off the ground. The tag read ‘Large’ and looked like they would actually fit him, unlike his small gym shorts. He must have chosen to leave all of his fitting clothes at home. He swiped the pair out of your hand a second later, trailing back to his closet to throw them in with the new messy pile he created in it. Just before it could tumble back out and spill out on to his floor, he hurriedly shut the door to his closet. 

You gave him a puzzled look. He replied, “Tomorrow’s problem.”

You sighed in understanding before asking him, “Where are we doing this, now?” 

“What do you mean?” His soft brown eyes looked to you, but your eyes only narrowed. Was he trying to play dumb?

“Well, I can only think of what you’ve been teasing me with.” You pretended to think about it before deadpanning, “Your ass, dude. Where am I playing with it, unless you expect me to kneel down where you stand?”

He smirked, “That wouldn’t be so bad, but let’s try the stuff with clothes first.”

“Right, the football gear.”

Wally started heading out of his room before stopping to look back at you with concerned eyes. He held up a hand, ready for your protest as he spoke, “Don’t get grossed out, dude. But I may not have had a chance to wash it."

It had been a couple of weeks since the last game of the season, and Wally’s football uniform smelled like aged sweat deeply marinated. Freshly resurfaced from the bottom of his shared laundry basket, you would only smell it if you were in passing with the lingering giant. But now, he stood even taller as you were on your knees. The view started at his feet—nothing but the twists of shag carpet seeping between his toes. He didn’t bother putting his cleats on for the sake of making a mess, plus it was less for you to remove in just a few, long moments of savoring him. The real party started at his ankles, a ring of white cutting off any skin as it tightly wrapped around his calves and thighs. All the way up to his hips, wrapping around bare skin, not even the cup disrupting the flow at his crotch. His dick was instead running down his thigh, soft but still leaving a big imprint. Then, his blue jersey laid on top without the shoulder padding to fill him out. The school provided those so he had to improvise with his muscles alone. 

There were some things, though, that didn’t need padding. Your view changed within seconds to be looking up the more curvy side—his back. He turned around, bending over and giving you a show with his tights on. Maybe it was a growth spurt, or some kind of extra protein intake because he really didn’t fit into these tights. You were surprised that he got changed into them as fast as he did, squeezing all of his ass into fabric that could’ve so easily ripped from being pushed to their limits. But then again, he was used to it.

“I can feel something back there,” Wally marveled. His ghostly white hands reached around to pull at his cheeks, signaling for you to take a look. You could see the white conforming to his ass and creating a line down the middle, deeply digging into any space where it wouldn’t be so stretched out by his globes. They needed a break already from holding in all that he carried.

“Yeah, it’s digging into your ass. Was it always like this?” Your thumb ran over it subconsciously, tracing the line to feel how deep his crack actually was. You tried to think back to the last few years when Wally would happily put on his gear before picking you up for his big game. You were too focused on his face—his eyes, and the way they looked at you more than he would look at the road or to check his mirrors. You were always in the room with him when he changed, but you were never actually present for the moment that his clothes were off. All of it became a blur that slowly started to come back into focus once you actually looked at him.

“You mean you weren’t looking at it all the time?” Wally leaned back, bringing you closer to his ass. As if he wasn’t already big enough to take up most of your sight from where he stood already. 

“No.” That wasn’t a total lie. You noticed his attempts, but you were never actually staring at his ass. It felt undeserved because it was only a beckoning attraction and not something you could actually have. Not until now.

Wally didn’t take it personally. He had a long time to take things personally with you now. “How deep does it go?”

You let your thumb fully sink into the crack, “Pretty deep.”

Kind of like your friendship, this was his open wound for you. The very thing he presented was also the same thing he was scared of exposing. He wanted to push the spotlight onto anything else, but words wouldn’t be enough to show how much he loved you. He wanted you to have him at his most sensitive—a cluster of nerves tighter than the tension from when you wanted to tell him to leave. But he also wanted to be found, to feel your heat. He wanted you to be the thing making his face hot and red. Like it was now.

There was a small pinhole in the area where light didn’t shine, probably from him stretching these pants now. You pushed your thumb into it and made it wider. Wally couldn’t tell exactly what you were doing until he started to hear the fabric rip. He let his cheeks go so that you could do your magic.

“I think this is our problem area.” You assessed it, adding your second thumb and pulling in opposite directions with both. Surprisingly, it wasn’t hard to tear because Wally had stretched it out so much to the point that it had become thin. The seams started to split and you saw his ass immediately filling the open space. 

You kept tearing until the split reached the thick waistband and wouldn’t separate anymore. Most of his cheeks were out by that point and were accentuated by the tight lycra going under and around them, pushing them up for an even better perky ass than the one he already had.  You smacked his bare ass, “There, now you’ll have to buy a new one.”

He sounded mildly upset when he yelled: “Dude!” 

“You’re already down a pair of shorts, and I was putting this fabric out of its misery! Besides, you could make it to the end zone much faster without all that restraint.” Your thumb found its way over the same crack it was trying to split moments ago. Finally, the barrier is gone and the many obstacles between then and now are like yard lines on the football field, marking the distance you’ve come with him. 

“You want to see me out there like this, huh?” One of his hands slid back to tug grip his cheek, fingers digging in and molding the fat. He exposed his hole. “Admit it, you were looking the whole time.”

Your heart nearly stopped—it was his core, and it was staring back at you with passion. It was intimidating; you didn’t want to hurt such a precious thing but Wally had spent half the year flaunting it—asking for it like it was something he carnally craved. “If you go out there naked, I’ll be at every one of your games.” 

“Good, then you can be there when I do this.” Wally trusted that, this time, you were looking at his ass. You could see it coming closer, the warmth and weight of him coming down onto your face. He was bent at the knee, planting his ass on the tip of your nose before dragging himself down to your lips. And like that, you connected to him.

With your face wedged between his cheeks, your lips got a slight taste of it. You pulled away from the sour tang. “It tastes kind of bad…”

“Dude, we were in gym.”

Rolling your eyes, you added, “You did zero workouts, dumbass. What’s all this sweat for—you nervous?”

“Shut up and eat it.” His hands fluffed the hair on the back of your head softly before pressing you into him again. You couldn’t pull away because of his grip, growing tighter as the pleasure made him stiffen. The warmth of your breath ruminating along the small of his back and the wetness of your lips against his hole was almost too much for him. Almost. He wanted more.

“Fuck, tongue out.” He insisted with few words. You listened, tasting the mix of musk and sweat even more than before. With his hand on the back of your head, he pressed his ass back and rubbed himself along your still tongue in little movements. He reparked his ass on your face several times over, “Keep going.”

At that point, he was speaking to himself. His head was rolled back. Looking up, you could see the black hair peeking over the back of his blue jersey. You were doing nothing besides sitting like a “good boy,” as you heard him say in the flurry of his many praises. You couldn’t see it but Wally was palming himself in the front, running his hand down his length from outside of the white tights. The scratchy material of his game pants was stimulating enough to send him crazy. The way that it messed with his sensitive tip only made him go harder on you, craving an increasing stimulation from both sides. Your tongue was wet but not enough, his cock was hard but not wet enough. This isn’t how he wanted to cum—not yet.

Wally’s weight on you was lifted, and the grip on the back of your head loosened, letting you back away to catch a breath. All you could smell was him, all you could taste was him, and your face was red all over, showing that you had been affected by his ass.

When he turned around you could see his cock making a much greater impression in his pants than when he was soft. He was longer, reaching the midway point of his thigh and it was noticeably redder, taking on a pinkish hue from behind the paling cloak. He must have been really close to cumming, since each step that caused his skin or the rough material to run over his dick caused him to stop for a second. Any friction must have been sending him over the edge. 

Wally was losing air himself, his commands sounding less dominant than ever. He could speak, but it was all coming out with a bit of force, like he was exhuming the last bit of his breath to say, “Get on the bed.”

You did as he said, listening to him without objection. Wally’s bed was firm, but it needed to be to fit a giant like him. His pillows were soft and his comforter was even softer. Both, expectedly, smelled like him. You hoped that his scent would linger on you for the rest of time. His sheets smelled redolent of his musk, but aged, like his football gear, yet fresh, like his apple-scented shampoo and citrus body wash. 

Wally didn’t take long to join you. He removed anything hampering your ability to fuck him, setting you free but still under his control. Then, his weight became a familiar presence once again as you laid on your back, he straddled your crotch. The open and easy access of his bubble butt meant that he could easily press himself down onto you, skin against skin, without having to do so much as think about it.

He teased you, grinding down onto your hard length while he spent as much time as possible pulling himself out. It was all done to kill time, to wind himself down from his premature release, and to prepare himself to take your dick. He wanted it so bad, but he knew that he’d just make a mess of his tights if he put you inside of him too early. So he fought with his too-little tights, almost upset that he had let himself bond with such restrictive pants. He couldn’t tell when teasing became desperation, the soft rock back onto your hot and heady stiffness was something he was willing to settle for. But he managed to bunch down the waistband in the front, tucking it under his balls so it wouldn’t interrupt his following motions.

A smirk came across Wally’s face. With a knee on either side of your hips, he lifted his hips up and pulled his ass away from you, reaching back to make sure your dick would be aligned with his hole. He leaned forward, whispering, “And the last move I’ll do? Riiiiding the pony.” 

Then, he motioned back. Neither you nor Wally were prepared for that first feeling—the way the tip of your dick was being wrung out by his hole, and how the tip of your dick stretched him out. He took it better than you, as you were already turning your head and burying yourself deeper into his pillows. 

For Wally, the hardest part was getting your tip in. Once he could start sliding down your length, he slid down your dick. He bottomed out and sat there for a moment, wiggling his ass back and forth for the little that he could. This is what you had been missing out on for months—his perky ass dominating you, making you weak. 

It made you curl and squirm when he started bouncing up and down. Wally may not have liked being an athlete, but he did like the payoff of having a built-up endurance and some muscle to keep the pace going.  He was able to control the pace and when you got relief. He used you as his own fucktoy, riding your cock more than you got to fuck him. There were moments during his rhythmic bounces that he would stop at the top of your dick, flex his ass, wait another moment, and then sit right back down on your dick.

Even during his faster movements, Wally’s dick bounced up and down, nearly hitting his stomach as it rose and nearly hitting yours when it fell. It bobbed in the direction that he moved along your dick. His balls felt odd when they touched your stomach but filled the space between his spread legs. They were big and heavy, barely lifting from your stomach unless he sat all the way up when riding you.

During one of these rises to the tip of your dick. He called your name, but not as a moan or desperate cry for release, no. He drew your attention to his hand. It was held under your mouth, around chin-level, cupped to hold something. He was leaning forward, his face as close as it had been in a minute. You didn't know what until he told you to "spit." You were already losing it, so another command to follow proved to be easy. His hand glistened in the middle with a wad of spit when he sat back upright. Then, he started slicking up his own dick with your spit, losing himself in the process.

And soon, his hard work had brought him back to his peak. He was ready to cum, and didn’t bother asking if you were—he could still continue to ride you even after spending his load, but he could tell that you were close by the way that you moaned his name and how your hips were starting to buck involuntarily whenever he stayed at the tip of your dick like he did.

Wally moaned for the last time, aiming his dick down so his cum sprayed all along your chest and body. He pumped it out in thick ropes, and he could feel you filling his ass with white hot cum, only adding more to how turned on he was.

After a final few tugs, Wally knew he was done. Nothing was coming out and it seemed that your high was starting to fade. He decided to pull off of you and he moved down, licking up the ropes of cum sprayed across your torso. He got it all up in one clean lick, starting from the bottom and moving to the top. It was right around where your nipple was, and then, he moved up to kiss you on the lips, swapping the spit and cum between you two.

He only had one question on his mind, and he asked it when you parted, “You still going to forget I exist?”

[kissmaybank]

PROFESSOR!RAFE CAMERON

professor!cameron who stammers over his words and can barely breathe in your presence. every time you sit in his class, in those tiny, tiny skirts, tits pressed together. he has to try not to get hard during his lectures.

professor!cameron never asks you to stay after class, but you do anyway because you know he cant resist you. looking at him as you bat your eyelashes, nails grazing his chest and your chest pressed flush against him and you tempt him into giving in. he gets beyond nervous, not confident enough to touch you until you grab his hands, placing them on your ass as you bite your bottom lip. "I don't bite professor...unless you want me to.."

professor!cameron who may or may not already have a girlfriend, and yet it didn't stop him from looking at you like he knows your cunt tastes sweet. going to his office hours for no good reason other than to keep him company, and looking at the small trinkets, and other shit occupying his office. your fingers grazing over a polaroid of him and his girlfriend, giving a small giggle. "cute photo, it's a shame you don't look at her how you look at me."

professor!cameron finally confessing that he wants you so desperately. dreaming of you at night, thinking of you as he strokes his cock in the shower. palms sweaty as you sit on his desk in front of him, computer and papers pushed aside as your legs swing. his voice shaky, mouth dry. "y-you're very uh...voluptuous." a giggle leaving your lips as you hop off the desk, dipping low to palm him through his slacks. "professor cameron, you callin' me sexy?" his gaze averting to your hand and his tongue darting to his bottom lip, glasses slipping to the tip of his nose as he tries to keep composure. "uhh...," a silent 'fuck' leaves his lips as you continue to palm him, "yeah, yeah I am."

professor!cameron being nervous as fuck the first time you suck his dick after confessing, struggling to maintain eye contact and beads of sweat falling off his forehead as you take him down your throat. the moment you pull up for air, your hands continuing to stroke him, all to be heard being the wet sounds of your saliva sticky on his cock and his heavy breathing. he continues to breathe heavy, head thrown back until your voice speaks syrupy sweet. "rafeyyyy, look at me." a whimper leaving his lips when he catches sight of your eyes staring back at him and your tongue swirling around the thick tip of him, pre-cum coating your tongue.

[inhogf]

Lee Byung Hun, your teacher.

more of teacher byung hun · contains: teacher x student, huge age gap: reader is in school, byung hun in mid 50s. smut, dry humping.

byung hun was never the type to want someone so young, no, never— that was until you came into the picture. the little glances he'd share with you in his classroom, your perfect body all dolled up in skimpy clothing just for him, he could tell you do it for him, how desperate you were for his attention. his eyes would be fixated on the gentle slopes of your waist, the curves of your ass and the plush of your thighs. he just wanted to devour you whole. keep you all to himself.

and you weren't oblivious to that. you would always feel his gaze lingering on your figure a bit longer than usual, heat pooling down your core as you squeezed your thighs together in attempts to find something to grind onto. he made you such a mess.

he wanted to keep things professional; keep his distance. but the way you'd look up at him with those fuck me eyes had him running into the staff bathroom stalls, unable to handle any more of the ache growing between his legs, beads of precum spilling out of his uncontrollably swollen tip before he even got to take his boxers off. he needed you. needed you to take his load out into. but he knew he couldn't make his move; poor little byung hun knows he'd get in so much trouble if he tried messing with you.

and he doesn't care.

because right now you were straddling his lap and the growing bulge you thought you were supposed to ignore, as he tutored you after keeping you back when school had ended. the school halls were empty, save for the faint echoes of laughter drifting in from outside. the room was locked, he made sure of that. he doesn't anyone walking in and seeing what he does to his pretty girl.

“such a dumb girl, hm?“ he'd make a remark, pointing to the big red C on your test papers. and all you could do was nod calculus was never your strong suit— but you were beginning to feel like mr. byung hun gave you a C just to keep you back in his classroom.

your breath hitched as he laid a big heavy hand on your thigh, the other held a pen fixing the mistakes on your test paper. you craned your neck back to look at him, faces so close you were practically breathing each other's faces in. he had a dumb smirk plastered on his face— one so subtle you weren't sure if he knew what he was doing right now. if he knew you, his student, was on his fuckin’ lap right now. what a whore.

he tilted his head, removing his hand from your thigh to take off his glasses before setting them on the desk, and clasping his hand on your thigh back again. this time, he'd rub small circles and grab small chunks of meat occasionally. poor you, you didn't even know what to do at that point— but you wanted it. you were down right pathetic for him.

without warning, he'd buck his hips up into the softness of your ass, prevailing in rubbing the growing boner just into the right spot. your breathing got faster, as you bit your now-bleeding bottom lip once again. you were—

“grind.“

and holy fuck. you were absolutely leaking after that. you were so, so, desperate, you started drawing circles into his lap with your hips without giving it much thought. he'd shut his eyes close, nipping at your neck as his free hand reaches around and clamps the base of your throat and pulls it back slightly; all whilst you two were going back and forth, taking turns grinding on each other.

and byung hun was so effing cute, he creamed his boxers before you guys could properly even start. you can't be mad at him, after all, he was your beloved teacher.

cc @inhogf dont steal

[chrissssssmut]

Karina winter yeji yuna school smut?

AFTER SCHOOL

Karina, Winter, Yeji and Yuna x Male Reader

I should’ve known something was off the moment Ms. Shin smiled at me during homeroom. That too-sweet kind of smile teachers use when they’re about to ruin your afternoon.

"You’ve been falling behind," she said, tapping her red pen against a stack of missed assignments. "So I’m assigning you to a group for academic support."

My stomach sank.

She continued, writing names at the top of my worksheet with smooth, deliberate strokes.

"Karina. Winter. Yeji. And Yuna. They'll… keep you on task."

I blinked. Thought she was joking. But when I looked over to the corner of the room, all four of them were staring at me—smiling.

Not the friendly kind of smile, either.

Fast forward to now. The final bell has rung. The classroom is empty. Door locked. Blinds down. Lights dim.

And I’m sitting at a desk, laptop in front of me, surrounded by four girls who look like they’re about to pounce.

Karina stands behind me with her arms crossed, eyes half-lidded. Winter leans against the chalkboard like she owns the place. Yeji is seated right on my desk, legs swinging lazily, skirt hiked a little too high. Yuna is in the corner by the windows, playing with the buttons of her blouse.

Winter speaks first. Her voice is soft, cool. Dangerous.

"You're gonna open that laptop," she says, slowly walking toward me. "You're gonna finish everything on that worksheet. And you're not leaving until it’s done."

I open my mouth to protest, but she smiles.

"Unless," she adds, "you need a different kind of motivation."

My throat dries. “Motivation?”

Karina leans down behind me. I feel her breath on my ear before I even hear her voice.

“We’re very… persuasive,” she whispers, fingers brushing my shoulders. “But you have to follow instructions. Exactly. No excuses.”

“Okay,” I mutter, voice shaky. “I’ll work.”

Yeji chuckles and crosses one leg over the other, leaning in until her face is inches from mine.

“You’re gonna be such a good boy, aren’t you?”

Her fingers hook around the loose knot of my school tie. She yanks it gently, pulling me forward until my nose nearly brushes the lace trim of her underwear.

“We’ll make it worth your while,” she says, lips curling into a wicked smirk.

Across the room, Yuna lets out a breathy laugh. Her blouse is halfway unbuttoned now, bare skin peeking through.

“I hope you weren’t planning on leaving early,” she says, tossing her bra onto my open notebook like it’s just another school supply. “Because we’re not stopping until we break you.”

My heart is thundering in my chest. I open the laptop with trembling hands.

Winter moves behind me, sliding her fingers up under my uniform shirt. Her nails rake gently over my ribs, sending a full-body shiver up my spine.

Karina kneels beside my chair, her hands already at my belt.

She looks up at me with calm, unreadable eyes. “Let us take care of the distractions,” she murmurs. “You just type.”

My pants slide down. My boxers go next.

I barely get to the first question on the worksheet before Yeji grabs my jaw and turns my face toward her inner thigh.

“Finish the first page,” she purrs. “You get a taste.”

Karina’s lips wrap around me under the desk. I almost fall off the chair.

She takes her time, tongue working in slow, torturous swirls, lips soft but firm. My hands twitch on the keyboard.

“Don’t stop typing,” Yuna says, hopping up to sit on the desk beside me. She grabs my wrist and pulls it under her skirt. “But keep these fingers busy too, yeah?”

She moans softly as my fingers slip into her, wet and tight and so very ready.

Winter presses her chest against my back, her breath hot on my neck. “I’m going to ride you soon,” she whispers. “But if you cum before we say so…”

She drags her tongue over the shell of my ear.

“…we’ll start everything over from the beginning.”

Karina moans around my cock, her head bobbing rhythmically. Every time I twitch, she just sucks harder, like she’s daring me to lose control. Like she wants to see me beg.

“Focus,” Yeji says, eyes flicking down to my screen. “Get to question five.”

I’m drenched in sweat. Muscles tense. My brain is short-circuiting from sensation overload. I don’t even remember what I’m typing.

Winter slides onto my lap, lifting her skirt. No panties.

She sinks down onto me in one smooth motion.

I bite down a scream.

“You like that?” she whispers, hips grinding slow and deep. “You’re doing so well… but we’re not even halfway done.”

Yuna leans forward, tongue trailing a wet stripe up my chest, giggling as she sucks one of my nipples between her lips. Her hand stays between her legs, grinding against my fingers like a girl possessed.

Yeji’s rocking against my thigh now, one hand tangled in my hair, the other squeezing her own breast beneath her uniform. She watches me like a predator, drinking in every twitch, every gasp, every helpless moan I make.

Karina’s still beside the chair, stroking me every time Winter lifts herself up. Her hand moves in sync with Winter’s rhythm. Precise. Lethal.

“You’re going to cum soon,” Karina whispers. “Aren’t you?”

I nod, frantically, stupidly. I can’t hold on.

“No,” Yeji snaps, grabbing my face. “You wait.”

Winter tightens around me, grinding harder, her eyes fluttering shut. “Almost there,” she groans. “Don’t you dare cum until the worksheet’s done.”

I’m dying.

Everything burns. Everything pulses.

Karina strokes harder. Yuna moans louder. Winter rides faster.

Then Karina leans in, lips brushing my ear.

“Last question,” she says, voice honey-sweet. “If you get it right…”

Winter kisses me, full and messy and possessive.

“…we’ll let you cum.”

I slam the final key.

Everything explodes.

Winter cries out, clenching tight. Yuna throws her head back, riding my fingers until her thighs shake. Yeji bites her lip, watching me with wild, hungry eyes as I finally let go.

I cum hard, body wracked with pleasure, every nerve on fire.

Karina strokes me through it, slow and loving, like she wants to milk every drop.

The classroom is filled with panting. Moans. The quiet hum of my laptop.

I’m ruined.

Shirt half-off. Tie gone. Skin marked with lipstick and scratches. My legs are jelly. Brain fried.

Yuna giggles, hopping off the desk and adjusting her skirt.

“You passed,” she says.

“Barely,” Yeji adds, licking her lips.

Winter pulls away from my lap and kisses my jaw, her eyes dark and gleaming. “Don’t fall behind again.”

Karina tucks my shirt back in gently, then kisses my forehead like I’m some kind of good boy she’s proud of.

“Or next time,” she murmurs, lips brushing mine, “we won’t be so gentle.”

The Next Day

I didn’t even argue this time when Ms. Shin told me I’d be finishing today’s work in the library.

She gave me the same knowing smile, the one that sent a shiver down my spine yesterday, and handed me a thick packet of revision problems.

“Quiet place. No distractions,” she said.

Right.

By now, I knew better than to think I’d be studying alone.

And sure enough, not ten minutes into flipping through the pages in one of the back rows—hidden between the history section and some dusty old encyclopedias—I heard soft footsteps. The rustle of skirts. Giggling.

I didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was.

“You really thought you’d get away from us?” Yeji’s voice came first, teasing and low. “That’s cute.”

I looked up just as the four of them stepped into view, uniforms still perfect, but expressions anything but innocent.

Winter shut the book in my hands with a little snap. “Did you miss us?”

Karina knelt beside me again, just like yesterday, but this time she didn’t say anything. Just stared at me with that serene, unreadable gaze, her hand already sliding up my thigh like it belonged there.

Yuna leaned against the bookshelf behind me, stretching her arms over her head like she didn’t care who saw. "Ms. Shin says you need to improve your focus,” she said, licking her lips. “So we’re here to help.”

I glanced around the library. There were a few other students up front, maybe two tables away. The librarian’s desk was clear.

This was insane.

But the heat in my gut didn’t care.

“Guys,” I whispered. “We’ll get caught—”

“We know,” Karina murmured, fingers teasing the waistband of my pants. “That’s what makes it fun.”

Yeji leaned down and dragged her nails down my arm. “You’re already hard. Don’t pretend you’re innocent.”

Winter smirked and pulled a chair across from me, spinning it so she straddled it backward, arms resting on the top. “Here’s the deal,” she said. “You solve five problems. For each correct answer, you get a reward.”

“And if you get one wrong…” Yuna grinned wickedly, fingers playing with the edge of her skirt, “We punish you. Quietly.”

Karina’s hand slipped into my pants, and I choked on my own breath.

I tried. I tried to focus.

The first question was something about historical treaties. I scribbled an answer, hands shaking.

Karina stroked me slowly, watching my every reaction like she was cataloguing them.

Winter got up and circled around to my side. She bent down, her lips brushing my ear.

“Correct,” she whispered. “So you get this—”

Her tongue flicked against my earlobe. Then her hand dipped between my legs, joining Karina’s, making me twitch violently in my seat.

I gritted my teeth, eyes squeezing shut.

"Focus," Yeji sang from behind her hand, pretending to read a book. "You're making faces. They’ll notice.”

I forced myself to the second problem. It was barely legible now.

Behind me, Yuna crouched and slid her hand under the back of my shirt, her nails scratching lightly down my spine.

“Wrong,” she whispered. “You mixed up the year.”

She reached around and grabbed me harshly, jerking me once, twice—just enough to make me see stars—then letting go.

“Bad boys don’t get to cum,” she hissed.

“Third question,” Karina said calmly. “If you get it right, maybe we’ll let you taste one of us.”

I nodded frantically and filled in the blank. Something about revolutions.

Winter peeked over my shoulder and smirked. “Close enough.”

Yeji pulled her chair closer and lifted one leg onto the table.

“No hands,” she whispered. “Just your mouth.”

I looked around—no one close.

Heart hammering, I leaned forward.

Yeji shivered when my tongue found her, legs trembling as she bit her fist to keep from moaning.

“You’re good at this,” she gasped. “Fuck—don’t stop—”

Karina gripped my chin and pulled me back.

“Fourth problem,” she said coolly. “Let’s see if your brain still works with your mouth busy.”

I barely read it. My hands were shaking. I circled an answer and prayed.

Winter checked it.

Then bent down, lifted her skirt, and sat on my lap, no underwear again.

“I’ll allow it,” she breathed, sinking down onto me.

I choked back a moan as her warmth enveloped me, and she immediately began grinding, slow and cruel and tight.

“Don’t. Make. A. Sound,” she hissed.

The table shifted slightly. Books wobbled.

Karina looked toward the front of the library.

“Shit,” she whispered. “Librarian’s coming.”

Yuna moved quickly, yanking a nearby blanket someone had left draped on the study chair and tossing it over my lap. Winter stayed perfectly still, biting her lip hard.

Yeji opened a book and leaned forward, pretending to read with exaggerated focus.

Karina sat back against the shelves, legs crossed, innocent as a nun.

The librarian’s heels clicked closer.

“Everything alright back here?” she asked.

I froze.

Winter didn’t. Her walls clenched.

“Just helping him study,” Karina said smoothly. “He’s working hard.”

The librarian hummed. “Good. Keep it down.”

As soon as she turned and walked off, Winter exhaled hard against my neck and began to ride me again, slower now, deliberately cruel.

“You’re not cumming until the last question’s done,” she whispered. “And we’re all satisfied.”

Yuna climbed onto the table and straddled my chest, pulling my face to her dripping heat. “Make up for question two,” she said.

Yeji stroked herself as she watched me tongue Yuna open, her moans muffled against her arm. Karina leaned down and whispered filth into my ear, her hands tugging and teasing me every time Winter lifted herself up.

“I’m close,” Winter gasped. “Hold on—don’t cum—”

“I’m—shit—I’m gonna—” I couldn’t hold it.

Karina’s nails dug into my thigh.

“Don’t. You. Dare.”

Then everything blurred—Yuna came with a high, desperate whimper, Yeji followed moments after with a strangled moan, and Winter finally gasped my name as she pulsed around me, trembling.

Only then did Karina pull my face to hers and kiss me like she owned me.

“You did better today,” she said, stroking me slowly. “We’re proud.”

Winter slid off, carefully pulling the blanket back over my lap.

I was soaked. Spent. Fucked half-senseless.

Karina whispered, “You can finish now,” and stroked me just right.

I came so hard I almost saw white.

We cleaned up quietly—well, they did. I could barely move.

Karina kissed my temple.

Yeji fixed my tie.

Yuna tucked the worksheet into my bag.

Winter licked her fingers clean and winked. “Same time tomorrow?”

I nodded, dazed.

“Good,” Karina said softly. “Because next time…”

She leaned in, lips brushing mine.

“…we’re not letting you leave at all.”

It had been one day since the library.

One day since Karina whispered filth in my ear while riding me behind a bookshelf. One day since Winter, Yeji, and Yuna took turns teasing me to the edge with eyes locked on the door, waiting to see if someone—anyone—would walk in and catch us.

No one did.

But someone noticed.

“Come see me after class,” Ms. Shin said, sliding a post-it on my desk as she walked by.

No explanation. No expression. Just the quiet weight of her words and the way her eyes lingered on me… like she was studying a lie.

Karina leaned over from behind me. “She called you?”

I nodded.

“She knows,” Yeji said from the next desk, not even bothering to whisper.

“She suspects,” Winter corrected, looking too calm. “There’s a difference.”

Yuna, chewing on the tip of her pen, smiled lazily. “So what? She can’t prove anything.”

Karina’s fingers trailed up the back of my neck. “She doesn’t have to prove it. She just has to separate us.”

The idea made my stomach twist.

After the bell, I made my way to Ms. Shin’s office, heart pounding like a drumline. Her door was cracked open.

“Close it,” she said without turning around.

I obeyed.

She didn’t look at me at first. Just tapped her pen against a sheet of paper.

“I’ve taught here for eight years,” she said finally. “And I’ve never had a group as... close-knit as yours.”

I stayed silent.

“The four of them cling to you like satellites. Always orbiting. Always watching. And you… you’ve changed.”

“I—”

“Don’t lie to me,” she said sharply, cutting me off. “You’re distracted. Your posture, your eyes. You flinch when someone touches your shoulder. And your test scores are slipping.”

I clenched my fists.

“If something’s happening between you and those girls—something inappropriate—you need to tell me now.”

She turned toward me, eyes sharp and concerned.

“I can help you. I can reassign you. I can call your parents if you're too scared to say anything.”

“I’m not scared,” I said, too quickly.

“So there is something,” she murmured.

Shit.

I backpedaled fast. “No. I just meant—I don’t need help. There’s nothing going on.”

Ms. Shin leaned back slowly, searching my face.

“You’re a smart boy,” she said. “But you’re not a good liar.”

The room felt like it was shrinking.

“If I find out they’ve coerced you—”

“They didn’t,” I snapped.

That caught her off guard.

“They didn’t coerce me. It’s not… like that.”

“So what is it, then?” she asked.

I couldn’t answer. Because the truth was messier than anything she was imagining.

Karina walking into my room without knocking. Winter crawling into my lap with a hungry look. Yeji pinning me to a wall during break. Yuna whispering threats into my ear with a smile on her lips and her hand down my pants.

It wasn’t coercion.

It was obsession.

And it was mutual.

“I just want to focus on school,” I said, the lie catching in my throat. “That’s all.”

Ms. Shin looked unconvinced.

“You’ll work with me from now on,” she said. “No more group projects. No more ‘study sessions.’ You stay after school, here, under my supervision.”

“I—”

“That’s final.”

I left the office feeling like I’d been sentenced.

They were waiting.

Outside the classroom. All four of them.

Karina leaned against the wall, arms crossed, face unreadable.

Winter looked like she already knew what happened.

Yeji tilted her head. “How bad?”

“She’s pulling me from the group,” I muttered.

Yuna blinked. “She what?”

“She wants me working under her from now on.”

Karina stepped forward. “She’s trying to isolate you.”

Winter grabbed my hand. “That’s not going to happen.”

Yeji glanced down the hallway. “Where is she now?”

“She’s still in her office,” I said. “Planning whatever ‘private sessions’ she has in mind.”

Yuna smiled, slow and feral. “So we beat her to it.”

“What?”

Karina took my wrist, firm and final. “Storage room. Now.”

The door clicked shut behind us.

No light. Just shadows and breath.

Winter pinned me against the shelf first. “She wants to protect you?”

Yeji’s hands slid under my shirt. “She wants to own you.”

Karina was unbuttoning my pants already. “But she’s too late.”

Yuna pulled her skirt up. “We claimed you first.”

The girls didn’t take turns this time. They swarmed.

Hands everywhere—Karina’s mouth on my neck, Winter’s fingers around my length, Yeji licking up my chest, Yuna grinding on my thigh.

I tried to speak. Couldn’t.

“You don’t want her,” Winter whispered against my ear. “You want this.”

“You want us,” Karina hissed, sinking down onto me before I could even gasp. “Say it.”

“I want you,” I groaned, biting my lip to muffle it.

Karina rode me hard, fast, one hand clamped over my mouth while Yeji held my hips still. Winter and Yuna knelt below, licking and moaning, their tongues trailing over everything Karina left exposed.

“I’ll go to her office,” Yuna whispered between licks. “I’ll tell her to back off.”

Karina moaned. “If she doesn’t... we’ll make her.”

The climax hit hard and fast, Karina milking me dry while the other girls moaned, whispering about how they’d keep me hidden forever if they had to.

Afterward, they dressed me, button by button, fixing my tie like nothing had happened.

“She’s watching,” Karina said. “We know.”

Winter cupped my cheek. “She’ll try to separate us.”

Yuna kissed me softly. “Let her try.”

Yeji leaned close, voice like velvet. “If she takes you… we’ll take you back.”

[strawberry-bubblef]

Twst those you got overblot what should the reaction be if they hurt y/n pretty badly

Like example ( malleus but then to sleep for a very long time not wanted them to leave or like that Leon accidentally made so they lost an arm in his overblot?)

Ob student unintentionally hurting their s/o

Part 2 :OB students having nightmares of themselves after hurting their s/o

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle had always believed in control. He lived by rules, by discipline, by order. But during his overblot, there had been nothing but rage,wild, unrestrained, and merciless.

And you had been caught in it.

The moment he woke up, his breath was uneven, his chest tight. The weight of his own magic’s backlash was suffocating, but none of it compared to the way his heart stopped when he turned his head.

And saw you.

Your body lay still, surrounded by students tending to you, but his eyes could only focus on one thing.

Your arm.

Or rather, the empty space where your arm should have been.

His stomach twisted violently, nausea clawing up his throat.

No.

No, no, no.

This couldn’t be real. This had to be some kind of nightmare, a cruel illusion brought on by his exhaustion.

But the blood staining the ground was real. The pain in your eyes was real. And the devastating loss was very, very real.

Something inside Riddle shattered.

Tears welled up instantly, spilling down his face before he could even think to stop them. His breaths came in short, broken gasps as he scrambled forward on shaky limbs, his hands reaching out before stopping abruptly.

He had no right to touch you.

His magic,his own hands,had done this to you.

"Y/N—" His voice cracked, his throat tightening as the words became stuck. "I—I didn’t—"

Your eyes fluttered open at his voice, and even in agony, you managed to give him a tired smile. "Riddle…"

But that only made it worse.

You should be furious. You should hate him. You should scream at him, tell him to stay away, curse him for what he had taken from you.

Instead, you still looked at him like he was the same Riddle you had always known.

The same Riddle who had just ruined your future in a fit of unhinged wrath.

A raw, gut-wrenching sob tore from his throat as he collapsed beside you, his body trembling violently. His tears fell freely now, staining his uniform as he gripped his head, gasping between hiccupped cries.

"I’m sorry,I’m so sorry," he choked out. "I—how could I—? You—your arm—I—!"

The words wouldn't form. Nothing could possibly express the horror, the unbearable weight of what he had done.

"I didn’t mean to—I never wanted—!" He sobbed like a child, gasping for air, voice breaking over and over. "Please—please forgive me—!"

He was spiraling. He knew he was spiraling, but there was no stopping it. His magic had never failed him before, but now, it had cost you something irreplaceable.

And all he could do was weep.

Even after you were taken away for treatment, Riddle remained on the ground, curled in on himself as the tears continued to fall, his body wracked with uncontrollable grief.

For days, he could barely function. He would bring you everything you needed, yet he never had the courage to truly face you. He couldn’t look at the place where your arm had once been without feeling like the air was being sucked out of his lungs.

Even as you reassured him, even as you smiled and told him that you would find a way to move forward, Riddle couldn’t forgive himself.

And he never would.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona had never been one to sugarcoat things. Life was unfair, people were weak, and the strong took what they wanted. That was how the world worked.

But nothing had prepared him for this.

He could still remember the sheer force of his magic, the way the sandstorm had swallowed everything, the deafening roar of destruction.

And you

You had been caught in it.

He hadn’t seen it happen. He didn’t remember the exact moment when his magic had reached you. But the scent of blood in the air was unmistakable.

And the moment he opened his eyes, his world stopped.

You were on the ground, injured, battered and missing an arm.

Your dominant arm, the one you always used to pull him along when he was too lazy to move, the one that had rested so casually on his shoulder as you teased him, the one that had traced gentle patterns into his skin during quiet moments together.

Gone.

His heartbeat thundered in his ears, drowning out everything else.

His fingers dug into his palms, his teeth clenched so hard his jaw ached. His body trembled not from exhaustion, not from magic drain, but from the sheer force of the emotions crashing down on him like a tidal wave.

This couldn’t be real.

There was no way.

But the scent of blood told him otherwise.

And then, you opened your eyes.

“…Leona?”

Your voice was weak, but still there, still reaching for him like you always did.

His breath hitched. His hands clenched tighter, his nails drawing blood from his own skin.

You should be yelling at him. You should be cursing him, demanding to know why he let this happen, why he wasn’t strong enough to protect you from himself.

But instead, you were looking at him with tired eyes, like you were more worried about him than yourself.

That broke something inside him.

His knees hit the ground beside you, his tail low, ears flattened. His hands hovered over you, but he didn’t dare touch. He didn’t deserve to.

“…Dammit,” he muttered, voice hoarse. He exhaled sharply through his nose, trying,failing to keep his emotions in check.

He had never cared about rules or expectations. But this? This was something that should never have happened.

He had hurt you.

He had taken something from you.

And there was no way to fix it.

“Stupid…” His voice wavered. His throat felt tight, dry. He squeezed his eyes shut, inhaling shakily. “Why’d you get in the way, huh? What were you thinkin’?”

You let out a tired chuckle. “Didn’t really… have time to think.”

His ears twitched at your response, but there was no amusement in his expression. His hands curled into fists. His chest ached in a way he couldn’t describe.

He had always been a realist. The world was cruel, life was unfair.

But for the first time, he wanted to deny reality.

To pretend that none of this had happened.

To believe that when he woke up tomorrow, you’d still have both arms, that this was all just some horrible nightmare.

But it wasn’t.

And he knew that no matter what he did from this point forward, he would never,never,be able to undo this mistake.

Even after you were taken for treatment, he didn’t leave your side. He didn’t sleep, barely ate. He just sat there, staring at your unconscious form, ears low, tail still, expression unreadable.He did even participated to to the spelldrive tournament.

But deep down, he knew.

No matter how much time passed, no matter how much you forgave him.

Leona Kingscholar would never forgive himself.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul had spent years perfecting his image,charming, intelligent, always in control. No one could touch him, no one could hurt him, and most importantly, no one could ever see him as weak again.

But now?

Now, he was staring at you, his beloved, as you lay unconscious in the infirmary.

And he had never felt weaker in his entire life.

His hands trembled, gripping his arms so tightly his nails nearly broke skin. His breath came in uneven gasps, his chest rising and falling far too quickly, like he was on the verge of drowning all over again.

Because you were hurt.

Because of him.

He had lost control during his overblot. The memories of it were a blur of suffocating ink, the crushing weight of his own insecurities manifesting in monstrous form. He had wanted power,more power, enough to make sure no one could ever trample him underfoot again.

And in that desperate grasp for control, he had lost the most precious thing in his life.

Your leg was gone.

You had saved him. He didn’t know how,didn’t know when you had gotten close enough to reach him, to try and pull him back from the brink.

But his ink had swallowed you whole.

And when the storm cleared, when his world came crashing back into sharp, unbearable clarity, he had seen you unconscious and bleeding.

Less than whole.

A choked, bitter laugh bubbled up in his throat, but it never made it past his lips.

This was what he had always feared, wasn’t it? Losing control, being seen as the monster he truly was.

And now you knew.

Now, there was no illusion left to protect him.

He reached for you hesitantly, his fingers barely brushing against your arm before he pulled back. He had no right to touch you.

“…You should hate me.” His voice cracked, barely a whisper.

He expected you to wake up and recoil from him. To push him away, to yell, to curse him for what he had taken from you.

And you would be right to do so.

But when your eyelids fluttered open, the first thing you did

Was smile at him.

“…Hey, Azul.” Your voice was hoarse, weak. “You look terrible.”

His breath hitched.

You should be screaming at him, demanding to know why, demanding answers he couldn’t give.

Instead, you were worried about him.

His hands clenched into fists, nails digging into his palm as his head bowed.

“…You’re a fool.” His voice wavered. “An absolute fool. Why did you—”

You lifted a trembling hand and placed it over his.

Azul flinched, his entire body tensing. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve your warmth, your touch, your kindness.

But you still gave it to him anyway.

“Because you needed someone,” you murmured, your fingers weak against his. “And I… I needed you too.”

He bit his lip hard, swallowing down the overwhelming emotions threatening to spill over.

He wanted to say he was sorry, but words would never be enough.

He wanted to promise he’d fix this, but no matter how powerful he was, no contract in the world could return what was lost.

So instead, all he could do was hold your hand, press his forehead against it, and try not to let the tears slip past his lashes.

And when you squeezed his fingers ever so gently, offering him comfort when it should be the other way around.

He broke.

Jamil Viper

Jamil had spent his entire life perfecting the art of control.

Control over his emotions. Control over his actions. Control over every single aspect of himself so that no one,not Kalim, not his family, not the world could ever dictate his fate.

But now?

Now, he was staring at the consequence of his failure.

And it was unbearable.

You lay on the infirmary bed, unconscious, your breathing shallow. Bandages wrapped tightly around your leg, but no amount of magic could change the fact that below the knee—

There was nothing left.

His grip tightened around the chair he sat on, fingers trembling.

How had it come to this?

He knew exactly how.

The moment he had lost himself to his overblot, the moment years of frustration and anger had finally erupted into something monstrous,he had wanted power. No, he had craved it, needed it more than anything.

And in his desperate grasp for freedom, he had taken yours away.

He could still remember it. The image was burned into his mind like a cursed brand.

He hadn’t even realized what had happened until the rage left his body, until the darkness cleared, and he saw you lying there.

He thought he had known pain.

But nothing, nothing in his life had ever hurt like this.

Jamil clenched his jaw, forcing his hands to remain still as he sat beside you, watching your every breath, as if afraid you would disappear entirely if he looked away.

What could he even say to you when you woke up?

“Sorry” wasn’t enough.

Nothing would ever be enough.

A deep, suffocating silence filled the air, broken only by the faint rustling of the sheets as you stirred.

His breath caught.

Your eyelashes fluttered, your face scrunching slightly before your eyes slowly opened.

The moment your gaze met his, something in him nearly shattered.

“…Jamil?” Your voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.

He swallowed hard.

He should leave.

He should stand up and walk out of this room before you had the chance to say anything,before he saw the realization dawn in your eyes, before you understood exactly what he had done to you.

But he couldn’t move.

“…You should hate me.” The words felt heavy, choked, forced through gritted teeth.

You blinked at him, still groggy from exhaustion.

Then, your gaze shifted downward, toward your foot.Well towards your bandaged ankle, since you technically no longer had a left foot.

Jamil felt himself go rigid, every muscle in his body locking up as he watched the understanding dawn in your expression.

Your lips parted, your breathing uneven.

And then, you laughed.

It was small, weak, almost bitter, but it wasn’t the reaction he had expected.

“…You always did run me ragged,” you murmured, voice tinged with dry amusement.

Jamil stiffened. “Don’t joke about this.”

You turned your head to look at him fully, your expression soft despite the exhaustion weighing down your body. “Are you going to keep blaming yourself forever?”

His fists clenched in his lap.

“Yes.”

You sighed. “Then I guess I’ll just have to wait until you forgive yourself.”

His breath hitched.

How could you say that? How could you be so calm, so accepting, after what he had done?

He dropped his head into his hands, his body shaking.

“I don’t deserve that,” he muttered.

He felt a weak, warm touch brush against his wrist.

“…Then earn it,” you whispered.

Jamil inhaled sharply, eyes stinging, throat burning.

Earn it.

Even after everything, you still believed in him.

His fingers curled around your hand, gripping it tightly.

He didn’t deserve you.

But he would spend every day proving that he did.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil had always prided himself on his control. His grace. His ability to shape perfection with his own hands.

And yet

This was something he could never fix.

He sat frozen beside your hospital bed, the soft glow of the infirmary lights casting eerie shadows across your bandaged face.

The damage had been irreversible.

The overblot had been blinding,literally. In his descent into madness, in his obsession with beauty, in his desperate need to correct every single flaw,his magic had surged. The explosion had shattered mirrors, the shards cutting through everything in their path.

Including you.

When he had finally awakened from the nightmare, the first thing he saw was you, lying motionless on the debris of the stage of the SDC surrounded by some NRC students.Bblood streaking down your face.

And when you opened your eyes, they were..

Gone.

A horrible, cruel irony.

He, who had always been so fixated on appearances, had taken something irreplaceable from the person he loved most.

His hands trembled where they rested on his lap, clenched so tightly that his nails dug into his palms.

Vil Schoenheit did not cry.

He did not break.

But now, with you lying there,his hands tainted with something that could never be undone.

He felt as if he had shattered completely.

The sound of shifting sheets made him tense.

Slowly, hesitantly, your good eye fluttered open.

Vil held his breath.

“…Vil?”

It was soft, weak, but unmistakably you.

He exhaled shakily, willing himself to keep his composure.

“You’re awake.”

Your brows furrowed slightly, and for a brief moment, he could see the confusion in your face as you adjusted to the dim light.

Then, your expression changed.

Your fingers ghosted over the bandages on your face.

A pause.

“…I can’t see,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

Vil’s chest tightened, the weight of his guilt pressing down so heavily he could barely breathe.

“I know.”

Silence.

You didn’t say anything, didn’t cry, didn’t scream like he had expected. Instead, you simply let out a breath,a tired, resigned thing and turned your head slightly toward him.

“Are you okay?”

His lips parted, eyes widening in stunned disbelief.

“…Am I—” His voice caught in his throat, emotions threatening to spill over. “You’re the one lying in a hospital bed, unable to see, and you’re asking me if I’m okay?”

You gave a small, weary smile. “Yeah.”

Something in him cracked.

For the first time in years, Vil let himself break.

His hands reached for yours, gripping them tightly, as if trying to ground himself,to prove to himself that you were still here. That despite everything, you hadn’t disappeared from his life completely.

“…I am not okay.” His voice was hoarse, raw, filled with something too deep to name. “I will never be okay.”

Not after this.

Not after knowing that he was the one who did this to you.

You squeezed his hand, and his breath hitched.

“…Then we’ll work on it together,” you said softly.

Vil lowered his head, pressing his forehead against your fingers.

There were no words that could ever make this right.

But if you were willing to stay,if you were willing to give him even the smallest chance.

He would spend the rest of his life making sure you never regretted it.

Idia Shroud

Idia always thought of himself as a coward.

He avoided conflict. He hid behind screens and firewalls, behind the cold comfort of technology where nothing could touch him.

But in the end, he had still managed to hurt you.

No,he had ruined you.

The reality of it didn’t set in until he saw your hand.

Your dominant hand.

Four fingers,gone.

He stood in the medical ward of Styx, his stomach churning violently as he stared at the bandages wrapped tightly around what remained of your hand.

It was his fault.

His overblot had been a nightmare of control, desperation, and raw, unchecked power.And in the chaos,when you had reached out for him, trying to pull him back one of the .

One of his spells had unfortunately touched you

A single, merciless strike.

It had been fast. Too fast.

The worst part?

He hadn’t even realized it happened until after he woke up.

Until he saw the blood.

Idia wanted to run.

He wanted to log out of reality and bury himself in the deepest depths of cyberspace, where he wouldn’t have to face the fact that he,he had caused this.

But he didn’t.

Because this wasn’t a game.

He had no save points. No reset button. No way to undo what he had done.

So instead, he stood there, his hands shaking, his throat dry, and his heart threatening to beat out of his chest.

“…You don’t have to stay,” your voice was quiet, strained. It was the first thing you had said to him since you woke up. “If it’s too much.”

Idia flinched as if burned.

Too much?

Was this your way of letting him off the hook? Giving him an easy way out?

He felt sick.

How could you even think that he would leave you after this?

His feet moved before his mind could catch up, closing the distance between you in seconds. He dropped to his knees beside your bed, his blue hair shadowing his face as he reached out,hesitated then finally, gently, took your injured hand in his.

His fingers barely ghosted over the bandages, as if afraid he would hurt you even more.

“…I don’t want to go.” His voice cracked, barely above a whisper. “I can’t go.”

You stared at him, your expression unreadable.

For a long moment, there was silence.

Then, slowly, you turned your palm upward, allowing his trembling hands to hold yours completely.

“You’re shaking,” you murmured.

He let out a weak, breathy laugh, his throat tightening.

“Yeah,” he choked out. “I’m freaking terrified.”

Terrified that you’d hate him.

Terrified that you’d never forgive him.

Terrified that he had taken something from you that could never, ever be replaced.

“…It’s going to be okay, Idia.”

How could you say that?

How could you still be so calm? So steady?

Tears welled up in his yellow eyes, slipping down his pale cheeks as he gripped your hand tighter.

“I don’t deserve that,” he whispered brokenly.

You smiled faintly. “Too bad.”

Idia let out a soft, shaky laugh, his head lowering as he pressed his forehead to your hand.

No.

He didn’t deserve you.

But he would spend the rest of his life making sure you never regretted keeping him by your side.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus had never meant to hurt you.

His overblot had consumed him,his fear of being left alone, his desperation to keep you by his side. And in his moment of madness, his magic had surged beyond his control.

A sleeping curse.

A slumber so deep that no force in the world could break it, except time itself.

At first, he had raged against it, pouring through ancient texts, consulting the wisest fae and scholars. But the truth was cruel,this was his own magic, raw and instinctual, fueled by his deepest desires. There was no counterspell.

Only patience.

And so, Malleus waited.

Centuries passed.

But he never left you.

In a quiet, secluded castle untouched by time, he watched over you, speaking to you as if you would wake any moment. He never let dust settle upon your resting place, never let the warmth of his love fade.

And then, one day

Your fingers twitched.

It was so small, so fragile, but Malleus had been watching for so long that he noticed it immediately.

His breath hitched.

Then,your eyelashes fluttered.

And finally,

Your eyes opened.

The world was blurry, but the first thing you saw was him, hovering over you, golden eyes wide with something indescribable.

“…Malleus?” Your voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.

His hands trembled as he reached out, almost afraid to touch you, as if you would disappear like a dream.

“Beloved…” His voice broke. “You are awake.”

You blinked, disoriented, trying to understand why his expression was so pained, why he looked as if he had been crying for years.

And then it came back to you

The storm. The darkness. The raw magic that had swept you away.

Realization dawned, and Malleus flinched at the way your lips parted in shock.

“…How long?” You asked, already knowing the answer wouldn’t be kind.

Malleus closed his eyes, exhaling a breath as if it carried centuries of grief.

“Too long,” he whispered. “But I am here. I have always been here.”

Your heart ached not just for yourself, but for him. For the time he had lost, for the weight he had carried.

Slowly, you reached out, placing your hand over his. He stiffened at the warmth,real and present, not a memory or a wish.

“…Then let’s not waste another moment,” you murmured.

Malleus let out a shaky laugh, something between relief and disbelief, before pulling you into his embrace.

For the first time in centuries, his world felt whole again.

And this time, he would never let you go.

English is not my first language !

[snowsinterlude]

need someone older.

(teacher!coriolanus × student!reader.)

summary: a teacher can do a lot in private lessons.

c.w: reader is 19 for repeating a year, age gap (coryo's 29), fingering, tummy bulge, heavy smut, edging (f. recieving), overstimulation, stuffed panties, mild public sex, petnames (coryo calls reader bunny, pet, good girl.), reader thinks coryo is married so . cheating implications, marriage proposal

being a dumb girl was something you tried your best to do ever since you repeated the first year of high school, watching all your friends graduating before you was something you weren't proud about- not for them, but for you. you were supposed to be by their side.

thankfully, you had your professor, coriolanus snow. god. he was the only reason for you to pay attention to class (or at least try to), you were hungry for his approval. for you to be called a "good girl", and be said that you've done well in your tests? yeah, you were willing to do anything for that.

when he offered you private classes, you said yeah without even thinking much. you needed to learn, and spending more time with him was something you craved for. the ring on his finger? fuck it. you wanted it. you deserved it. more than his wife – if he had one.

you've been day dreaming about it constantly, eyes always searching for his on every class you had with him, and he would keep that smile painted on his face, not wanting anyone to think you were the reason for him to be smiling, even if you were, the didn't need to know about it.

"bunny," he voiced, leaning on your desk and taking advantage of the fact that you both were on the library, every student on the school had gone home and the teachers had gathered to go to a nearby bar. "stop looking at my dick now, will we?" he said, chuckling at you.

"huh?" you asked, finally waking to your reality.

"you need to learn that if you don't want to repeat a grade again." he said, sitting by your side, his hand holding your thigh. "you don't want to repeat now, do you?" you shaked your head negatively, and he loved seeing you like that, shy as a kitten even if you usually had his dick on your mouth when that used to happen. "c'mon, don't look at me like that. we have to put these things on your brain if you want to graduate already." he said.

his fingers slowly travelled all the way up on your panties, finding a small damp on the fabric, he looked at you with his usual smirk, his pupils blown already from everything he was about to do to you.

and now you looked like a mess. hands gripping on the library desk as your legs trembled with the aftermath of every time you almost came. you counted six till now, crying from how good it felt having him behind you, his fingers thrusting lewdly into your cunt.

"c-coryo- t-teacher, please. please stop it, i have to cum- i can't hold it in anymore!" you begged, clenching as his fingers rubbed deliciously on your clit after thrusting so many times inside you.

"well, it's not my fault, pet. you're the one getting your questions wrong." he said, pulling his dick to tease the core of your pussy, your cries only making him feel and making his ego bigger. "tell me, baby, how do you want it?"

"q-quick, pleease! if it get slower i-i think i'll die!" you said, legs spread as your skirt revealed a small part of your ass.

"oh, c'mon, i'm sure you can take it, baby" he purred in your ear, the tip of his cock teasing your pussy and slapping your clit slightly, making your body jolt slightly. you bend over, your elbows being now your main support at that table.

"please, teacher..!" you begged. but he didn’t even bat an eye to your cries, slowly sliding his dick inside you, and fuck, you both fucked on wednesday, how come he always seems to stretch you up so good? the pace he choose to torture you with was so slow, making sure you felt every inch of his dick inside you, stretching you, making you his. "please, don't do that to me. j-just ask something easier!" you cried.

"easier? okay... let's see" his hips bucked slowly into yours, your pussy gushing around him as if your own body needed that- as if he was the hair you breathed for. "what's your age, babe?" he asked, a playful tone being cast as his free hand massaged your boob, pinching on your nipple and freeing both your boobs from it's cage.

"n-nineteen." you said, and he laughed again as he said: "good girl, you're right.", his hips giving you a powerful thrust that made you cum with only that, making you cry from your own humiliation.

"ah, bunny, don't tell me you came already only with that." he said, joking with your face as you cried.

"i'm sorry- too good. i-it was too deep." he laughed, pulling back and thrusting deeper again, this time, you made sure not to cum again, edging yourself as he changed your position to put your leg over his broad shoulder, his dick making a bulge appear at your tummy. he loved that view- much more than he loved you.

"look at you, taking me so well. how does it feel, baby? use one of the words we learned at the literature class," he grunted your tightness coating his dick with your own juices, "use them, even if it's just two, and i'll let you cum."

"tortuous," you begin, crying from how good it felt, from how dumb you were getting. "spiralling, it's twirling my insides!" you cried. and he smilled, kissing and licking your tears before placing the most gentle kiss on your lips, pouding faster into you as you closed your eyes shut, moaning and grunting from all the pleasure- and yet you tried your best to avoid moaning only to hear his moans and the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh.

"good girl." he said, his hands holding your hips as he fucked you. it felt truly out of your world experience. his phone ringed just at the right moment he hit your cervix. "t-teacher, your phone- it can be your wife." you said, earning a frown from him as he turned the phone off.

"wife? baby, i'm single." he said, chuckling at you. "you've been walking around school with my cum stuffed in your panties even thought you thought i was married?" he pounded into you with a more quicken pace. "god, what a dirty girl you are. fucking around with married teachers." he teased you.

you felt a heat on your cheeks that you never felt before. god, how much would you end up humiliating yourself? "b-but, fuck! y-your ring-"

he showed you the ring. taking it off his finger with his mouth and sticking his tongue to you, an invitation for you to take the ring.

"keep it." he said once you took the ring

"but- s-sir, i-"

"mm, bunny, i'm a faithful man." he said. "and right now, i'm faithful to you." he said. you squirmed deliciously at the feeling of his cock filling you up again, his tip on your cervix as you came again, and soon enough, he came too.

he helped you get dressed into your panties again and straightned your clothes, a cast kiss on your lips before he smiled sweetly at you, putting the ring on your middle finger.

"i hope you know what that means."

"i-i do." you said, for both questions heavily implied in that context.

"great. then make sure to graduate, bunny." he smiled. "i'm sure the honeymoon will be great."

[mytherapyisreading14]

Drunk Confessions

Summary: You got drunk during a night out with your best friend and accidentally send your Professor a photo of you in lingerie. Now you try to avoid him, which is not really working.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Category: Smut (18+ MDNI)

Warnings: alcohol consumption, dirty talk, dom!spencer, semi-public sex, hair pulling, thigh riding, spanking, fingering, praise kink, multiple orgasms, oral sex (kinda, he comes in her mouth)

Word Count: 4,6k

Author’s Note: My last posts got so many likes, I didn’t expect that at all, thank you sm!! <3

Your alarm goes off - 8:30am. You groan. Your head is pounding and the sun shining into your room is just way too bright. Your stomach turns and you close your eyes to escape the wave of nausea. You slowly sit up and search for your phone on the nightstand. It feels like your head is going to explode. You reach out and unlock the screen, turning your alarm off.

It's way too early. And you drunk way too much last night. It was a chaotic but nice yesterday, a night full of laughter, way too much alcohol and karaoke. Your best friend celebrated her birthday and you promised to go to your favorite bar with her. You have to smile when you think back to the night and start checking your messages. You see that she already texted you this morning to find out how you are doing.

How are you?

I have the worst headache after last night

It was fun though, wanna go again tonight?

Just kidding, I feel like I need a week to recover from this

You can’t help but laugh and answer her quickly. You are about to put your phone away to finally get ready when a new chat catches your eye. You freeze in shock. It’s your Professors name. The one you’ve been crushing on since you saw him for the very first time.

Back when you found out that you were getting a new professor, you didn't expect much, a lecture like any other with someone who was only concerned with reciting his material. But then he entered. He came through the door and for a moment it seemed as if time stood still. The room, which had just been immersed in the murmur of conversation, suddenly became silent.

He was tall - taller than you expected and his presence filled the room in a way that you couldn't put into words. He wore a simple but elegant suit that somehow effortlessly fit him perfectly. His hair was a little longer, curly and fell slightly over his forehead. And then he looked up. His big, brown eyes met yours and in a split second everything became clear to you. You immediately knew you wanted, needed, this man.

Now you stare at the chat in complete horror. He recently gave you his number for a project. That's how this whole texting thing could even happen. Your heart is pounding in your chest. Obviously you can't remember texting him. You were so drunk yesterday that you can't even remember how you got home.

You open the chat - and your heart stops for a moment. It wasn't just a message that you sent him. It was a photo. Of you, in lingerie. It’s one of your favorite sets, you got it a couple of weeks ago. "I wore this for you today, Professor. Do you like it?” You wrote in addition to the photo.

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. You just stare at the screen, the picture of you that you should never, ever, ever have sent. And the worst part: He read it. But didn't reply. Confusion and panic spreads through you. You jump out of bed, your feet barely finding purchase on the floor, and your heart keeps racing. You try to think clearly, but your thoughts are a complete mess.

You reach for your phone again and frantically tap on the chat with your best friend, but you pause and call her instead. "Hello?" Her voice still sounds sleepy and hungover. “Oh my God, I need your help!" you gasp and immediately start telling her everything.

The line is silent, then you hear a short laugh. "Wait a minute... what? You did that?" You close your eyes and search for the right words. But before you can say anything, it hits you like a blow. You also have a lecture with him today.

"I’m not coming today," you tell her. “You can't just cancel!" she says immediately, and you hear her getting herself settled in her bed. Her voice sounds determined, but also worried. "You know how it is, our seminar today. We can't miss it. We said that celebrating wouldn't stop us," she says. "Celebrating isn't what would stop me either. Seeing him definitely is," you say and lean back with a groan.

You close your eyes and sink even deeper into the pillows. Your stomach clenches when you think about it. She’s right, you really have to go today. But the text, the picture that you sent him - what if he wants to talk to you about it? Or worse, he reports the whole thing?

"I can't just sit in front of him today and pretend that everything is normal. I sent him a picture of me in lingerie... I can't face him. It's just... it's just too much!" There is silence on the other end of the line for a moment. She still hasn't said anything, and you know she's thinking. Then you hear her take a deep breath.

“Okay, the thing with the picture, that's really... a little crazy. But hey, you can skip the lecture. Just disappear after the seminar and then hide in your apartment. Or you can go and hope that when you run into him, he'll do completely different things after you seeing this photo. I bet you looked hot, was it the new set you recently bought?” she asks and you can hear her grin even though you're on the phone.

Obviously she knows about your crush on your professor. You couldn’t stop talking about him after your first lecture and she took every opportunity to tease you about it. You look at your phone as if it were the only thing that could help you think clearly. Of course she's right. You have to go to your seminar. And you can really skip his lecture. Still, the idea that he might be thinking about it makes your heart beat faster and not just in excitement.

“You're right, I... okay, I'll come," You say after a short pause, but the thought of maybe running into him still makes you nervous. “You'll see, it won't be as bad as you think. You'll get through the seminar, it's only an hour. And then we'll be out and we can take our time for everything else. And you'll just avoid your favorite professor today," she continues to teases.

“Today? More like forever," you mutter and finally get up, even though the thought of getting out of bed still paralyzes you. “See you soon then. I'll shower and get dressed now, then I'll come. Let’s meet outside the building, okay?" you ask. "Sure!" she calls out happily. "See you soon and don’t forget to wear another fancy set for your professor today. Just in case you run into him,” she jokes.

After you hang up you put the phone on the pillow and stand there for a moment, your legs heavy, your head still about to explode. But then you take a deep breath. It'll be fine, you just have get through the seminar. With a sigh, you go into the bathroom and take painkillers first. Then you start getting ready.

You turn on the water and let it run hot. A short time later, you go into the shower. The hot steam envelops you and slowly your body feels a little alive again. The nausea subsides and the hangover becomes more bearable. After the shower, you get dressed in peace - black skirt, a comfy sweater and your favorite sneakers. You quickly walk through the apartment again to make sure you packed everything and when you leave the house, you somehow feel less like a wreck.

-

The smell of freshly served pasta is still in your nose as you say goodbye. You got lunch together after your seminar and it was nice to get a little break and talk about everything that happened. Now you are ready to leave but you still have to go to the library to get a book that you need for your upcoming assignment first.

“I still have to go to the library," you tell her, pulling your bag over your shoulder. “Are you coming with me?” you ask her. “I’m sorry, I have to pick up my sister now. But be careful, you don’t want to run into your favorite professor, or do you?” she teases again. “I’m not going to run into him. I’ll hurry up and leave immediately. I’ll call you later. See you tomorrow," you say and give her a quick wave before you set off.

-

The campus is full of students rushing through the halls, carrying their books around or sitting in groups and discussing. You slip into the library and head straight to the section where the book you need is. Unfortunately it’s at the top of the shelf and you realize that you probably won't be able to reach it. You jump up a few times, but the distance between you and the book just seems too big. You sigh. If only you were a little taller.

As you attempt the jump for the third time, you suddenly feel a presence building behind you. One that seems familiar. Your heart beats faster and a nervous tremor takes hold of you. You turn around and stare straight into Professor Reid's eyes. He is standing just inches away from you and you can hear the soft sound of his breathing.

The look he gives you is almost piercing - warm, but somehow also searching. He leans forward slightly without saying a word and effortlessly grabs the book with one hand. You avoid his gaze as he hands it to you. “Thank you," you murmur, trying to hide the slight nervous tremor in your voice. He nods and stands still for a moment.

"You weren't at my lecture today." You stare at the book in your hands and feel your stomach clench. This is not good. “I..." you take a deep breath. "I haven't been feeling so good. My head..." He waits, his eyes still fixed on you, and you get the feeling that he wants to hear more. You feel his gaze on you and when you finally raise your eyes to look into his eyes, there is a silent understanding, and for a moment you wonder if there’s more. “Sick, or...?" he asks calmly. You hesitate and bite your lip.

"I went out partying with my best friend yesterday, it was her birthday… we drank a little bit too much and... well, I'm not feeling so good today. That’s why I skipped." His expression remains neutral, but something in his gaze changes. You can hardly believe it, but it's almost as if he's interested. He frowns slightly. "I understand," he then says. "But it's not ideal to miss class, especially when important topics are involved."

You nod. “I know, Professor. I won’t happen again.” You just want to get out of this situation, and as you try to take a step back he stops you. "No, wait. I need to talk to you." You pause and turn back to him. "About what? I don’t really have the time -" you begin, pretending you don't have any idea what he wants to talk about, when he cuts you off.

"Doesn’t matter, it’s important. We'll sort it out in my office." His gaze is intense as he steps towards you. The thought of him asking you to come to his office makes your heart beat faster. The idea of ​​being alone in a room with him is tempting. "Okay," you say quietly, unable to prevent a nervous tingling from spreading in your chest. You follow him, even though your legs feel like they're made of jelly.

He leads the way, his steps calm and determined, and you can barely keep your eyes from lingering on his back. As soon as you reach the door to his office, he opens it and lets you enter first. You step in, your heart now beating loudly in your ears. The moment he closes the door behind you, you realize that it is more than just a conversation about the seminar.

The look he is giving you now is not the look of a professor. It is the look of a man who wants more than just academic discussions at this moment. And the thought that you’re alone with him in this room inevitably leaves you nervous and intrigued at the same time.

As the door closes behind you, you’re left breathless for a moment. His office is quiet, almost too quiet, compared to the crowded hallways outside. The room is sparsely decorated, except for the desk covered with stacks of paper and a few personal items. He is still standing at the table, his arms loosely folded in front of his chest and looks at you.

"Sit down," he says calmly, pointing to the chair on the opposite of the desk. You hesitate, then finally sit down, your heart pounding in your chest. The nervous energy inside you grows as you try to organize your thoughts. Before he can say anything else, you can’t hold it back any longer. The words come out of you hastily, almost in a rush, and you feel your body tense.

"The picture, it was a mistake! I didn't mean to... It wasn't meant for you. I was drunk, and it was stupid of me, really. I'm sorry." You look at the table, avoiding his gaze. But as you say the last words, you immediately notice how the atmosphere in the room changes. He remains silent for a moment, but then his body language shifts slightly - his gaze becomes more intense, the tension between you almost tangible.

"Hmm," he says after a pause, his voice deep and calm, "so the picture wasn't meant for me?" You flinch when you hear his question. What exactly does he want to hear? What does he want to know from you? You try to stay calm and answer hesitantly.

"It... it's none of your business." His expression hardens instantly. "It is," he says, and his voice sounds sharper, more determined now. "Because you sent it to me." Your heart beats faster as he continues. "I don't think it was an accident, even if you were drunk. You wanted to send it to me. And you did."

A cold shiver runs down your spine. You open your mouth, trying to say something, but you can't find a way to defend yourself. Instead, you just stay still, looking at your hands, which are resting nervously on your lap.

He laughs quietly, a mocking, almost challenging laugh. "So you're really sure it was an accident, huh?" He slowly leans forward, rests his hands on the table and looks straight into your eyes. The look in his eyes has changed, and something in his expression shows you that he is the one in control.

"Do you really think I haven't noticed how you look at me in class? How you keep watching my hands? How you press your thighs together when I approach you?" His words hit you and you freeze for a moment. Your cheeks burn hot, you feel your heart pounding uncontrollably, but you keep quiet. Everything inside you screams to defend yourself, but you stay silent because you know he’s right.

"I noticed from the beginning, angel," he continues, and a shiver runs down your spine. You can’t believe he just called you that. It turns you on immensely. "I know you didn't just do it because of the party and the alcohol. You also sent it to me because you wanted to." He leans further forward, his presence overwhelming, and you can't help but feel small even as you try to assert yourself.

You open your mouth to say something, but the words stick in your throat. What could you say? That he's wrong? That would be a lie. “You sent it to me," he repeats, his voice now almost like a command. "Because you wanted to show me. And I don't think it was an accident. You were drunk, yes, but you wanted me to see you like this."

Your body is paralyzed. It feels like the room has suddenly become smaller. You can hardly breathe. His words and his look have completely captured you in that moment. “I... uh," you begin, but the thought that he is in control, that he sees you like this at this moment, leaves you speechless and you’re unable form a proper sentence.

He remains silent, only his eyes continue to focus on you. "You have to understand that you can't just play with me like that." His gaze becomes more intense, and for a moment it seems as if he wants to say more but then he slowly stands up, walks around the table and stops right in front of you.

"I'll show you something," he says in a calm but unmistakable voice. "And you will understand why it wasn't just an accident." Your heart beats faster. His hand reaches for your chin, lifting it up and tracing his thumb over your bottom lip. Your breath hitches and you lean closer, craving his touch. “Get up and lock the door for me,” he says and pulls his hand away slowly.

You do as your told immediately and when you turn around, he is sitting on his chair with his legs spread. He looks so hot and you desperately clench your thighs together to relief the pressure between your legs. “Good girl. Come here,” he says and pats his thigh. You shiver in excitement and when he notices a grin spreads across his face.

You go over to him and when you stand in front of him, he pulls you down into his lap. He leans forward to whisper into your ear “That’s what you wanted, right? To be my good girl. That’s why you send me that picture. You wanted to end up here,” he says and places his hands on your hips. You press yourself closer against him and inhale his scent, he smells like cinnamon, peppermint and aftershave, it’s addictive.

However, you get interrupt by his hand reaching into your hair to pull your head back. You gasp in surprise and he leans closer to you, looking deep into your eyes again. “I asked you a question. I expect an answer,” he says and you can feel yourself getting even wetter. “Yes, that’s true. I - I always wanted that,” you manage to say and he releases your hair, satisfied with your response.

Then he leans forward and you finally feel his lips against yours. It’s even better than you always imagined and you start to grind against his leg, desperate to release the friction between your legs. But Spencer quickly stops you. “Did I allow you to move?” he asks and you shake your head.

He sighs in disappointment but before he can say anything you quickly answer him. “No, you didn’t,” you say and his grip on your hips looses a little. “That’s right. I didn’t. And you’re not allowed to move until I tell you to. You’re going to listen to me and do exactly what your told, do you understand?” he asks. “I understand.”

“See, it’s not that hard. You listen to me, you behave and you’ll get your reward. Now, do you want to ride my thigh?” he asks, his hand slowly sliding behind your back to your ass, squeezing it. “Yes, please. Can I?” you ask and he leans forward to kiss you again, his tongue exploring your mouth. When he pulls back you can see his eyes sparkling with lust. “So polite, I like that. Yes, you can,” he says and you finally go back to moving against his thigh.

It feels good, so good and when Spencer starts to slide one hand under your shirt to grab your breasts you press closer against him. You can feel that you soaked your underwear trough and wearing only a skirt, you can already see a small wet stain on his pants. His gaze follows yours and he chuckles. “Someone’s needy,” he says and you nod, leaning against his chest, grinding down more against him.

“Spen - Spencer, I’m going to come,” you whimper but he pulls you back by your hair again. “It’s Sir for you, angel,” he says and you correct yourself immediately. “Please Sir, can I come on your thigh now?” you breath out and he grabs your hips again, stopping you.

“No, not yet,” he simply says and you whine when he stands up and you lose contact. “But I thought - “ you start but he doesn’t let you finish. He turns you around and pushes you down onto his desk. “Doesn’t matter what you thought. I decided I’m not letting you come yet,” he says and flips over your skirt to expose your underwear to him.

“I see, another pair then the ones you wore yesterday. I’ve got to admit, I prefer the other ones, but you look pretty anyway, angel,” he says, sliding his hands over your thighs and your ass. “Last night when you send me that picture, I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he admits and you can feel your whole body reacting to his words.

A wave of confidence flashes through you. “Did I keep you up last night, Sir? Did you have to stroke your cock while you looked at my picture? Thinking about all the ways you want to fuck me?” you ask him and turn your head slightly back to look at him with a smirk on your face. His eyes darken and he tightens his grip.

“Oh you have no idea, angel. I’m going to show you exactly what I was thinking about last night,” And suddenly you feel a harsh smack on your ass. He just spanked you. And you liked it. Your breath hitches and you bit down on your lip to keep quiet. You don’t want anyone to find out what’s going on in here.

His hand strokes the spot he just hit before going further down to pull at your panties. He takes them off and stuffs them into his pocket. You are convinced you’re not going to get them back. Then you feel his long, slender fingers sliding between your legs before he presses onto your clit. You gasp in surprise and try to press against him but his grip on your hips is firm, holding you still.

Then he pushes two fingers inside you. “So fucking wet.” His eyes wander over your body down to your legs hungrily, appreciating every curve and every spot. “I’ve never seen such a pretty pussy. And it’s all mine now. You’re all mine now,” he says. The way his fingers move and the way he stares at you intensely feels just way too good.

When his thumb goes back to your clit, rubbing it in slow circles, you can feel how your orgasm builds up inside of you and you can no longer hold back your moans. “Spencer - Sir, feels so good. Please,… I need more,” You clench around his fingers and he quickly puts a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet. “Shh, be quiet, angel. As much as I would love to hear all these lovely sounds you make, I don’t want to get interrupted. Not now, when I finally have you, after all this time.”

His fingers curl inside you and keep hitting your g -spot. You clench around them, he notices and chuckles. “Can I - please,” you stutter. “Yes angel,” he says, already knowing what you’re asking for and you come around his fingers. You never had such an intense orgasm from foreplay before, but you don’t mind. It’s even better than you always imagined.

He wants to give you a moment to recover but you want more. You somehow manage to turn around, even though your legs feel like they are going to give in any second and push yourself up on his desk. He looks surprised and opens his mouth to say something but you interrupt him by pulling him closer by his tie.

You wrap your hands around his neck and rank your fingers through his soft, brown hair before kissing him. You moan into his mouth and he groans, sending a shiver down your spine. “Thank you, Sir. That was amazing,” you say with a smirk on your face when you pull back. “Now is the time to lose your pants and relax, I want to return the favor.”

“As much as I want to see you down on your knees with your pretty lips wrapped around my cock, we don’t have much time left. Office hour starts in less than 30 minutes. And I need to fuck you. So drop it and spread your legs for me. Now,” he demands and you obliged, sitting further back on his desk with your legs spread.

He takes a step back and starts to unzip his dress pants. When he takes out his cock your eyes widen. He is even bigger than you expected. “Are you on the pill?” he asks while he starts to pump his cock. “I am,” you say. “Good. I want to fuck your pussy and then, since you suggested sucking me off, come inside your mouth. I want you to taste me. You don’t swallow until I say so. Do you understand?” he asks, sliding his cock through your folds to tease you. “Yes Sir, I understand,” you whimper and he wastes no time and pushes inside you.

His first thrust already make your eyes roll back and you feel like you’re going to die from the intense pleasure. Your legs wrap around his waits and your hands are on his back, pressing him even more against your body. Everytime a whimper or a moan escapes your mouth his thrust become deeper, rougher and faster. You can feel him throb inside you and he keeps hitting your g- spot over and over again.

One of his hand is sneaking through your breast, squeezing it and toying with your nipple. You graze his back with your fingernails and make sure to leave marks on him. Your mind goes blank and you lose yourself in the pleasure completely. After a few more thrust you can feel the orgasm building up inside of you. “Close,” you breath out and he nods. “Me too. You can come on my cock now.”

You let go and your orgasm is even more intense than you expected. You moan his name so loud that he quickly covers your mouth with his hand again. He picks up his speed and a few thrusts later he pulls out of you to shove his cock into your mouth. You can feel his cum inside your mouth and taste him, just like he told you to. He watches you closely the whole time while he recovers from his own orgasm.

“Now swallow,” he says and you do. Then he pulls you forward with both of his hands to kiss you. The kiss is different this time, more gentle and caring, not just full of lust. When he pulls back you both smile. “I guess sending you this picture was not bad at all. And I was so worried.” He laughs. “I’m glad you send it, angel. Now I finally have you all to myself. It's a shame I couldn't take more time for you right now. There's a lot more I'd like to do with you,” he says with a mischievous smile on his face. “Why don’t you show me after your office hours, Sir?” you say with a smirk on your face. “Make sure to be here on time, angel.”

[windixie]

10 things I hate about you ⟢ ꒰ frat boy! gojo x reader ꒱

⊱ ۫ ׅ pairing ✧ college au . frat boy! gojo x reader . based on the film '10 things I hate about you'

summary . satoru gojo is the usual frat boy that one can think of when you're asked to think of, well, a frat boy. he loves to sleep around and be a womanizer. he swears he's been in every single girls bed from college, but it seems he hasn't gotten into yours. his friend offers to pay him to ask you out and get into your pants in the span of a month. at first he refuses, but who is he to turn down money despite the greedy bastard being rich as hell? what he doesn't expect is to accidentally fall in love with you and forget of his past morals.

⟡ genre/tag . fluff, angst, mentions of starving, enemies to lovers (sort of, you just hate him) college au, gojo is a manwhore ! a bit of suguru x reader and ofc reminder this is based on '10 things I hate about you' so there will be many similarities !

⨾ words . 7.1k

NOT PROOFREAD.

a/n : wrote this after watching 10 things I hate about you for the first time ever. I actually rewatched in a few more times while writing this ! knew I had to write about this right away with my glorious king satoru. also a thank you to my friend for helping me out again !

nav . here !

gojo knew who he was from a young age. setting his goals straight, which were to sleep with every girl he could get his hands on. or his dick into.

he made this a goal the second he graduated high school and got admitted to the states best college, one that was known for having the largest fraternity parties. and so far he has a body count of... well he lost count. charming girls was easy, all he had to do was woo them with a shine of his pearly whites, and his 9-inch dick.

"im surprised your shit hasn't ever gotten infected" suguru remarked, lighting up the cigar that was placed on his pink lips. the two were juniors in college, but they've been close since freshman year when gojo joined into the life of partying.

"easy. I wear condoms." this made suguru's pierced eyebrow lift up as he glanced at the white haired boy.

"thought you went raw."

that made gojo chuckle as he adverted his attention to his friend instead of his phone where he was texting a girl he's had his eye on for a while. the cheerleading captain. if things went well tonight, he will for sure have a chance to pound into her on his bed with a new bed frame after breaking his last one. take a wild guess.

"nah, as if I'd ever give them the full experience."

when I said that this school was widely known for their frat parties, I meant it. there is one every Friday, and every Friday you turned down your friends offer to go out with her. sure you attended some parties, just not any fraternities.

"cmon, you never come with me! you're always so busy doing nothing" bianca grumbled as she dramatically flopped onto your bed, making you jump a little. "and I will continue to be busy doing nothing" you shot back as you cleaned off the dust on your neglected guitar. "not even for an hour?" "nope." "not even for me?" "absolutely not, can't risk seeing my ex."

"what about for choso?"

now, by all means you definitely did not have any romantic feelings towards the emo boy. regardless of being a bit alternative yourself, you had no interest going after boys with similar tastes and style as you, not after your past relationship. choso was the lead guitarist of a band you've known for years. they perform once in a while at small or big events. this party being one of them. you've been wanting to ask him for guitar tips, but the man was quite reserved.

"for real?"

"mhm." she lifted up her head from the pillow propping her on her palm. "you should go, maybe to get the chance to talk to him. they lost a back up guitarist last week-"

"yeah I know." you interrupted

"maybe you could fill in that spot."

you went quiet for a bit letting the idea sink in for a bit before lifting up your head to look at her, slowly placing down your fender guitar, that was now looking brand new, on the floor next to the amplifier. "well, maybe I can."

meanwhile, in the comfort of the frat house, gojo was absolutely losing his mind. he has a hook up in less than an hour and nothing is going according to plan. "hey. hey! this is not the beer I asked for you guys to buy!" he shouted from across the room as he saw his friends carry in a cooler full of heineken instead of bud light which he claimed was the best beer created.

"you're stressing out man, calm down." suguru's hands met with gojos shoulders massaging the knots of stress that were forming. "course i'm stressed, am going to be deep inside the cheerleading captain if the party impresses her, can't let this opportunity just slip away."

"she's chopped." shoko chimed in as she walked past the two boys carrying a cooler herself. "well yeah but like, its a huge deal alright?!" he threw his hands up in the air in despair. "where the hell is that band?"

"they're on their way, should be here in twenty."

"yeah well the party fucking starts in twenty!" he bit back. his anxiety was hard to miss. just then as if it was divine intervention, choso walked in dabbing suguru up, exchanging a few pats on the back. "haven't seen you in a while man."

the guitarist that left the group? that was suguru. he ditched the band simply because he wanted to focus more on his party life after being influenced by satoru. and somewhere along the way he lost interest in that dumb dream he had on becoming a rockstar or whatever. that obviously didn't sit well with the other band members, but choso could care less, not like suguru was contributing anything to the band in the first place since choso's guitar always outshined suguru's.

“mhm, thanks for coming, you guys can go set up over there” he pointed at the stage they set up.

“will do.”

you rarely wore dresses. not that you didn’t like them, they’re just not your go to option to wear. but there’s no way you’d ever say you hated the one you were wearing right now. it was a pretty vintage one that bianca was lending you for tonight after you finally agreed to accompany her to the party.

“see you look gorgeous” bianca placed her mascara wand down to look at you up and down admiring how her dress fit you perfectly. “i like it” you hummed looking down at yourself.

“come on, we’ll be late.”

the loud music filled the cramped building as you made your way through the crowd clinging onto bianca’s arm for your life. people danced, drank, and made out in every corner you’d look at. the whole place reeked and the flashing lights and loud music made it very overwhelming. gojo wobbled down the stairs fixing his white locks, pushing them back panting as he threw himself on the couch where suguru greeted him with a red cup.

“well?” the sweating boy gladly took a sip of his beer grunting. “had to cover her face in a pillow. her expressions were pissing me off.” his long limbs stretched out. suguru chuckled as he cracked his neck a bit listening to the song that was playing carefully. “oh shit, i wrote this song.” “don’t care.” satoru mumbled. “well, guess i can say i’ve fucked every girl in school.” as if that was anything to flex about.

that’s when sugurus eyes landed on you from across the room, a smirk crept up on his face noticing how out of place you looked.

his pretty ex girlfriend.

you and suguru dated all throughout high school. after joining college, he was ready for new things, such as sex. but you weren’t which led to your breakup and fucked your best friend at the time out of spite. you lost both your boyfriend and best girl just from not being ready to get your virginity taken away.

“what about her?” he asked pointing at you. satoru followed his finger before his eyes found you as well. “who the hell even is that” he could barely make out your figure through the colored lights and his blurry vision. “so you haven’t.”

bianca served you a drink which you were definitely not going to consume, before she excused herself to find someone to dance with.

“here drink this. i’ll be back alright? choso is right over there, use this time to talk to him.”

before you even got the chance to even let out a word, she left. you felt abandoned as she left you in the kitchen all alone. bringing up the cup to your lips, you took a sip before cringing at how god awful it tasted.

“not a fan of heineken? told those bastards to bring in bud light but they never listen” you hear a voice behind you, making you turn around to meet eyes with satoru, the most handsome man you've ever laid eyes on. the bet was simple. he had exactly one month, until november 20, to make you fall for him and fuck him. with a whopping 300$ waiting at the end for him, if successful.

“you get into her panties in a month, and i’ll pay you.” your ex offered. “why?” gojos eyebrows furrowed. “what’s in it for you?”

the whole thing was suspicious to him at first. suguru never gets in the way of gojos sex life. never telling him who to fuck or who to avoid fucking.

“mm just cuz.. she’s difficult. you like a challenge don’t you?”

reluctantly, satoru agrees. “how much?”

“300.”

“bet.”

“oh sorry don’t think we’ve met before. i’m satoru” he offered a sweet smile, showing off those pearly whites that could have a girl soaking wet in 10 seconds. “oh.. okay.” your response made him still for a second.

“i want you to go out with me”

“huh?”

“go out with me.” he repeated which only made you scoff at the boy’s advances. “sorry not really interested.” a grunt left his mouth before continuing. “i can take you out some place real nice, places you’ve never been before.”

“like the 7/11 in broadway?”

he froze for a second before chuckling shaking his head while doing so. “well, no..” his pale fingers reached out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “you like picnics, pretty?”

“not really.” his hand got smacked away by yours. “ill prepare you the best dishes you can imagine.”

“im seriously not interested, thank you though.”

he stood there, dumbfounded, as he watched you walk away. this was going to take a while.

you didn't even have the opportunity to talk to choso, which was the whole reason why you wanted to go to the dumb party in the first place, because bianca came running towards you ordering for you two to leave this instant after finding the boy she was talking to fucking another girl.

the way you met bianca was from her showing you around the college campus when you transferred, become your only friend so far. and you knew that this boy she was in a talking stage with was really, really her type. that night you spent comforting her, allowing her to soak your shoulder with her tears and her barely audible tantrum, as well as thinking about the boy that wanted to desperately go out with you. what was that about?

────୨ৎ────

gojo could've sworn he left dissecting frogs back in high school, but here he was again, poking around at the laid back the diseased amphibians internal organs. "no way am I doing this shit." with a mutter, he placed the tweezers down gagging, shaking his hands in disgust before pulling out his cigarette box, sliding one out placing it in between his pretty pink lips, far too pretty for a man. "smoking in class? you'll set the smoke alarm off." suguru scooted closer to his friend. "how'd it go yesterday? did you get her number or..?" gojo exhaled, no smoke yet, just resignation.

"nothing happened. she wasn't interested" the black haired boy scoffed, not comprehending the words that were coming out the school's playboy. " you're satoru fucking gojo, this should be easy as hell for you!"

“well how do I make her fall for me?” he brought up the lighter up to his cigar huffing it slowly before blowing it towards suguru, in which he looked down at gojo unimpressed. “you can start by putting that,” he took ahold of the cigarette before crushing it down against the table, which left a nasty dent on the cheap laminate. “down.” he ordered flatly, staring as gojo whined like a kid who just got denied candy from the check out isle. “she doesn't like boys who smoke.”

“..how do you know that?”

suguru paused in deep thought. "I overheard her telling her friend that, the one that has the white pearls around her neck all the time. they were talking about their types or something." he shrugged. "anything else she said about her type?" gojo asked intrigued as if he was about to take a test on you specifically.

“she likes pretty guys.”

“are you telling me im not a pretty guy?”

As if divine intervention occurred, the door creaked open, pausing the chatter between the two boys. there you were. wearing a cute frilly outfit as you made your way to your desk. suguru shot gojo a pointed look before walking away. the sight of you made gojo straighten his posture suddenly hyper aware of every detail of himself. quickly running a hand through his hair and gulping, his adams apple bobbing. he shot you a smirk as you got close.

"hey.. wanna traumatize this frog with me?"

you looked down at the poorly dissected frog then back at him, the boy from the party. "looks like you've traumatized it enough." your response made him blink. well, at least you were giving him full sentences now but your sarcasm hurt his ego a bit. "if you give it a kiss, im sure you'd bring it back to life." the boys blue eyes met yours. "or you can kiss me instead.."

you let out a small chuckle. "like that'd be any different."

"just sit down.." he pushed a stool for you to sit down on. you were reluctant but you sat down, sliding off your bag to set it down next to you before slipping on a pair of gloves provided by the lab you were both currently doing, or about to do. "girls would kill to place their lips on mine"

"oh im sure.." you picked up the scalpel, carefully inspecting the frog. "are you seriously this bad at dissecting?"

"baby im a lover not a scientist." gojo brought a hand up to his heart dramatically.

shooting him a glance, you continue poking around the organs. "you don't even qualify as the first one.." he snorted at your sass, lips twitching in a cute crooked grin. "I beg to differ" he brought his hand up to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. "go out with me, please."

"hold the damn frog still before I poke one of your eyes out instead"

"yes ma'am."

suguru watched from afar with a serious look placed on his face.

────୨ৎ────

the wandering page is heaven itself. a cute shop tucked right around the corner of the school full of second hand books and cd's. its tyour go to spot where you usually buy your cd's for your collection that was placed neatly back at your dorm. you entered, the bell placed on top of the door notifying any workers of your entrance quickly making your way to the music disc section, crooked shelves full of cd's. you're surprised to see many new arrivals.

some were year old music, and some were rare old ones from the 2000's. you reached out to grab a few, a soft smile plastered on your face as you scanned the labels. so deep into it, you didn't notice the bell chiming again.

"excuse me, have you seen any cd of the cranberries?" the smooth voice behind you asked. "oh sorry I don't work here-"

"found out through her instagram stories, she enjoys listening to this Irish band, the cranberries."

"what's her insta?" gojo looked up from his phone, pausing his game.

"uhhh, shit can't find it anymore but anyways. use that information how you want" suguru grabbed his hair, making a messy bun out of it. "got it."

halfway through your sentence, you took a good look at who was behind you. satoru. "oh, it's you." your eyes narrowed as they focused on him. the boy slid his glasses on the crown of his head. you didn't know he even wore those, well you barely knew him. still, you'd be lying if you said you didn't find it attractive. "are you stalking me?" you asked defensively.

"what? no no, I guess this is just destiny" his eyes lowered down to the cd in your hands. "frank valli? isn't that guy like, ancient?" you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. the plastic creaked at the way your hands gripped it tighter. "I wouldn't say that."

satoru chuckled tilting his head a bit. he sure has some nerve.

"didn't realize you were into boy bands."

"not a boy band"

"right, got it."

you pushed past him to head to the cashier. shit.

────୨ৎ────

"you're not going to get anywhere if you keep teasing her like that." suguru knew you hated when people would make fun of your interests, even if it was just a harmless joke. the edge on his tone wasn't unnoticed by his friend. "she's so.. difficult." gojo muttered, half to himself, as he threw a basketball up in the air before catching it as it fell back into his hands.

"hes weird. real weird." you explained to bianca who was so intrigued by the sudden love interest that appeared in your life out of nowhere. "no way the satoru gojo is wanting to take you out!" without hesitation, you threw a pillow at her, which landed right on her face. "don't say it like that!.. hurts me a bit" with a groan, you allowed your hand to drag over your face. "cmon its just that.. he's not known for asking girls out. he just gets on with the freaky ass stuff."

you gave her a flat look. "I feel so special."

"what else does she like? since you know soooo much about her."

"well.. apart from the cranberries, she likes the Marias. they're performing near us, take her there. im sure that'll definitely make her warm up to you. and once she does, go for it." gojos face faltered, his expression turning a bit more thoughtful as he sat up.

"seriously?"

"mhm. take her."

"... pass me my computer. let me order the tickets."

"well I think you should give him a chance. he's very handsome." biancas eyebrows wiggled. "girl you can have him, I don't want him." you replied, which only earned a groan from her. "I don't want any boy who thinks the whole world revolves around him because he's a frat boy with a body count of two hundred"

"if you really didn't want him, you wouldn't be talking about him every five minutes."

her comment really shut you up.

────୨ৎ────

you weren't expecting to see two tickets slip right into your line of sight while you were halfway through placing some textbooks in your locker. the bold blue letters read, 'THE MARIAS' "hi pretty.. got these for you and me." your eyes widened at the familiar voice. the white haired individual really had a habit of sneaking up behind you didn't he? "you.. you got-" you stammered, blinking at the sight of the tickets, then back at him.

"got these for you and me." he repeated himself, both his voice and gaze softening. not sure to be flattered or continue being suspicious, you slowly accepted one of the tickets, taking it from his pale hand. "you really don't give up huh?"

"id never give up on you. how many times do I have to tell you sweetheart, I want you. so allow me to take you out, yeah?" his voice never stuttered. but your heart did.

"one date." you said firmly as you lifted up your finger, finally agreeing to his advances. his charm was different.. it was bold, yes, but real. "don't push your luck, im only accepting because its the marias. im not even going to ask how you know I like them."

"because I like you." there was short pauses between his words allowing each syllable to sink in. like he meant it.

"one date, for now." he said placing his lips on your cheek lightly, making you freeze. "ill pick you up at seven.. here give me your phone number."

you had no idea why you were allowing him to win a point at this game he was forcing you to play. but you were definitely not going to complain now.

"alright I gave em to her." the proud boy with a grin stretched from ear to ear, walked up to where suguru was.

"told you it'd work."

for some odd reason, suguru couldn't help but feel a deep sense of jealousy. you were his girlfriend for years. and his dumb actions ruined all of it. but if he made you realize that no one would ever love you like he did, you'd for sure come crawling back to him.

later that night, in the comfort of your un-made bed, you sat cross legged staring down at the new contact. satoru with a stupid blue heart next to it. of course he'd type in his name like that. "just one date.." you repeated to yourself. a silent warning to yourself, him, and the universe.

satoru : hi ml, wear something cute yea? and something easy to take off ;)

you stared at the message. any past thoughts of him not being that bad quickly vanished. obviously, you weren't going to give him the satisfaction of your reply, so you left him on read. guess that hurt his feelings because a few minutes later he texted again.

satoru : im joking baby :(

you threw your phone onto the night stand, like it burned your hand. you couldn't decide what was worse, his sad excuse of flirting, or the fact that your lips were twitching in a just barely visible smile.

"going on a date I see?" bianca grinned as she watched you put on the last bit of blush on your cheek. "lemme guess, you finally agreed to gojos attempts?"

"yep. just one date though. only because he bought me concert tickets."

her eyes widened. "no way! to see who?!"

"the Marias."

"oh, if that isn't true love right there, id not know what is."

you chuckled. "did you confront your talking stage?"

"fuck no" she groaned. "just blocked him everywhere, im not giving him any time of my day so he could explain himself to me." her body fell on your bed, bouncing a bit. "did you ever talk to choso?"

shit. that's what you've been forgetting.

"ill get around to it."

you both met up to where you agreed, which was just outside the girls dormitories. the second he saw you, his heart fluttered.

you looked, no, you are gorgeous. why was he just noticing this now?

"...hey" a smile crept up on his face. he was dressed casual while you wore a pretty jean skirt with a shirt from the band. "hi" you returned the greeting.

"you're so beautiful.." you'd be lying if you said you weren't flustered. if you were to lie, the dark tint of pink on your cheeks would say otherwise. "lets just go."

with a chuckle, he led you to his car. a model of the year, typical for a rich ass boy like him. being the gentleman he was, he opened the passenger door for you before closing it as you settled yourself down.

he made his way over to the drivers seat. "you ready babe?"

the concert was beautiful. the music reached your heart it made you tear up, of course some songs made you recall your past relationship. gojo couldn't help but admire you from time to time. watching as your pretty mouth sang along to the unknown lyrics.

"lets take a picture pretty." he said out of nowhere. "a picture?" he nodded before pulling out his phone snapping a few pictures of you and him throughout the night, mostly of you. you did the same, filling up your gallery with endless pictures and videos.

as the night came to an end, he drove you safely back home, both of you discussing the songs you enjoyed being performed the most.

"I think I enjoyed back to me the most"

"no way! paranoia was clearly the most enjoyable."

he rolled his eyes. "yeah well I think what I enjoyed the most was seeing you sing. you're gorgeous baby."

"you already told me that like twenty times."

"and ill continue to tell you for the rest of my life and beyond that." his words made your stomach twist. not in a bad way. definitely not.

it was quiet for a bit before you spoke again. "yknow I want to be in a band." gojos eyebrows rose up in surprise. "that so?" you nodded. "my ex boyfriend was in one." the mention of you having a dating history didn't sit well with him. he kept reminding himself that this was all just a bet. so why did it bother him?

"mm so you're saying im not going to be your first boyfriend?"

"you're very confident to know if I even want you as my boyfriend."

the radio played soft melodies through the quiet moments between the two of you. "my friend was in a band too, he quit tho"

now it was your turn to be surprised. "oh that's cool."

"I want to join chosos band, that's the one-" before you could finish, he arrived at the side of the sidewalk that led to the girls dormitories. "choso.. I know him. ive got connections and I have no problem recommending you to him darling."

"you'd do that for me?"

"course I would."

".. counting down the seconds to go on another date with you soon love." he spoke quietly. his soft voice made you smile. and before you knew it, you were leaning into a kiss with no control over your body, like it was possessed by a curse or something.

gojo froze. he was torn between kissing you back or not. "lets save this for another time."

your heart sank as you pulled back.

opening the door, you left without a goodnight. or a kiss. once you were out of view, satoru dragged his hands down his face groaning. he's grown attached to you without knowing it. and he's hurt you with denying your kiss. he was getting what he wanted. well, what the bet said.

he knew he had to fix this somehow. he couldn't just let you lose all feelings for him when he was so close.

the next day, upon walking to campus, he paid a couple of band students, winking at them. what was he up to?

────୨ৎ────

you were outside sitting on the first bench closest to the field scrolling on your phone.

you were annoyed.

no. pissed. pissed at how he dodged your kiss like it meant nothing and honestly you have every right to be. because why is he hesitant to kiss you when he’s the one that was so desperate. is this some sort of sick joke?

if he wanted to feed into his ego by making you fall for him. well he got it.

but if he wanted you. he wouldn’t have flinched.

your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a microphone starting.

“can't take my eyes of off you..” he murmured into the microphone, his eyes locking on yours. you blinked once. and then again - unsure if you were seeing right. before you even got a chance to process it, the band that was right next to you began to perform filling the field with the familiar tune of ‘can’t take my eyes off you’. his body stepped forward, then another, until he broke into a dance. you let out a few chuckles of disbelief as you watched him make a fool of himself.

“i love you baby!” you wanted to crawl into a corner and die from embarrassment. “and if it’s quite alright, i need you baby..” his finger pointed right at you.

a crowd formed, recording as the schools biggest frat boy performed for a girl they’ve never seen before. you brought your hands up to you face covering it in embarrassment as a flush appeared. he was so off key now, yelling out the lyrics as two police officers approached him. he made a bee line towards the bottom of the bleachers, dodging any attempt of getting caught. as he finally reached you, his arm wrapped around your waist.

“oh pretty baby..” he panted as the chorus died down. your hands shot up grabbing the collar of his shirt before smashing your lips onto his for a short, but sweet, kiss, before he was taken away by the officers.

“i love you baby..” he said as he got dragged out the field by the hold of the officers.

and part of you knew that his words were truthful.

────୨ৎ────

detention was awful. well not really, but for satoru it is. sitting in silence for an hour is straight up torture. he would rather take death than one more second of this.

he was unaware of the faint tapping on the window next to him until you accidentally tapped too hard, ducking your head just in time. he was close enough to look down and see you there. he looked up to see the teacher too busy typing away at her computer, probably writing that inappropriate novel everyone says she writes, before looking back down at you. you waved your hand, gesturing for him to escape.

'I can't..' he worded which you just rolled your eyes at.

'come on!'

he sighed looking back at the teacher before he slowly opened the window. he stood up as the teacher got distracted by tapping on her window now. he took this opportunity to jump out, landing harshly on the grass. before he could let out a groan of pain, your hand covered his mouth.

"come on."

you both made a run for it, away from the school campus.

"did you see that my love? I was like a ninja!"

"you sure didn't land like one."

he grinned before wrapping his arm around your shoulder. "you like the performance I gave ya?

"..yeah, my favorite part was you getting caught." he lightly shoved you away before hugging you again.

you both were laying in bed at his dorm, enjoying each others presence. "so.. you going to tomorrows frat?" he asked softly as he rubbed your back. "I dunno.. last time I went I didn't like it."

he needed you to go. he only had three more days to fuck you. "it'll be fun.. just come with me." his persistence made you furrow your eyebrows. "why are you forcing this on me?

"im not forcing you. is it too much for me to ask you to come join me at my party?"

"dont talk like that to me." you propped yourself up on your elbow looking down at him. "what. what is is going on huh?"

he scoffed. "nothing!"

"well its obviously something if you keep on-mmph!" his lips on yours cut you off. you obviously allowed him to mold his onto yours.

"just want to show off my pretty doll to everyone.. so come tomorrow"

he was running out of time, after all.

────୨ৎ────

at the end, you agreed to accompany him. after reaching the frat house, you searched for the bathroom needing a pee break after drinking too much water earlier. after countless doors being opened, and getting flashed, you finally secured yourself some privacy.

you came back from the bathroom, rounding the corner, just in time to hear a laugh.

"can't believe you actually pulled this off man." the voice was one you haven't heard in months. another voice cuts in. "yeah yeah whatever, it stopped being a bet weeks ago suguru."

your heart drops.

no, no no this can't be happening.

drunken laughter chatting about how you thought this actually meant something. that you meant something to satoru.

"so you dont want your prize?" you quickly approached the two voices. your entire world stopped as you saw satoru, and your ex suguru.

"are you fucking kidding me?" you stared at him, feeling so many emotions all at once. anger, betrayal, and even denial. your mind was processing what you just heard. you wanted to hear it wasn't real, that he wasn't only after you because of a bet and that he actually likes you. but you knew you were better than that, you couldn't help but connect all the dots. the coincidence that he came up to you at that frat party, the same one you knew suguru was in. the way gojo knew your interests. the way he knew your type.

it wasn't fate. it was orchestrated.

there was horror written all over gojos face. "no baby.. baby listen to me." but you refused, shaking your head. you refused because the following words were going to be the confirmation that you dreaded to hear. without another word, you turned away pushing though the crowd. "y/n!" he shouted, but you didn't turn back. as you made your way down the hall, his hand wrapped around you wrist, "please, PLEASE listen to me!" in which you yanked back.

"it was all a bet huh? set up by the one boy I hate the most. I knew I shouldn't have trusted you! you're just like every other frat-" you were interrupted by his lips molding against yours. no matter how much you wanted to melt into it, you didn't. your hands landed on his chest, pushing him off you before wiping your lips. the boy stood there, stunned, as his sad blue eyes watched you walk out.

"babe.."

that night your phone was blowing up. call after call, text after text- all from him.

satoru : y/n please.

satoru : call me, return my calls lets talk pretty.

satoru : it was a bet, but believe me when I tell you that I truly love you.

satoru : I love you. say it back baby. please I need you. can't lose you, im sorry love please don't leave. fuck suguru for all I care.

you were debating if you should just block him for good, finger hovering over the red block button. but you simply put your phone on dnd and headed to sleep recalling the horrible events of tonight. tear stains were placed on your cheeks, mascara ruined, just like how your life felt. ruined.

Bianca had tried, she really did. she tried her best to comfort you, but she understood you needed space. the sweet girl provided you with extra blankets as well as water, she even rubbed off the remaining makeup on you. she as well received some texts from satoru. her response?

'fuck you.''

satoru hasn't felt this horrible since he accidentally flushed down his sisters goldfish back in first grade. but it wasn't the same.

the goldfish didn't hate him. you did.

and he hated himself for how he made you feel. he hated himself for doing this to you. but god was he grateful to have taken on that bet. not for the money, but for you. because of the bet, he met such a wonderful girl who he was completely smitten for. too bad that the girl now hates his guts.

the weather matched how gojo felt. he looked like hell.

his iconic shades and stupid grin weren't present. his usual outfits was replaced by a simple white t-shirt with sweatpants. the confident boy was now just a regular burnt out college student who looks like he missed out on eight hours of sleep to study for his physics final. he hasn't eaten since yesterday, deciding his body didn't deserve to be rewarded with food.

he ignored the glances from other students. people who idolized him were staring with widened eyes. no way was that satoru gojo. some of his frat bros came up to him, hitting his back, laughing at whatever the hell they thought was funny. suguru included.

satoru swore he began seeing red.

"you never told me she was your fucking ex." he muttered dangerously. suguru let out a sigh, leading gojo away from others. "hey, we made a bet. don't see why you're mopping about it. I wanted to show her that really no one would love her like me. anyways here, you ran out yesterday couldn't give this to you." he pulled out the prize promised from the beginning. those damn 300$.

satoru pushed the money back to sugars chest. "I dont want it." all the air was knocked from sugars lungs for a second. gojos fist collided with sugurus cheekbone. sugurus eyes widened and a few gasps could be heard from the scene. his gaze following satoru watching as he walked further and further away.

the boy was desperate to see you. he needed to find a way to prove himself to you. to prove that his feelings were real.

you didn't show up to your classes that day, deciding its best if you stayed in bed scrolling through your phones gallery wanting to delete every picture you've taken of him.

satoru : good morning angel, you've got every right to hate me. but im not giving up on us, not when you're everything ive ever wanted. talk to me mkay?.."

Bianca thankfully walked in which quickly made you forget about his text.

"hey girl.. know this is bad to bring up now but.. choso wants to talk to you later at the frat he's playing at. something about letting you into the band."

for the first time in a while, you felt happy. you knew who recommended you to him.

"you know what happened last time I went to a frat.."

she chuckled a bit. "ill make sure that son of a bitch doesn't approach you. ill be your personal guard dog madam."

the familiar smell of beer, weed, and other shit you didn't want to know, came to you. the same smells you encountered on that night. biancas arm was around yours tightly, keeping watch of your surroundings. "alright, we got emo boy on stage. frat boy at 10 o'clock"

"I dont think that's 10 o'clock.." you muttered which you were quickly 'shh' at. "okay coast is clear."

you took in deep breaths reminding yourself that you weren't here for gojo, you were here because you might have a chance to join your ex boyfriends band. he caught your eye for a second, offering you a small nod.

bianca nudged you, urging you to go talk to him. "if gojo dares to even approach you, ill smash his empty head with my beer." you weaved through the crowd, getting closer to where choso and the others were setting up. "hey stink. haven't seen you in a while." you recalled the old nickname the bandmates gave you all those years ago.

"hi choso.. you wanted to talk?" he hummed, nodding, as his fingers adjusted the chords that were plugged into his guitar. "you still got that fender?" your heart stopped for a second. "great, lets meet up every Thursday, ill teach you and we'll let you into the band."

"you're serious?"

"yeah. confused why you didn't just ask me in person. had to hear it from your new boyfriend."

just as you felt your stress go away, any memories of gojo leave your mind, they came back immediately. "oh.. no no he's not my boyfriend." you explained. "ah, right. you still got my number?" he asked in which you shook your head. "nope, suguru made me delete any contacts that were of a guy."

a half chuckle half scoff escaped his lips. "course he did."

before you could discuss any more details, a voice behind you appeared. for the 100th time in the past month. "wow.. you're glowing."

gojo.

the sound of his voice sent shivers throughout your body. you turned to see him.. disheveled. the bags under his eyes gave away his lack of sleep. he looked miserable. still stupidly hot of course.

"what the hell do you want."

"I want to talk.."

bianca was running across the room, ready to jump on him. "get away from her asshole! you got ten seconds!" gojo looked down at her with a confused look before looking back at you. with a bit of hesitation, you agreed. "fine."

in a secluded area, the same spot where you had your "break up" you ordered him to talk. "I messed up. so fucking bad. I took the bet, yeah. thought I could.. woo you. but believe me when I said I had zero idea suguru was the ex you talked about."

"to me you weren't a bet baby. everything about you felt raw. you kept rejecting me and god, that made me want you even more."

you didn't speak, allowing him to finish letting out his emotions. "and I hated myself for liking you, for falling for you like a fucking idiot. because it meant it wasn't a bet anymore, it was love. and I hated how I took that bet. I hated your stupid hair, and the way you played guitar. I hated the music you listened to, your dorky smile. I hate the way your voice softens when you talk about the shit you like. I hate that I dont know every detail about you down to you favorite childhood movie. but.. I hate how I don't hate you at all. and I hate how I dont regret doing the bet at all, because otherwise, I wouldn't have met you."

his voice was raw. the emotions he had going on began to flowing down his cheeks. you began to remember why you fell for him in the first place because even though he was an entitled frat boy, he already had the key to your heart with the way he talked to you. "..you can't just fix this with recommending me to choso's band.."

"I know." he whispered.

"..and you lied to me." you continued, but at this point you were just playing with him.

"I did. but im not lying now. I stopped lying weeks ago."

"why?"

"because I fell in love with this really awesome girl."

you looked up at him for a while, taking in his apology and confession. there was no longer a frat boy in front of you, he was cracked open showing who he truly was. just a sweet boy who wanted your love.

just satoru.

"you love me?" you asked.

he nodded, rather quickly. "absolutely"

"..and if I dont love you back."

god, he'd kill himself. "then, that'd be fine too." he watched as you stepped closer. "if I asked you to stay away from me forever-"

"I will do that too." he promised.

"..but you wouldn't."

"I wouldn't." he placed his lips on yours, feeling as your arms wrapped around his neck as his found your waist, deepening the kiss.

"dont screw up again satoru."

"fuck, just kiss me."

and that you did.

ending a/n . hope you all enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing ! this was my first long fic.. never doing ts again.

[2-dsimp]

Imagine a yandere college student x milf reader

Milf reader who thinks they’re past their prime admittedly they’re in early-mid 40s. They’re a single mother of three kids including the eldest son who’s the yandere’s best friend. Milf reader is always there giving support to both their son and especially said bestfriend. That happened to be obsessed with you right at the start of their freshman year of college. After you managed to comfort him by telling him that being considered abnormal by his peers. Isn’t bad but something he should be proud about, after all originality is a keen quality to have nowadays.

Unfortunately the college student took your words to heart in the most peculiar of ways…

You got stood up. Again. You tried your hardest to get back into the dating scene. But all your suitors got cold feet standing you up at the last minute. You were devastated all that time wasted on getting all dolled up for a no show. But little did you know that your son’s bestfriend was there to photograph you in all your glory. Before coincidentally bumping into you, asking if you could help him out with some cooking recipes. Since you were the no1 chef in his eyes, hell you could serve him dog kibble and he’d eat it like it was heaven on earth.

If only you had looked closer you may have noticed a Glock imprint. Within his signature trench coat with many pockets. Each dedicated to conceal the questionable items he brought whenever you had an outing set. The college boy always did have a knack for acing target practice at the gun range. And all your former suitors served to be a good way for him to destress. There’s no way he’d let you end up with anyone besides himself.

———/———-/————-

should I expand more on this? 👀

[vampireistic]

failed replaced!MC AU

ཐི synopsis: diavolo has sent down a brand new human exchange student! one that, unfortunately, seems to be very keen on stealing all the limelight for themselves…with such pathetic results it’s almost endearing.

ཐི feat. demon bros

ཐི warnings: mentions of blood/injury, second person

ཐི a/n: yanked this idea from @squeakyducky ! ٩( ᐛ )و named the human exchange student “notus” after the greek god of the south wind because in the comic the MC is called “zephyr” after the god of the west wind (not directly in opposition of one another in mythology but i thought it would be fitting). + also this is kinda long…(;_;)

You weren’t upset about having a new human exchange student, no-one really was, but just the gut feeling that Diavolo was going to throw you in as their guide was really starting to irk you (having to deal with several argumentative debate-lords thirsty for your attention doesn’t give you much energy to deal with newbies).

Who knew though? Maybe this was exactly what you needed; a break from all the fantasy in the world for a touch of realism. A touch of home.

However, soon as that portal twinkled to reveal a rather attractive human figure bursting with confidence, your latent arcane abilities smelled trouble. But then again, you were rarely right about first glance opinions on people, maybe this was just another instance?

Ok, well, when you tried going up to introduce yourself you were met with a glare so maybe you weren’t so wrong after all. Benefit of the doubt, you repeat to yourself. You remember being particularly snappy to people within your first arrival - it’s natural instinct! I mean the brother’s also threatened to eat you on the first day here, perhaps they’re just naturally standoffish.

“This is Notus, our newest human exchange student! Please be sure to give them a warm welcome.” Diavolo’s voice boomed across the council hall, eyes gleaming with excitement. Like the first time, the brothers introduce themselves one by one, each a little more on edge than the last - maybe they felt that weird energy too?

Whatever, you pushed those thoughts aside for the time being and took on the role as the newest babysitter for a human that seemed to have a much unnecessary distance while walking next to you.

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It started off fine:

Occasional misplacement of your items; an untied shoelace that makes you trip (with Mammon getting a heart attack as he pulls you up by your wrist); messing up an elixir you were sure that you measured correctly; and opening your bag to find your homework gone.

Childish antics that you tried your best to push blame onto either your own forgetfulness or a misplaced prank that was meant to mess with Lucifer. But somehow, it got so much worse - and that little demonic human decided to finally take fault of their pranks by flaunting it off with pride.

“Oh, MC?” Notus caught your attention with a double tap on your shoulder. “Did you enjoy the nature reserve?” Mammon tilted his head to the side, confusion scrunching his face as he looked over at you.

“It was really lame, Thirteen would’ve done better.” Of course you were not referring to an actual excursion, no, you mean the wild animals that had magically found themselves a snuggly home in your bed as well as the plethora of Devildom-specific deadly mushrooms and herbs that replaced your old plant pots.

“Hah? What are you two yappin’ about?” Mammon huffed, clearly annoyed that he wasn’t part of this big secret that you two seemed to share. Notus smugly cuddled up to him, arms wrapping around his bicep a little too tight. “Oh it’s nothing! Just a little…gift, I got MC as a thank you for being such a great guide!”

“Oi! How come I never got anythin’ from ya when I had to babysit?” His brows furrow as he clearly attempts to, rather nicely, shrug off the unwanted attention. This is the first time you’ve seen Mammon look so visibly uncomfortable - clearly oblivious to such a fact, Notus continued snuggling themselves closer, trailing their fingers up and down Mammon’s arm.

Of course, you ended up telling all of this Lucifer, to which he implemented a special spell on your lock so no sneaky human that’s barely acquainted with magic could unlock, with the reassurance that if these “pranks” and unwanted behaviours escalate, it would be taken to Lord Diavolo directly.

──────────────────────

Mammon was an obvious first victim for this weird power trip of a game - he’s as kind as a lamb and just the teeniest bit dumb (lovingly so, you reassure him) - but somehow the antics got more assertive and the targets much more hazardous. Satan. Honestly at this point, all you could feel was pity as you sat in the living room, nose buried in a book that Solomon had instructed you to study.

Notus had lived alongside you for a little over two weeks now, and while those small pranks continued, this is the first time you’ve seen them take on an “opponent” that would be way too much to chew. Sliding onto the couch with a careless saunter, Notus cozied themselves up into a cushion right near Satan’s arm, their breath basically ghosting over his neck. His face twitched.

“What?” Satan scowled, a face you haven’t seen in a while crunching his usually stoic expression to a frown.

“Sataan, can you please help me study? I’m struggling in Seductive Speechcraft and need a bit of…” their hand awkwardly inches closer to his hair, “guidance.”

“Go find a book or ask your lecturer.” He aids somewhat clamly, before that mask slips off momentarily to threaten them: “Don’t bother me, you’ll regret it.”

Well, that ended quicker than you expected. Guess even the ever so bold exchange student cowers at the icy glare from the Avatar of Wrath? You can’t help but giggle from where you sat, to which Notus immediately looks up for, facing twisted in an ugly scowl.

──────────────────────

After the failure that didn’t even really begin that was the day before, Notus went for someone much more gullible and easy to please. The favourite orange-haired glutton. Offering him a massive, drool-worthy sponge cake from the human world that they swear, “MC asked me to deliver!” He wasted no time in scarfing down the citric frosting soon as that familiar melodic sound of your name hit his ears.

Beelzebub isn’t known to be someone who’s reluctant to not eat things - unless it’s Mammon’s or Solomon’s sacrilegious cooking - but in this case he wished he could control himself when it came to things that look and smelt promising. Because soon as that icing coated his tongue, his belly grumbled with a heinous rage. Not one born from hunger, no, but rather nausea. Thankfully, Beel’s a big dude who can handle pretty much anything, so it’s not like whatever poison or foul-tasting potion that was slipped between the buttercream did him any damage (apart from ruining his mood), but nonetheless, he felt horrible and got a lengthy scolding from Belphie to boot.

He doesn’t blame you, you might’ve just messed up somewhere and that’s ok! Beel sets the rest of the cake aside with a little warning label that it made him feel ill and if it did him, it could probably kill anyone else, before scurrying off to find an actual bite to eat. Guilt did gnaw at him for a while because, normally, he’s easily able to eat anything you make since you make it with so much love! But Beel can also recognise foul play when he sees it and also comfortably assess that the icing used wasn’t mixed in the way you do it.

──────────────────────

These little instances stopped for a while, which made you foolishly believe that perhaps they learnt their lesson and decided to turn in for the better. Notus manages to surprise you once again - instead of targeting the brothers, the attention comes back to you. The original plan was; conjure up a curse on your pillow that forces you to have perpetual nightmares, which henceforth makes you irritable and hopefully slip up in front of the brothers, preferably make you so grouchy that you say something irredeemable.

What factor Notus failed to account for is the fact the brothers also LOVE your room, and a person who specifically loves stealing shit from you is Belphegor, who so unfortunately kidnapped that one pillow ridden with a curse while stumbling into your room with a drowsy head.

The House of Lamentation isn’t known for being quiet, so the bickering downstairs over breakfast overwhelmed the space per usual, but soon as those thumps of heavy footsteps echoed down the flight of stairs connected to the twin’s room - the house went eerily silent. An overly irritated Belphie ghosts into the room with darker eyebags than normal, his face hauntingly pale with a vein popping from his forehead, body limply dragging itself.

Notus felt the hairs on the back of their neck stand up as Belphie saunters behind them, looming over like an owl would a mouse before growling: “Do you always ruin the things you touch, or is this a hobby?” Belphie may be the youngest and therefore the weakest, but when it comes to anything dream and curse related, he will know exactly who’s behind it. And if you hadn’t taught him the slightest bit of mercy, he was sure Notus’ skin would serve Asmodeus as a nice handbag.

──────────────────────

Speaking of the jewel Asmodeus, Notus’ technique was much more…social sabotage based. Spreading a vile rumor around RAD that you made a disparaging comment about Asmodeus’ character was a sure fire way to get some sort of hate train going. Rumours spread fast around RAD, especially when concerning one of the Devildom’s most infamous partygoers, after all - and the drama was sure to escalate when the oddly beloved MC was involved. Notus devilishly giggled to themselves, before knocking on Asmodeus’ room, hands clasped together in faux prayer.

The door swings open to reveal Asmo adorned with silver jewellery that coiled together like moonlight kissed webs, earrings curling into shiny heart shaped crystals that he seemed to still be putting in. With a raise of a brow he smiled politely: “Yes, hon?”

“I saw the awful things MC said about you! I’m so sorry…you must be going through so much pain,” Notus sniffles, that drama class they took back in Year 9 really paying off for once. “If it’s any consolation I think you’re amazing…I mean even all your jewellery know looks like it was practically designed with your image in mind, it’s so glorious!”

Guess they took Satan’s advice after all.

Asmo is kind. Somewhat - ish…But not when it comes to people that use cheap tricks against his beloveds. Sure, the flattery was great, but appreciation is always better when it’s genuine and sincere, specifically your praise was something his vain heart sought afer. “Aw dear,” Asmodeus cooed, hands cupping Notus’ face gently, an act that makes them smile a little unnervingly. “If you knew me at all you’d know I designed these, quite recently in fact.”

Shit.

Notus felt their face heat up in embarrassment, hands suddenly clammy with sweat. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t feel so great to be caught in a scorpion’s tail. “Sweetie,” he laughs, patting Notus’s shoulder with mock sympathy. “You could never turn me against MC. They’re real, and you’re just…trying too hard, aren’t you?”

The grip on Notus’ face suddenly tightens, that orange hue in Asmodeus’ eyes tinting a more saturated shade. “Feel free to say whatever you wish about me, but utter another word about my MC, and I’ll drain your marrow and leave your bones bare of sinews.”

A not so nice reminder that bloodlust is still a form of lust.

That backfired spectacularly. Instead of you getting bombarded with hate and being shred apart in anything you posted, it was the newest exchange student that was the prime highlight of what desperation and pathetic self-esteem looked like. Comments ranged from anything like:

“Lord…this is just embarrassing for them lol”

“thanks for the tutorial on social suicide <3”

“an attempt was made…but it should’ve been with a rope.”

Much to you and the brother’s greatest dismay, the forum that was freely spouting random comments about the situation was gradually shut down under Diavolo’s leadership. He did find it the teeniest bit funny though…

──────────────────────

In naming pathetic self-esteem, a particular water dweller comes to mind: Leviathan. He was going to be a tricky one to lure (said in a hopeful manner as if the others weren’t total failures). Not particularly because he’s the third oldest, making his raw power single-handedly capable of wiping Notus away from existence. No, it was the depressing fact that he’s a recluse that seethes to himself whenever you giggle at a joke someone other than him has made.

Although, they did manage to misuse his social awkwardness to their advantage - by acting shy and nervous as they sweetly ask if they can also join the gaming session with you and him. Levi chose a multiplayer dungeon crawler, the kind where cooperation is key — and where you certainly have excelled before. Notus, however, had other plans.

Small, inconsequential mistakes didn’t bother Levi too much…you and him were good enough for the time being, but by level, these “mistakes” of theirs just spiralled uncontrollably. Taking up important loot meant for you, and even using rare healing potions on themselves at the wrong time, leaving your character on the brink of death.

“Oh no!” Notus gasped, hand to their mouth. “I didn’t mean to—uh, sorry, Levi! I guess I’m just not used to such a complicated game.” They glanced slyly at you, a smug grin creeping onto their face.

Levi frowned, his tail twitching with irritation. “It’s not that complicated,” he muttered. “You just...have to listen.” You don’t even remember when he switched into his demon form, but you can somewhat presume it was around the second the first whine gasped from their lips.

Despite their blunders, Notus managed to turn the situation into a chance for attention, constantly praising Levi in exaggerated tones. “Wow, Levi, you’re so good at this game! I mean, you basically carried us, right?” They laughed, shooting another smug glance your way. “MC must feel so lucky to have someone like you showing them the ropes.”


Levi blinked, looking between Notus and you. His face flushed, but not in the usual embarrassed way—it was frustration. “What are you even talking about?” he snapped. “MC doesn’t need me to ‘carry’ them. They’re actually good at this!”

Notus tried to backtrack, laughing nervously. “Oh, sure, sure! I didn’t mean it like that, I just—”

“Just stop.” Levi's voice was uncharacteristically firm. His eyes darted to you, softening. “MC doesn’t need someone like you pointing out their skills. They’ve already proven themselves. Unlike, uh, certain people who don’t even know how to play.”

The match ended shortly after, with Levi muttering about how “toxic noobs ruin games.” He didn’t invite Notus back for another session.

──────────────────────

Lucifer’s patience had worn thinner than a threadbare string. The complaints from his brothers about Notus's antics had escalated from minor annoyances to full-blown disruptions of their routines. Asmodeus couldn’t walk down the hallway without Notus latching on to him, Leviathan’s game nights had been interrupted by bizarre "accidental" server crashes, and even Belphegor muttered in frustration about charms slipping into his blankets to make him "dream of Notus."

Through it all, you have endured the worst of it — every petty prank, sabotage attempt, and unwelcome spell aimed at undermining your place in the Devildom. You’ve handled it with your usual grace, brushing off bruised egos and minor inconveniences with an easy smile. But this time, Notus had gone too far.

Self efficacy is quite the funny theory - the more you believe in yourself, the more likely you are to succeed. The more successes you have, the better your confidence. So how come even without that, Notus seemed to be as determined as ever to ruin your mood?

The prank seemed harmless at first—a minor tripwire spell meant to tangle your legs and leave you stumbling in embarrassment. But Notus, in their reckless desperation to make you look bad, underestimated the strength of the curse. When the trap activated, you didn’t just trip - you were violently flung forward, crashing into a jagged edge of a chair (there’s too many of them in the House of Lamentation as you just got to personally establish).

The sound of breaking wood reverberated through the house. You hit the floor hard, crimson spilling from a deep gash on your arm where wood had pierced skin. Placing your fingertips on the gush of blood pooling around the scratches, your hands webbed with red iron.

Lucifer arrived almost immediately, his presence a storm brewing in the hall. His brothers, frozen in stunned silence, stood back as he knelt to examine you. His gloved hands trembled faintly as he carefully removed the shards and inspected the various wounds that differentiated in size and depth.

Notus tried to deflect, stammering about how it was just a joke gone wrong, their confidence cracking under Lucifer’s piercing glare. “I-I didn’t mean for it to—MC is just so dramatic, they—”

“Silence.”

Lucifer’s single word was sharper than a blade, and the room fell into an oppressive silence. His wings, usually tucked away, unfurled slightly — a stark warning of the fury he struggled to contain. He rose to his full height, towering over Notus, his face a mask of cold fury.

“You’ve been a disruption from the moment you arrived, but this? This is beyond forgiveness.”

──────────────────────

Notus didn’t learn their lesson, of course. Their jealousy burned too brightly to let them stop. But this time, you’ve sincerely had had enough, and with Thirteen’s help, you concocted a poetic dose of karmic justice mingled with a touch of the classics.

Diavolo was long informed of the incident involving you previously, and further filled in on all the previous attempts of ruining both your reputation and relationship with your family. A little meeting in the RAD council room was in due order - one which all of the affected were invited for a silly show.

Lucifer stood impatiently next to a stone-faced Diavolo. You would find it slightly threatening if you didn’t know what was going to happen in just a few moments. Thirteen sat next to you, swinging back and forth on a chair as she grinned at you with every wavering gaze at one another.

And like moth to a flame, blazing with both frustration and smugness, Notus strolled on in. Well, I say stroll - I mean struggle with opening the door before they accidentally put too much pressure on the handle, leading to the doors gushing open with a far swing, and the buckets utop the bar to drop down like catharsis.

A greedy sorcerer from sorcerer’s society that just so happened to notice you when you came in one day with a few of the brother’s and Solomon the Wise himself - Notus couldn’t bare the idea that a little thing like you could swoop in and charm them so easily.

Now covered in a disgusting, webbed display of pig’s blood and some sticky consistency of water mixed with honey, Notus simply stands there, allowing defeat to settle in while the crescendo of giggles cuts deep into their pride.

“Alright alright, I’ve got enough of a laugh out of this,” you clap your hands, whispering an incantation that forces a gush of water to rain down upon them, washing away the weird concoction that coated their skin.

“Aw what, that’s no fun lol.” Leviathan pouts in the background.

“Whaaat!! What a bore…” Mammon grumbled to himself, looking away from the sopping wet dog once his eyes accidentally caught theirs.

“MC…” Notus sniffled pitifully, looking up at you through tear-stained lashes.

“Yes yes, I know,” you sigh, hands on your hips as you try your best to articulate your reasoning for this baseless morality. “This isn’t forgiveness or anything, the stuff you’ve done warrants actual apologies but hey, I’ve had a few of the demons in here attempt to kill me before,” Belphegor coincidentally looks away, “a few jabs at my reputation with failing results was honestly a little funny.”

Notus’ eyes glimmer with shiny stars and fat blobs of tears as they murmured a very simple:

“Fmnf…I love you.”

“…”

“Huh?”

[deniable-masterpiece]

Wally anon new request 4: Bottom!teacher!reader x Top!Wally where the reader happens to walk in on Wally cranking one out very. loudly in the school's most isolated bathroom & has an inner debate about saying something. They proceed to accidentally make noise, prompting Wally out of the stall (his pants poorly concealing his erection) & trying to turn on his charm before taking the opportunity he has to dominate the reader (& he gets very. sloppy with it) cause he notices how distracted they are from the entire situation.

A.D.I.D.A.S. | alive!wally clark x teacher!male!reader

a/n — yes, the title is a Korn song. sue me (please don't) fun fact: grammarly said this had 150 "premium errors"🤓☝️nerds. if i say it's late at night will that make me exempt from blame for the probable grammatical errors

summary — check the ask! basically the same build-up to the smut

warnings — smut (sooo 18+), teacher/student pairing, facefucking (Wally receiving), rimming (Wally receiving), anal sex

words — 4.7k

~~~

Only people who had nothing better to do skipped class, so that’s why Wally skipped lunch instead. At a time when he would be scarfing down the scarce protein found on the high school lunch menu and rushing to finish whatever homework he forgot to do the night before, he chose to negate all of his troubles for something more enticing. Smudges of graphite were smeared on the back of his left hand from writing an essay for your class all night and left his hand feeling sore, his head feeling too occupied to conjure up a fantasy before hauling into overdrive to stage each production required for his dreams. The underside of his hand complimented the rest as he stroked his dick, the bristling bundle of his dark pubes sprawling out over the undone flaps of his jeans pressed against his hand every time he reached the base and traveled back. It was done with the same fiery passion he had for you when you paired him with someone he openly disliked in class for a group project—for the times when you wouldn’t give him an extension because he had football or family matters. For the times when he thought that you were too stuck up and needed a hefty dose of dick to get the stick out of your ass. So now he was relieving himself in the men’s bathroom, it only seemed like a fair trade. If you got to fill his nights with readings, assignments, and studying for the next pop quiz, he got to let you take up the space in his head. He got to dampen the wad of toilet paper in his hand with the results of his endless thoughts about you.

The bathroom was expectantly dingy, painted in yellow from the incandescent bulbs buzzing out waves of it. Wally’s vibe proved to be combatant to the do-what-you-need-to-and-leave-as-fast-as-you-can mentality that this restroom evoked. It was the last one on the list for Split River’s renovations, and therefore the place that people went to the least. Cascades of shadows form a sloped line against the wall of the stall like the setting sun unevenly tilting through a set of blinds, the wall climbing higher than the black hair on Wally’s head as he leaned back against it.

He could still smell the pencil shavings on his hand, the woody scent hiding under his fingernails as he brought a hand up to his mouth, stifling a moan from releasing. He needed to tear his gaze away from his dick, his hand acting as a surrogate for either of your holes. Wally had worked himself up to the point that picturing your lecturing lips stretched wide around his dick or your hole taking all of his abuse. He became uncontrollable, ready to finish this as fast as possible. Like he was running a race on foot, only a few more steps until he was past the white and blue finish line. His feet shifted and his sneakers squeaked on the glossy finish of the floor. Another moan escaped his lips, going far beyond the white cement bricks of the bathroom and out into the hall, where you were passing by.

Hall sweeps were a common thing at Split River, and you were stuck with the west end of the building. It was already on the opposite side of the school from where your designated classroom was. You barely knew this side of the school, so you had no clue who’s classroom was supposed to be occupied and who’s wasn’t. Some people liked to duck into classes to hide from teachers, making noise that you had to assume was acceptable and just part of some class you weren’t familiar with. Thankfully, it seemed that everyone in the hall was at lunch, none of the classes offered were in session for the time being. There was no one to report on the walkie-talkie attached to your hip. At least you got to learn of bathroom locations, also known as the main hub for in-school skipping. The faculty bathroom was a few doors down and on the opposite side of the hall from the student bathrooms, the men and women’s entrances being separated by a thick brick wall but still in proximity to each other. But as you walked by them, taking your mental notes of where everything was in this corridor and which teachers resided in it, you heard a guttural moan. It was quick and quiet like a kid saying a swear word before cutting themselves off in fear of being heard, but you heard it. The moan had a tremble to it, a shakiness that sounded like desperation. You knew it was deep enough to come from the men’s bathroom, but you really didn’t want to confront a student for doing something of the sort. But it would be more awkward to let them finish and walk out, only to reveal yourself as having known about it for however long it would take them to walk out.

You had to go in, and you kept your steps light. Maybe you were wrong—you wanted to be wrong. Your eyes flew to the sinks on the left, then the urinals on the right. Nothing, no one was here and maybe you had just heard something. But then, you looked at the two stalls in the back with a sliver of space on the one side to swing open both doors and enter them. It was the space underneath showing their white and orange Nike’s that gave them away, making it clear that they had no intention of using the toilet for its intended purpose. They were backed away to the wall of the stall, and you knew that you had to beckon them out. You held your breath, thinking about what to say and if you even wanted to say anything. Would it just be better to turn around and leave? They weren’t hurting anyone but… 

Before the debate could come to a conclusion in your head, your walkie-talkie rung out, filling the bathroom with an echo of the grainy voice of another teacher. This bathroom must have been far off from the rest of the school, now that you thought about it. The kid in the stall probably wasn’t even skipping lunch, he was probably skipping a class on the other side of the school. Multiple periods for lunch overlayed with other classes to fit the entire student body into one cafeteria, you had to remind yourself, so it wasn’t a far cry from being reasonable. 

Something else that was expected was the teen in the stall finally accepting that he was caught hopefully clean-handed. You could hear fabric shifting and a soft plink ring out from something being thrown in the toilet. He flushed it and then there was the sound of a zipper being pulled back into itself. The lock on the stall was the next noise, the door swinging open after a beat. Out came Wally, a student in one of your later classes of the day after every lunch period is said and done. You considered him to be a decent student, most of his papers and in-class work earning him low B’s and high C’s. Maybe you were a harsh grader, but you really didn’t have a grasp on it yet due to this being your first year of teaching. Regardless, you didn’t expect him to be the one to walk out. You only had as much knowledge of him as he was willing to give you through fifty-four-minute classes, five days a week, for the past fifty-or-so days, but he would never do something like this. He would never be stupid enough to walk out with his boner so prominently forming a line in his jeans, either. But he kept walking towards you without letting it hinder his movement, the same swagger present in his step that he had walking into your class.

“Mr. Clark,” you sighed, taking the responsibility as it was your job to confront him. You tried to stay combobulated as he went for the sink, turning to the side to show the real size of his tent that the front couldn’t show. Crossing your arms, the pressure put on your chest exhumed the words stuck in your throat, “Shouldn’t you be in class?”

He didn’t look like he was worried about being caught, in fact, he was ready to lie his ass off. The faucet handle squeaked when he turned it off with one of his wet hands. He didn’t bother going for the paper towel dispenser less than a step away, instead, he turned to you and made the intentional choice to rub his palms over his denim to dry them. It was only for a moment, but he made sure to let his hands ghost his crotch in their proximity.

“I was just finishing up,” he decided to say, a slight shudder slipping out at the obvious satisfaction he got from his hand going over his covered shaft. Keeping it simple was the easiest way to skate by you, if you were willing to let him. Wally went to go around you, but your hand found his chest and stopped him in his tracks. His Nike’s scuffed the floor and let out a high-pitched squeak when he stopped, the dissonant symphony continuing as you used a little force to guide him back into the middle of the bathroom. He may have been on the football team, but he was in no position to fight you, not when you were closer than you had ever been to him. 

“Finishing up what? Come on, be honest and it’ll be easier for you,” you had to quote some late-night cop show for the coercive words you angled at him. You never had to do something like this—maybe you should have taken him in silence to the office. But even the quiet drawls of each breath reminded you of his visible frustration during the tests he took in your class, the consequences of his emotion you wanted to be the victim of. He had the right tools to jackhammer away at your stone-cold treatment of him, but that was mostly to act professional. You could never make it to the office.

“I think you know what it is. I don’t have to tell you.” He laughed. He leaned in closer, pushing against your hand that still hadn’t left his chest. The fabric of his plain white t-shirt underneath his staple letterman was thin and flimsy and let you feel the light definition of muscle underneath. He wasn’t a beast but he was still young, still had time to bulk up. At this moment, though, it was everything you needed it to be, “What are you gonna write me up for, Teach?”

You looked into his soft eyes, “Nothing. Just… get back to class.”

“No way, you’re staying to learn with me,” he was the one to pull away from you even if he was leaning into this absurd turn of the conversation, doing a quick turn on his heel in disbelief and gratification. He refused to leave even though you stepped aside to let him pass. “I’ll give you something to write me up for and help out my favorite teacher. Get on your knees.”

“Mr. Clark,” you protested. Speaking his name so pure and so isolated would probably make you forget about your position and that he was your student. You could get fired for this, but Wally continued regardless. It’s not like this would make him look bad. If either of you were caught like this—which was slim to none given how out of the way this bathroom was, but the mere sliver of a chance was enough to make you believe it was more than likely to happen—would boost his social credit and be spun into a sob story for him, making you look like the monster in this situation. You had power, the power to stop this and send him walking to the office and having him return to class with a lifetime’s worth of detention, but you could be Wally’s little mistake for the next twenty minutes.

“No talking while class is in session. Don’t you usually say that? It sounds so fucking stupid,” he laughed again. Wally pushed the sides of his letterman jacket behind him to open the gate for easy access to his jeans. The dark jeans had a golden button that he fooled with for a second before undoing it, and then the matching brass zipper followed in his haste. His hands were a little shaky as he did it like he needed release from working himself up beforehand. He parted the flaps of his jeans to show off a pair of solid white tights encasing his massive erection. It filled the front of his briefs to the point that it looked like it would flop out any second, and he had a dark shrub of curly pubes peeking over the waistband. There was precum leaking from the tip that caused the white fabric to become see-through and cling to the tip of his dick. It confirmed your long-forgotten suspicion that he was in the stall, masturbating. “I don’t listen to what you have to say because I want that mouth to be used for something else…”

If you hadn’t fallen to your knees by this point, the sight alone would have made you too weak to stand. You were eye-level with the tent he formed and it protruded much more than when it was hidden in the dark behind his jeans. His relaxed and casual clothing contrasted the more formal ones you had to wear, the cotton dress pants doing little against the hard linoleum. You could feel bruises already setting into your knees before the fun had even started, wondering if the purple would leak through the fabric of your pants like his precum.

“For our first lesson—we’ll be going over how to handle a big piece of meat.” His thumbs hooked into the elastic of his underwear, stretching out as he half-circled around his thighs to push down his underwear. Somehow, his dick looked bigger now that its shape wasn’t hidden by his tent. His girth matched his length to create something of a beast, something they should confiscate from him for being too dangerous. No wonder he struggled to hide it when he came out of the stall, there was no possible way to not show it when he was fully hard.

His steps toward you were a lot smoother, and a lot more coordinated now that the stiffness in his pants was finally free. It swayed from side to side with each step, drawing your attention like a teacher rounding up the class. Your entire school of thought was out the window at the hypnotic sight, all streams of consciousness flowing towards the idea of him—it was all you could think about. When he neared you, the length of his dick was the same as the distance between you. He took it into his hand, pointing it up towards the ceiling and moving closer before letting it fall down on your face and bob around.

“I know you’re new to this whole thing.” He smacked his dick over your face by holding the base. He pulled his shaft up and carelessly let it fall against your face. “But you need to learn what runs things around here, Teach.”

It was rare that Wally found himself at a loss for words, always having a remark that needed to be said—most likely in your class—but here, he had nothing to say when his dick was on the tip of your lips. The heat was pouring in and melded with your equally warm mouth, adding a wetness that could have made Wally cum then and there. His cheeks filled with air and he expelled it with disbelief. He didn’t expect your mouth to feel so good, or for you to be so good at taking him. Never would he have guessed that a teacher could be such a slut. 

He guided you slowly down his length, not to let you learn its curves and ridges and to let your mouth get used to it, no, he had to take it slow or else he would burst. He had spent a good ten minutes tugging on his dick without lotion, just the dry touch of his hand and a little spit that took him a long way and now he wanted to enjoy the massive step-up from his hand and vivid imagination to the very real feelings and sight of you sucking his dick. 

“Fuck, yeah,” he moaned and bit his lip, watching you finally bury your nose in his pubes. Looking away when you looked up at him with eyes that eagerly waited for his command, his hand slid into your hair to grab a fistful of it. He kept you at the base of his dick, softly grinding himself against your face. He needed to bury himself deeper but he was as deep as he could go. 

There was a still moment where his shaky breaths matched your quick ones ruminating over his crotch, warmth that matched what he radiated out. He reeled himself back, you could hear the imaginary tick, tick, tick in your head as every inch escaped your mouth before sliding back in faster than the first time he did it. The way his hips slowly backed away from you felt like the fleeting hope when you reached the top of a roller coaster with a steep drop, and it was plunging right into the pit forming in your stomach. He did it until a rhythm of hip swings and moans swelled. The cherry on top was the way your mouth started to fill with spit and spill out as his cock forcefully brought it out with it, only to slam some of it back in and leave the rest spilling over your chin and the sides of your mouth. You couldn’t help but get hard at the treatment, at the way he stretched out your mouth alone.

Wally heard your belt’s buckle clink against itself as you fiddled with it, being thrashed around a little too much by his fast thrusts to properly undo your belt. He stopped you just as you pulled the end of the strap out, the leather stiff and still wrapped around your waist even without it looping through the hole in the belt to tuck itself away in.

“Don’t touch yourself, dude.” He said plainly, there wasn’t a hint of teasing behind it. It was a command. His hand lightly tapped the side of your face as a reminder. It wasn’t a full-on slap, but it felt like the precursor to someone readying their aim before really committing to it—a warning.  You felt just like him, your dick straining against the looser fabric of your pants. It must have been painful to be so worked up and have to tuck it away in such an awkward position, and now he was returning the favor by not letting you find relief.

At a certain point, when your jaw started to ache and you could tell that your lips were fed up with the abuse, he pulled himself out of your mouth with a snicker and an “Oh, fuck.” He didn’t do it for you, though, he did it because one more slip into your throat and he would have coated your throat in cum like a parent trying to force cough medicine down. He knew you would’ve sputtered and probably sent him to the office regardless of this extracurricular going so well, so he had to be careful even if he wanted to defile you. Maybe if you looked more like a mess than you already do, that option would be out of the window. Your hair was ruffled by his hands raking through it and there were stains on the sides of your face—what exactly was spit caught in the crossfire of Wally’s throatfucking and what were tears at the occasional gag was unknown. 

“Now, for the next lesson.” He continued to assume power over you, letting his sloppy cock hit you in the same way as before. It left a line of your own spit across your face as if he was obsessed with waving it in front of you. He stopped fulfilling his addiction to making you a mess quickly when he turned around while keeping you in the same position, introducing you to his ass that you would also have to get acquainted with.

His jacket covered some of his butt, but he pulled it up with one hand so you could see the full thing. The thick trim at the bottom was the school colors, rounding off the curve from his ass to the small of his back and reminding you that this was an ass you would still have to see in the halls, one that you couldn’t look away from. You’d have to pay more attention at the football games, because Wally was sure to drag you to them from now on, and this was more of a sight than his front side had been. He was rather modest in size and mostly hairless around the back, a light tracing of hair revealing itself when you used your hands to part his cheeks. They filled out your hands, his ass being firm yet squishy enough to almost seep through the space between your fingers. There was more than enough to play with, but you were interested in his untouched hole.

Just like yours, Wally never had anything inserted into his hole. That is, from what you could tell. You were too busy rimming him to ask and he was too busy enjoying the feeling to give you a proper answer that wasn’t a hastily blurted-out profanity or half-slurred plea to keep going. Your jaw couldn’t seem to get a break from his torment, having to subtly move every time your tongue extended to lick around his hole. The sounds of him welling up spit in his mouth to make his dick extra slick could be heard from the other side, though you couldn’t see it happening. 

You noticed that one specific movement—particularly where you flicked your tongue up, stretching Wally’s hole and continuing to lick all the way up to the divot where his tailbone was—sent shivers down his spine. His head tilted back and his raven black hair bunched up at the collar of his jacket from above. You tried a few other tactics like licking in the opposite direction until you reached his balls, using his taint as a bridge between his hole and sack to travel down with your tongue, and laying your tongue flat over his hole to stimulate the ring of nerves in one go.

When Wally deemed his dick to be lubed up to his liking—and totally not because he could have cum from your amazing work—he pulled you away from his ass.

“Come on, I know you’re not done after that,” Wally sneered, turning around to see you, a bit breathless with sweat forming on your forehead. Your formal clothes were really doing you no favors with how your dick was trapped and you had to keep all this heat in without taking anything off. “Time for lesson number three, buddy: don’t fucking interrupt the teacher.” 

He hooked an arm under your elbow and brought you to your feet. The sudden rush was enough to make your head spin, or maybe it was the way he turned you towards the sink and was quick to lift you up onto its surface. He positioned you between the two sinks, your thighs making contact with their white porcelain as the space was barely enough for you to fit without some overlap. Finally, he let you have some freedom of movement down there. He was the one to undo your belt and pull down your pants and underwear while doing all the work for you. He sat you up against the sink, the counter having more than enough room to let you sit—and lean back—on it so that your back was touching the mirror. 

Your ass was scooted forward, allowing him to do all the lining up that was required to easily slide himself in. Given that it was your first time, the pain was very real, and the solid countertop and mirror made your writhing when his tip pierced your ass feel restrictive. He treated it the same as your mouth, slowly sinking in like he was inching himself into a pool with frigid water, the shock making him lose all composure in the best ways possible. And when he was buried as deep as he could be, he stood there, one hand on your hip and the other against the mirror. His face was impossibly close to yours, his soft eyes darkening in the shadow of the yellow light above. It cast a dark shadow to make what would usually be unassuming eyes look dark with intention. 

But then, his lips pressed to your puffy ones. They stung at the contact but the pain detracted from his gradual movements. While it started slow, it quickly became a rough fucking that rocked you back into the mirror. Wally could only take so much build-up before he could no longer hold himself back. There was another motivation too—your teaching style. Some of his thrusts were intentionally rough, and most of his actions had derived from when you paired him up with someone he found annoying and you refused to let him swap partners. For all the homework he had to begrudgingly sit down and finish instead of jerking off or doing anything he actually liked. This was his own lesson for you, and you had to sit back and take it.

This is when you were at your most vocal. He managed to stretch you out just like the syllables coming from your mouth, half-formed and incoherent and held longer than they needed to be. But they strung themselves together on the thin lines of ecstasy. He was so painful in the way that he fucked you against the mirror like you were trapped between a rock and a hard corner. Short strands of his hair separated from the rest as he bowed his head, looking at his work from above and finding pleasure in how he jackhammered into you. It was enough for you to finally shoot your load and hands-free at that. It primarily shot up at your stomach, missing your formal top by a minuscule gap. 

Wally didn’t last long after seeing you lose your composure and you found it to be adorable. He seemed like he was going to keep going—he had fended himself off long enough from cumming, but he pulled out and side-stepped over to one of the sinks on your side. You watched his hand just barely reach his dick in time to aim it into the sink and spray his load out in strands all over the shiny white surface. He kept pumping, drops of white dribbling over his dick and into his hand with each tug.

The bell rang and that let Wally know that his lunch period was finally at an end. Forty minutes had never gone by so fast for him. He fixed himself back up and left you weak on the counter, presumably to clean up his mess that was left in the sink.

“Your homework is to clean that up for me. And make sure you look good for later today.” Wally smirked and patted your thigh, “See ya in class, Teach.”

His squeaky shoes stopped once he reached the hall and you heard the pitter of his steps fade away. And you were left in the bathroom with a voice fighting through the grain on your walkie, announcing that the lunch period had ended and you were needed to supervise the next group of students having their meals. At least you were more than satisfied with the five-course meal you just got handed and your hall-sweeping duties were over.

[cinnawonbabe]

ATTENTION, PLEASE! (1)

pairings: professor!heeseung x student fem!reader

warnings: teacher x student relationship, forbidden affairs, smut, oral, both receiving, anal play, praise and spankings, legal age gap

overview: y/n was just like any other college girl, crushing on the young and attractive literature professor at the university she attended. one day she’s asked to come back after class and things get a little steamy. who knew being a teacher’s pet was fun?

taglist 🏷️: @nayeoniiz @mheretoreadff @deobitifull @riribelle @jakeswifez @yohanabanana @fkarchve @1013club @rizz00 @kpopjackie @isagistar @wheretheheckis-ssaki @freaky-enhamadswriter @manuosorioh

SORRY IF YOU ASKED FOR A TAG AND DIDN’T GET IT. I COULDN’T TAG MOST BECAUSE YOUR ACCOUNT WAS NOT POPPING UP FOR ME. PLEASE ENJOY! IF THIS DOES WELL AND GET 400 NOTES, I’LL POST A PART TWO!!

it was the first day back from spring break and to say y/n was excited was an understatement. she was overjoyed to see her friends again. while she was getting ready for her first class of the day, literature, and finishing the last touches to her makeup, her friend winter called. y/n answered, putting the phone on speaker so she could multitask talking and finishing getting herself ready.

"girl where are you? class is about to start," winter whisper-yelled through the phone. y/n checked the time, seeing that she was in fact behind schedule.

"fuck, i'm gonna be late," she said, rushing to put her shoes on. after making sure her uniform was neat, she grabbed her bag and phone before running out the door.

"and who are you trying to look cute for?" winter joked with a laugh upon y/n switching the call over to a facetime.

"no one. i just felt the need to dress up today. is the professor there?" she answered while speed walking over to the building her class was held in.

"no. they haven't arrived yet, so you're lucky for once," winter said with a laugh. "hurry though, i saved you a spot," she added and y/n hummed in response as she approached the building.

she made her way inside, picking up her pace so she wouldn't be that late, but ultimately made it to class.

"fucking finally. you're here," winter laughed, taking her bag off the seat next to her for y/n to sit in. "still no professor?" y/n asked and winter shrugged not knowing herself.

you know, after 15 minutes, if a teacher hasn't arrived to class after the set time has passed, class is canceled?" one male student in the back stated.

y/n turned back to see it was one of the football players. most students got to talking with excitement as it was getting close to that 15 minute mark while others were upset that they didn't get to see the professor today, y/n was one of the students who was pretty bummed out.

just when some students were packing up their supplies, the classroom door opened up.

professor lee heeseung rushed in class. "sorry for the wait guys. i was in an important staff meeting about the fair we're having for the homecoming events next week and we kind of got carried away." he said in between breaths.

he took off his blazer and set it down on the podium that was situated in the front of the room. he rolled up his sleeves. "anyone else feeling a bit hot or is that just me?" he asked, chuckling to himself.

all the girls, including y/n, couldn't help but stare at him. watching him intently.

he has to know what he's doing. he just knows how attractive he is. y/n thought to herself.

"no it's hot in here sir. me and my friends think the air conditioning unit has stopped working." one female student stated.

heeseung nodded his head in acknowledgement, "oh i see. i'll have to make a complaint about that later. let me write that down so i don't forget." he said walking over to his desk situated in the corner of the room.

he pulled out a sticky notepad from one of his drawers and grabbed a pen from the cuphold on the desk and scribbled a mental note to himself there.

"okay, considering i was way behind my schedule. i'm going to give you all a break and just let you either stay here to make up work or you can just leave. it's completely up to you all." heeseung said, looking around the classroom after he placed the notepad back on his desk.

most students didn't hesitate to collect their things and bid heeseung goodbye or thank him for his kindness.

of course he smiled and bid those goodbye before turning his attention back to the few students that did decide to stay. which consisted of a two male students, one being a literature major and the other that just so happened to be asleep and the rest we girls that just wanted an excuse to stare at the professor.

"assuming that you all are here for help and to catch up on work so feel free to ask me any questions, okay?" he said once more before heading back to his desk.

y/n watched his backside as he headed to his desk and wondered what his back muscles looked like under his dress shirt. once he sat down he looked back towards the class, catching y/n stare. she imma looked down in embarrassment and busied herself with her studies, not catching the little smirk that made his way on his face.

y/n felt movement beside her and looked over to see her seatmate fixing herself up before calling out to the professor. "professor lee? i need help on one of the older assignments you gave. can you give me a but of assistance with it?" y/n heard her ask.

he nodded and signaled for her to come to his desk and so she did. getting up from her seat, swaying her hips purposely in the process.

she bent over his desk, showing her cleavage to him as she placed her paper down for 'help'.

that's usually how things goes. most girls go out there way to get his attention but from all the things y/n has seen, it doesn't seem to work. he wasn't phased by it and just gave her the help she needed before he sent her back to her seat.

another girl failed. y/n of course hasn't. in fact, she never tried to because she was too scared and too shy to even hold a conversation or even ask him for help but that never stopped him from trying to talk to her.

he had taken an interest in calling on her sometimes for questions she never volunteers herself from.

usually that would end up with her stuttering to answer it or having her frozen from being put on the spot.

after a while of sitting in a somewhat silent classroom, heeseung cleared his throat, gaining everyone's attention. "attention everyone class is just about over and my next class will be here soon." he stated, looking at his wristwatch.

everyone packed up their things and headed out of the class. y/n was just about to leave before she was stopped by heeseung's voice suddenly calling out to her.

y/n stopped where she was near the classroom door, turning to him as he sat at his desk. "yes, professor lee?" she asked. he motioned for her to come to him, waving his hand in a signaling gesture. she was hesitant at first, she wasn't sure if she should or not. she swallowed her own pride and made her way over to him.

"so i wanted to talk to you to see if you'd like to help me later with gathering things for the art and theatre club. they'll be doing most of the creative work and i promised the directors that i'll head to the storage area in the left wing and get the supplies they needed. i can't do it myself, so would you like to help a poor old man like me?" he asked with pleading eyes.

y/n was a bit speechless as to why he chose her out of all people. he wants me to help him? she thought to herself. there was no way out of all the girls in this class, he chose her. she stood there unresponsive for a bit, lost in her own thoughts. it began to worry him a little bit from her sudden quietness. "it's okay if you don't want to i can always just ask-" he couldn't finish his sentence as y/n interrupted him with a slightly raised voice. "no!"

she realized the tone and volume of her voice and felt hot from the embarrassment. she didn’t notice the change in his demeanor, a slight smirk appearing on his face knowing his plan was working.

"uhm i meant no it's okay professor lee, i can help you. i don't mind at all!" she stated a bit too eagerly.

she mentally cursed at herself because of it but nonetheless, heeseung didn't seem to mind. "great!! just meet me back here around 7pm, okay?" he smiled softly, causing y/n’s heart to flutter. he definitely knows the effect he has on her.

she nodded her head in agreement before flashing him a small smile in return. “yes sir,” she retorted before walking out the classroom door. she was lost in her thoughts once again, geeking over the fact that he wanted alone time with her. this was truly a dream come true.

her thoughts soon interrupted by her best friend winter spooking her, “hey!” winter yelled a little bit as she approached her. y/n grabbed her chest as she calmed herself down. “my bad, didn’t mean to scare you,” winter joked before bursting out into a fit of giggles, earning a slap on the arm from her friend. “that’s not funny win,” y/n stated, rolling her eyes playfully as she walked off with winter following close behind her. “so what was that all about?” she asked, jumping in her face as she interrogated her. y/n gently pushed her back, smiling wide as the scene replayed in her mind. even though it just happened moments prior to this conversation, she couldn’t help but reminisce about how he chose her. winter nudged her, bringing her back to reality. “soooo are you going to tell me why hot stuff over there held you back?” she questioned again but y/n only giggled in response, causing her bestie to groan at in annoyance. “its nothing really, he just wants me to help him with something for theatre class and i told him i would,” she replied honestly.

winter stared at her intensely, looking for any glimmer of doubt. she was trying to see if she was lying to her or not. y/n stared back at her clueless as to why her best friend was seemingly trying to intimidate her for some reason. is she jealous? she thought. ultimately, winter shrugged it off. i guess she was being truthful. “well good luck and make sure you use a condom, i’m not ready to be an auntie just yet,” she laughed, nudging her friend. y/n’s eyes widened upon hearing those words leave her mouth. before she could smack her friend, winter took off running, satisfied with the reaction she got from her bestie. y/n followed shortly behind, yelling out threats to her friend as she did so.

__________________________

time seemed to have moved on so fast. it was already 7pm and y/n was making her way back to professor heeseung’s classroom. i hope this doesn’t look suspicious. she was having second thoughts. maybe this was a bad idea. she didn’t want to get caught up in something that wasn’t true, even though she wished it was. she didn’t want people to think she was having a secret affair with her teacher, but then again she didn’t actually mind it at all. she longed for him to caress her ever so gently. she wanted to feel his lips against her own but who didn’t? every girl on campus wanted a piece of him but can you blame them? he’s in his late twenties teaching hormonal nineteen and twenty year olds. a lot of his students were fresh out of highschool so seeing a young professor was like winning the lottery.

eventually she made it towards his classroom door, peering inside. it was dark and the only form of light was coming from the hallway where she stood. she scanned the room as best as she could but there was no sign of him. maybe he had forgotten. as she was about to walk away she ran face first into something or someone. she looked up and was face to face with heeseung himself. oh god. she thought. a light blush painted her face as she realized how close they were so she took a few steps back. “sorry, i should’ve been paying more attention to where i was going,” she apologized, her eyes averting her vision everywhere but his.

the view was astonishing to him. their slight height difference boosted his ego. it empowered him. he knew exactly what he what he was doing. y/n was timid and kept to herself. she wasn’t like the other girls he taught.

everyday a female student would force themselves onto him any chance he got. he was used to all the attention he gotten. he may not have shown it but he did enjoy it. so it was weird that y/n never seemed to try. he knew she found him attractive but she never seem to give him the time of day. so he started making moves. calling on her during class even though she never raised her hand, taking initiative to talk to her after class whenever he could because he knew it made her heart race. the innocence she portrayed had drawn her in. it was something he had to obtain, more so, alter it. he wanted her to be his, to hold, to control. that’s exactly how they ended up here. he falsified the ‘i need help’ teacher act. he knew she would fall for it. she was oblivious to it all.

he stared at her for a moment before he spoke, “it’s okay, i was just heading in,” he stated before moving passed her and towards the door. he unlocked it and entered the room, holding the door open for her. “are you joining me still?” he asked tenderly, his voice soft and sweet. it made her heart skip a beat. he was pure gold to her. a soft hearted, well-mannered, absolutely beautiful, educated and elegant man was spending alone time with her. she was head over heels for him.

she hummed in response and followed in right behind him. upon entering he closed the door, discreetly locking it without her noticing and flicked on the lights. “i hope you don’t mind, i have to gather up a few paperwork before we head that way, is that fine?” he asked, making his way towards his desk. he sat down, picking up groups of scattered papers that sat disorganized on his desk. he neated placed them into piles before putting them in his briefcase that he brought with him. y/n walked closer, gazing over at him. she watched

him quietly, fiddling with her fingers as she did so. she couldn’t help but think about what winter said earlier. imagining her professor fucking her on this desk right now.

images of him pounding into her core flushed her mind, making her core leak from the slight horniness that had taken over her. she was so lost in thought she couldn’t hear heeseung calling out to her. he then cleared his throat, finally gaining her attention. she looked up at him, face flustered. she looked absolutely stunning to him; no, beautiful actually. he wanted to ruin her. “you’re one of my best students?” he asked, getting up from his seat and walked over to the front of his desk where he leaned up against it.

she was dumbfounded, “i am?” she asked innocently, her brows furrowed slightly in confusion. heeseung found it adorable, she really didn’t have a clue in the world. “precisely. you’ve never been the type to throw yourself at me. that’s what i like about you,” he continued, making her all flustered again. he truly was enjoying this moment right now. “i’m just not the kind of girl. you’re my teacher not a love interest,” she said truthfully, but he didn’t like that response. he knew better than that and so did she. they both wanted each other more than anything right now.

he began to loosen his tie, then slowly unbuttoned his dress shirt. “is that really how you feel?” he asked, finally pulling his shirt open, revealing his toned abdomen. she stared in awe as she watched him strip in front of her. his shirt sliding off his shoulder and falling to the ground. her eyes trailed down his figure. he was a sight to see that’s for sure. she noticed a tent forming in his pants and she audibly gasped unintentionally. a smirk appeared on his lips. gotcha. he thought.

she didn’t know how to react in this very moment. what was she supposed to do? her very attractive literature teacher was standing shirtless in front of her. that’s every girl on campus dream and yet here she was living it.

“i-i don’t know if this is appropriate professor,” she stuttered, averting her gaze towards the floor. she stared at her sneakers until another pair of shoes came into view. she froze. too scared to look up now knowing how close he was to her. he took his hand and gently tilted her head upward so they were facing each other. she gulped, now meeting eyes with a different side of her professor. and truth be told, she was enjoying every second of it. “i want you more than anything right now,” he said, disregarding her previous statement of whether this was appropriate between the two. he didn’t care. nine years wasn’t that big of an age gap for him. she was nineteen and he was twenty- eight years old. how bad could this be?

he looked her in her eyes, searching for any sign he needed to know what his next move was. there it was, like a flicker. he smiled mischievously, pondering his next move but was surprised by her crashing her lips onto his.

she kissed him hungrily. she couldn’t hold it any longer. she needed him right now.

heeseung snaked his arm around her, grabbing her thighs to signal her to jump. she did, jumping into his embrace and wrapping her legs around his waist as their lips danced in one another.

he carried her to his desking, next faltering this kiss. he sat her on the edge, slipping his tongue in her mouth and explore every crevice of it. she moaned into the kiss, sucking on his tongue as he fiddled with the hem of her shirt. he broke the kiss, pulling her shirt over her head, taking it off and tossing it on the floor.

y/n took that time to catch her breath before he smashed his lips back on to hers. she grabbed his belt loosening it up but before she could pull them down he stopped her, grabbing ahold of her hands, “not so fast baby, lets take it slow.”

she whined, disappointed and desperate. he laughed, placing a small and shirt kiss on her lips. he unclipped her bra, sliding it off her. her breasts we plumped and perky. just how he liked them. he attached his mouth to one breast, sucking and swirling his tongue around her nipple. she bit back a few moans that threatened to slip out. she felt elastic. she knew what they were doing was so wrong but it felt so right. the adrenaline rush she got from this turned her on more. at any given moment they could be caught by anyone, a dean, a security guard, or a fellow student passing by.

she didn’t care at all, it thrilled her actually. fueling her desires even more. she watched and he alternated between each of her breast, leaving love bites all over her chest before proceeding to kiss down to the hem of her skirt, he didn’t care to take those off, he wanted to fuck her in her cute little uniform skirt so he pushed them up to get a better view of her leaking core.

a small chuckle left his lips upon seeing how soaked her panties were just from them kissing. she felt a little embarrassed hearing him laugh and tried to shut her legs but he stopped her from doing so. “don’t hide baby, she’s beautiful. let’s she was she looks like without these in the way,” he reassured her, sliding her pantines to the side to get a better look and her dripping core.

her little cunt made him go crazy. he looked up at her as he licked between her flaps. the warmth of his tongue sent shivers down her spine. he placed small kisses on her clit, edging her on. he wanted to tease her and have her begging for more.

y/n was too impatient and grabbed a fistful of his hair, shoving his face into her leaky cunt, heeseung obliged, giving her what she wanted. he began to eat her out, sucking on her clit and flicking his tongue in a way that made her toes curl. soft moans escape her mouth but she didn’t care. everything felt so good right now. place her legs above his shoulders and started to slowly grind against his face. the pleasure building up as she felt ecstatic. she threw her head back, moaning loudly as she continued to hump his face. he watched her as she got closer to her climax, he took two of his digits and plunged them deep into her pretty little cunt.

a loud gasp was heard from her, feeling his fingers deep inside him. he thrusted them faster, curling them as he hit her sweet spot, earning beautiful moans from y/n. he absolutely loved it. he was marking what was rightfully his. he continued his pace as she grew closer to her climax. he sucked a little harder on her clit, humming, sending vibrations to her core. a familiar pit grew in her stomach.

she was close, so so close and couldn’t contain it any longer. she screamed, forgetting where she was for a moment. her back arching as she squirted into his mouth, causing him to choke a little bit as her juices hit the back of his throat. she rode out her orgasm and she grinded on his face more before falling back onto his desk breathless.

heeseung stood up, dropping his pants to the floor as he looked down at her tired little figure laying on his desk. “we’re not finished yet, angel,” he said, stroking his long and thick member in his hand. she looked up, her eyes widened. there was no way in hell that was going to fit in her. “can daddy have some head baby?” he asked softly and she nodded, getting off his desk and kneeling before him. he cooed, watching her doe eyes stare up at him. he was loving this view of her better. she parted her lips slightly as he began to slap his cock against her face.

“open your mouth wide baby,” he instructed and she obliged, parting her lips more as s

he slid his cock right in. his breath hitched in his throat. the warmth of her mouth engulfing his seven inches did something to him. he let her take control, watching her bob her head on his thickness, taking every inch and girth of his cock. “yes baby. just like that. you’re doing so good for me,” he praised, encouraging her more. she forced herself to deep throat him, gagging as she did. he grunted at the feeling of her throat hugging his member, her gagging made the feeling even better.

her eyes started to brim with tears as his cock hit the back of her throat, drool dripping down her chin.

she took her hand and stroked him while sucking him off. this pleasure alone could’ve made him cum but he was determined to last. he grabbed her by her hair, pulling her off him to keeping him for cumming then and there. she winced from the harsh grip but didn’t stop it. she liked how rough he was getting. it turned her on even more.

he bent down crashing his lips onto hers. he didn’t care that she just had his cock in his mouth, he was a real man like that. kissing her hard and tasting himself on her before he pulled back. “open your fucking mouth!” he exclaimed, and she did without hesitation. he spit in her mouth and she swallowed it so effortlessly. “you like that my nasty little slut?” he asked and she whined in response.

he slipped his cock back into her mouth, fucking her throat hard, she choked out a cry around his member. he didn’t care. he kept fucking her mouth hard and deep, moaning loudly. “fuck just like that baby,” he said once more. he felt his climax coming soon so he pulled right back out. “bend over my desk,” he ordered. she got up slowly, her legs wobbling a bit. he couldn’t help but laugh, “don’t laugh,” she pouted and he cooed at her, he helped her lay her stomach flat onto his desk, her bottom side completely exposed.

he bit his lip at the sight in front of him, rubbing his hands against her firmly plumped ass cheeks. he needed to mark them. he took his big hand and smack down on her ass hard, causing a scream of pain and pleasure from y/n. this was all so new to her. she never knew she’d like being treat like a fuck toy by her hot professor. he brought a side of her she didn’t know she possessed. he lashed at her ass a few times, the classroom echoing from skin slapping and cries coming from y/n. who knew being a teacher's pet could be so fun.

handprints now decorated her ass and he was more that pleased to know that it was because of him. only he could have her like this.

he positioned himself at the entrance of her core, “spread for me baby,” he told her softly. she reached back, grabbing her ass cheeks and spread them open; giving him more access to come right on in. he spat between her crack, using his dick to wipe it down towards her cunt before sliding the tip in. they both moaned out in pleasure upon contact.

she felt every bit of his cock slide into her tight little cunt before he bellowed out. his whole member filled her to the brim. he sat there for a moment, letting her adjust to his size before he began to move. slowly thrusting in and out of her, he pace precise and steady.

the desk began to squeak against the floor as he thrusted harder than before, yelps of pleasure falling from her lips. he was digging into her guts. it felt like his tip was touching the inside of her stomach. her moans encouraging him to go harder. he dugges his cock deeper into her, her ass clapping against his skin. the room filled with the sounds of them fucking. he hoped they wouldn’t get caught but parts of him did. he wanted people to see the whore he was making out of her. he wanted people to know who she belonged to. he felt her wet cunt hug his girth, bringing both of them to their high, he fucked her harder, sliding his thumb in her ass. she screamed once more from the unexpected intrusion. fuck. he thought.

the pleasure was becoming too much for her, she couldn’t handle it any longer. both her holes were filled, a sensation she never knew she needed. “fuck baby i’m gonna cum,” he said and she could only moan out incoherent nonsense in response. that drove him nuts. he picked up his pace, fucking her to her climax. she cried out loud as the pleasure was unbearable and came hard once again.

this drove heeseung to his climax as well, cumming deep and hard into her. they hadn’t worn a condom. his cum filling her deep and oozing out with every little thrust he gave before him finally pulled out. he placed a kiss on her back before watching his thick load spill right out of her cunt. he didn’t care that they didn’t play it safe. to be honest, baby didn’t sound that bad to him. she was stuck with him regardless.

he reached over to the tissue box on his desk and began to clean her up and help her get dressed before dressing himself. she sat back up on his desk, her makeup ruined from all the sweat and tears she indured with getting her brains fuck out.

“you’re mine princess, got it?” he stated, pulling her close. she tiredly hummed in response, too warn out to say a word. a small smile formed on both of their faces before they snuck back out and went their separate ways.

the next day rolled around and y/n was heading to class where she met up with winter. “so how was it?” winter asked, and y/n furrowed her brows. “how was what?” she asked and winter laughed.

“how was it when you sucked his dick?” she joked, causing y/n to freeze. how did she know? did someone see us? she thought. winter nudged her friend. “i’m just joking god. i know nothing happened. you don’t have it in you to do something of that nature,” winter assured her, causing her to relax again. she didn’t know after all. y/n laughed, “i don’t think i could ever do anything like that,” she lied.

their conversation was cut short upon professor heeseung entering the class room. “good morning everyone!” he greeted, and most of them greeted back. him and y/n locked eyes momentarily, causing her to blush and look away before he began today’s lesson.

winter grew a little suspicious of that little encounter but said nothing.

if only she knew what was to come in the near future.

THE END!!

[inhogf]

Lee Byung Hun, ur teacher [2]

part 1 here · contains: him as ur teacher, smut, p in v sex in classroom, choking, spanking, age gap (reader is a student, byung hun in mid 50s) 1.5k words

“you're sleeping with mr. byung hun, are you not?“ this was practically an ongoing joke between you and your friends, all of them giggling, unable to restrain their crazed and exaggerated expressions as one of them held your test paper in their hand. it was amazing, really— going from failing most of your tests to straight A's in calculus. without a helping hand, as you'd tell them.

you wouldn't want everyone to know you were slutting yourself out to your teacher for bonus marks, would you?

were you doing that only for some extra credit?

the classroom was fairly quiet in a bit, save for the sound of mr. byung hun's marker gliding across the whiteboard. he was halfway through solving a complicated integral when your friend passed you a note: ’correct him so we know y'all arent having sex. xoxo ♡’. it made you snicker at her, before you raised your hand.

“uhm, mr. byung hun, you totally messed that up,” you said, tone dripping with feigned condescension. you leaned back in your chair, arms crossed. you were always a little rebel, weren't you? how could byung hun forget? “you forgot to distribute the negative. kind of embarrassing for a teacher.”

oh you were bold. you caught him off-gaurd. he never would've known you'd act like such a brat after he only fucked you once; it amused him to say the least. you enjoyed riling him up, taunting him despite his frustrated grumbles and groans and the obvious bulge in his pants. he'll roll his eyes at you; something the class caught on to; attempting to hold himself back from admiring and touching your adorable body.

“let's see, shall we?“ he exhaled, stepping aside to rework the equation. the room grew tense as he went through each step on the board, taking his sweet, sweet, time.

“ah, turns out, i didn't forget anything. you, however, overlooked the substitution rule. this part," he'd say, unfazed as a subtle smile crept up his lips, circling the equation. "—is where you went wrong."

the class stirred with soft gasps and muffled laughter. byung hun paused, walking up to face you, before crossing his arms. your cheeks were burning up. not because of the embarrassment, no— but because of byung hun. he'd punish you. you made him thrilled.

“detention after school for you, stay in my class afterwards. feel free to brush up on substitution rules while you’re at it, you'll need them for the test next week.“

you were a brat begging to be tamed; but byung hun had self-control, able to hold himself back from re-enacting his fantasies onto you right in front of all his students. the hunger that festered in the pit of his stomach, beating with an erratic pulse and growing in restlessness. he has to push back the hanging reminder that he was hard, dick pressed against his suit trousers with a leaky tip. you'd think he'd have a hard time getting his dick up, his aging evident from the way the corners of his eyes crinkle every time he smiled— but no, all it took was you teasing him in front of his class.

it wasn't long before byung hun's hands slid down to your ass as the last of his students left the class, pulling you flush up against him, the raw intensity of his emotions— the restraint he had let go of, the vulnerability he now laid bare.

“you know what you were fuckin’ doing to me back there, yeah?“ he wasted zero time in shifting his belt open, tugging a finger to the waistband of his boxers as he fumbled his dick out; making it spring up and slap against his abdomen before taking his shirt off. anger filled his veins today, and he decided he'd needed to take this anger out into someone. more specifically, you. “you need to be punished.“

you don't mind. your gaze was smitten to his contoured body— his chiseled chest, huge shoulders that are the perfect leverage, his.. huge dick; so so perfect for his age. was he on steroids? that's insane. byung hun kept himself somewhat shaven, as you noticed. he doesn't have a lot of hair, but he has a trail of black hair running up his sturdy abdomen, as well as around his crotch. pretty little thing, you'd think to yourself before your teacher snapped you out of your thoughts.

“up, baby,“ byung hun said oh so hushed, pulling you up by your ass and bending you over on his desk— pages of assignments flying everywhere. his fingers would rub against the wet patch of your panties, tracing your folds and oggling at them. practically drooling as he tore your panties off. he spread your soft folds with such expertise while looking between your eyes and your pussy, begging to push inside. it made you wonder, how many women had he fucked before? did he even have a wife? kids?

his thick cock sat stiff in front of your pussy, tip so red and garbles of pre-cum drooled at the sight of your bare pussy spread out for him. it's hard to get used to the feeling of being pried open and split apart by byung hun, the splitting sensation of his boner being pushed into you. his hands would wander all over your bare, naked skin. so so so greedy. he wanted to have you whole; not knowing where to touch your body next. he pushed deep into your slit and let out breathless, guttural groans. taking him was painful, the sheer length of him foreign to your organs. you've only ever had sex with, what, two men? and both their dicks were tiny.

“i'm risking going to jail for you, slut..“ he snapped his hips forward, a gasp escaping your puffy lips as he bottomed out in the first thrust. byung hun held a finger to your bottom lip, before the hand trailed down your chin and grabbed onto your neck from behind, pressing it to restrict your airflow. it was such a tight, snug fit. it had you squirming. he left zero spaces open to waste inside your pussy. no holes for even air to fucking enter. your pussy was stretched to the max by his big fucking cock, your juices dripping down your thighs to the wood of his desk, wetting them. “so good, daddy..“

each thrust he made with his hips caused a grunt to slip from his throat. he huffs, groans out at the sensation against his covered bulge. “you're a needy thing, you know that?” he chuckles when he sees your fucked-out eyes, beyond desperation as your orgasm pools at your sweet cunt, desperate for release.

“s-so big-!“ you’re a whore, a blubbering mess, both legs hooked around his hammering hips whilst your arms kept a tight grip on his burly shoulders. you whine, mouth open as moans and ‘more's’ pour from it. his dick continues rutting into you, splitting your pussy apart in such an animalistic way it had you seeing stars— a pool of steam gathering down at your lower abdomen.

you were certain an orgasm on the brink edge of releasing was close, but when he spanks your ass as punishment, all it did was make him even hotter. “자기야 [baby].. you take my cock so well, but can't handle a slap? you need a roughening up, my dear...“

and the way his accent turns more prominent against your ear and his hot breath against your neck, it was all too much for a dumb, crying thing like you— unable to control the way your pussy uncontrollably clutches onto him, forcing him to shoot his potent, hot load of inside your puffy hole.

“i'm gonna.. fuck— i'm cumming..“ byung hun said as his pretty eyes grew half-lidded, strands of sweaty hair falling to his forehead as he shut his eyes completely, ropes of thick cum squirting from his still-swollen tip as he pumps you full. so full in fact, that he's actually pumping his cum out of you because you’re overflowing with his seed.

and once byung hun was done fucking a brain-numbing orgasm out of you, and fucked his own deep into your womb, he'd settle you down on his chair, your head lolled to the side as he finished slipping his softening dick back into his boxers— his eyes admiring your pretty state. you were so adorable like this.

his phone would ring as he fixed his tie, the contact reading ’Principal’ as you giggled to yourself— you knew he was in trouble all because of you. ♡

cr @inhogf dont steal

[chrissssssmut]

winter aespa school student president x male loser reader smut?

DETENTION

School President Winter x Loser Male Reader

AN: I've got so much time now! I am currently on a break from my work which explains the everyday upload! Love y'all!♥️

It was almost 5:00 PM. The school hallways were long emptied out—no chatter, no squeaking shoes, no slam of lockers. Just silence.

Except for Classroom 2-C.

You were still in there, sitting awkwardly in the back row, tapping your pencil against the desk and glancing toward the front of the classroom. And there she was. Still there, arms crossed, standing by the board like she ran the entire building.

Because she did.

“Still spacing out?” Winter said, voice clipped, authoritative. “It’s no wonder your grades are in the gutter.”

You sat up straighter immediately. “I—I’m not spacing out. I’m just… I thought detention was over by now.”

She slowly turned to face you fully, blazer pressed, school emblem pinned over her chest, and a little clipboard in her hand.

“Oh?” she stepped down from the podium. Heels clicking. "You thought? That's funny, considering you barely think at all during class. Late three times this week. Homework—missing. And I hear from Ms. Choi you were dozing off during her lecture.”

You rubbed your neck, cheeks heating. “I mean… yeah, but—”

“Enough.” Her voice sliced through your excuse.

You didn’t dare talk back. Not to her. Kim Minjeong, aka Winter, was a legend. Student council president. Top of every class. Ice-cold, terrifying, beautiful.

She stepped closer.

"Everyone else has left," she said softly. Her voice changed—calmer, but still in control. “But you? You’re staying.”

Your breath caught. “Why…?”

“Because I’m not finished with you yet.”

Winter looked down at you, her arms finally relaxing to her sides. Then she reached into her skirt pocket and slowly pulled out something small, lacy—

Your brain froze.

Pink panties.

Your eyes widened.

“W-what—are those—”

“Mine.” She twirled them on her finger casually. “They’ve been in your bag all day, haven’t they? You think I didn’t notice?”

You panicked. “I-I didn’t steal them, I swear! Someone must’ve planted them—”

Her hand suddenly pressed against your desk, leaning in close. Her cold, unreadable face just inches away. "You didn’t steal them?" she whispered. “Then why are they wet, loser?”

Your mouth dried. “I-I didn’t—”

Winter smirked—just barely. “You're such a pervert. Always staring when you think I don't see. Always so quiet, so obedient... You act like I don’t know every single filthy thought in your head.”

Your cock twitched in your pants.

She saw it. Of course she did.

And instead of being disgusted, Winter... smiled.

“You like this, don’t you?” she asked. “Being put in your place by your school president. Having me hold your detention hostage while you sit there with your cock getting hard in your pants like a dog.”

You bit your lip.

She raised the panties to your face and let them rest across your cheek. "They were on me this morning. I wore them in every council meeting, every class. And now they're here. With you.”

Then she slid them down… down to your lap. Rubbed them across your bulge slowly, carefully.

You shuddered.

“Fuck,” you whispered.

She tilted her head, tone mockingly sweet. “What was that?”

“...I like it.”

She smiled again. “Good boy.”

Then Winter moved like a switch flipped. She grabbed your tie, yanked you forward, and kissed you. No hesitation, no testing the waters—just full lips, soft scent, hot breath, and a tongue that claimed your mouth like it was hers.

When she pulled back, a thin string of spit connected you.

She walked back toward the teacher’s desk, sat on it, and spread her legs.

Her skirt was still on. But no panties now. Just skin underneath, smooth and soft and wet. Your mouth hung open.

“Crawl,” she said. “Come here.”

You didn’t even hesitate.

Your knees hit the floor. You crawled down the aisle between desks like a pathetic little pet and knelt in front of her. Her shoes brushed your sides as she opened her legs wider.

Winter leaned back on her hands, biting her bottom lip slightly. "Look at you. All that quiet loner act, and now you’re on your knees for me. Such a good little loser."

You swallowed hard. “Can I taste…?”

She looked down her nose at you. “Beg for it.”

“Please…” you murmured, breath shaky. “Please, President… I want to taste you so bad…”

“Of course you do.” She slid forward on the desk, pussy now inches from your lips. “Now shut up and show me you’re worth the breath it takes to keep you around.”

You dove in.

She tasted sweet and sharp, hips jerking just slightly as your tongue flicked across her folds. She grabbed your hair, fingers laced tight, forcing your face deeper. Your nose was buried in her as you licked her slit, circled her clit, sucked when she gasped.

“F-fuck—mmph… just like that,” she muttered. “God, you’re so good with that tongue, aren’t you? Knew you’d be good for something.”

You moaned against her.

The panties she left on your lap were now stuffed into your hand—and you used them to jerk yourself off, the scent of her soaking them while her taste coated your mouth.

Suddenly—her grip tightened.

"Stop."

You froze.

Her eyes were cold again. “You don’t come until I say so. Got it?”

“Y-yes.”

She stood up, fixed her skirt. Walked over to your desk. “Sit.”

You stumbled to your feet, pants around your ankles, dick throbbing hard.

Winter sat on your lap facing you, straddling, her pussy rubbing right over your tip.

“Been thinking about this for weeks,” she muttered. “Watching you squirm in the back row, hiding your hard-ons like I don’t see them. Wondering what your cock would feel like.”

You groaned. “Please—”

She cut you off by sliding down.

Just like that—tight, wet heat wrapped around your cock.

You choked out a breath. “F-fuck—Winter—President—”

Her eyes rolled back for a second. “God… you are thick…”

Then she began to move.

Slow, deep, grinding strokes that made the desk creak. Her skirt hiked up around her waist, your hands desperately grabbing her hips as she rode you like she owned every inch.

She leaned in close again, lips brushing your ear. “You like when your school president’s pussy’s wrapped around your cock?”

“Yes—fuck, yes—”

“You like when I fuck you like I own you?”

"Please—keep going—"

She moaned, breath hot. “Keep talking like that and I might let you come.”

Just as you felt your release creeping up—

Click.

The doorknob turned.

You both froze.

Outside: heavy footsteps.

A voice. “Hello? Anyone still in here?”

Your eyes went wide.

Winter didn’t move.

“Don’t you dare make a sound,” she whispered, her pussy still squeezing you inside her.

“Security,” the man outside called. “Classroom check.”

Winter leaned forward and bit your neck. Hard. Your mouth opened in a silent scream.

Her hips slowly moved again. Riding you. While a grown man stood just outside the door.

She whispered, “Keep it together. Be a good little fucktoy. Don’t spill until I say.”

The security guard rattled the knob once more… then moved on.

Silence.

Then—

Winter slammed down hard.

You cried out—but she kissed you to muffle it, riding you mercilessly now.

“Come for me,” she ordered. “Fill your school president up like the obedient loser you are.”

Your vision blurred as you spilled inside her. Her pussy milked every drop.

She bit your lip when you sagged backward, panting.

Winter grinned, satisfied. “Not bad,” she whispered. “Maybe I’ll keep you for extra lessons.”

You were still twitching, your cum leaking down your shaft and dripping onto the chair.

Winter stood up, pulled her skirt back down, and walked to the door like nothing happened.

“Oh,” she added, turning back. “Detention tomorrow. Same time.”

She winked.

“And maybe, just maybe, I'll let you keep my panties.”

THE NEXT DAY

Your legs couldn’t stop shaking under your desk all day.

Every time you blinked, you saw it again—her skirt riding up, her panties in your lap, her voice whispering filth in your ear while she ground herself on your cock like she owned it.

Winter. Kim Minjeong. Your school’s untouchable student council president. And now—somehow—the girl who made you cum inside her in Classroom 2-C while the security guard nearly caught you both.

She didn’t text you. Didn’t look at you during class. Didn't even acknowledge your existence.

But as the final bell rang, and students started filing out, a note slid across your desk.

"President’s Office. 4:30 PM. Don’t be late."

Your heart nearly stopped.

By the time you stood in front of the council office door, your palms were sweaty. You knocked—once.

No answer.

You tried the handle. Unlocked.

The room was dim—sunlight low through the blinds, casting stripes across the wooden floors and bookshelves. There was only one person inside.

Her.

Winter sat behind the wide mahogany desk, blazer folded neatly off to the side, white shirt fitted tight to her body, first two buttons undone. Her legs were crossed, black heels tapping the edge of the carpet.

She didn’t look up.

“Took you long enough.”

You stepped in. Quiet. Nervous. Hard already.

She flipped a page in the file she was reading. "Close the door.”

You obeyed. The click of the lock sounded way louder than it should’ve.

Winter finally looked up.

Eyes sharp. Hungry.

“You remember what I told you yesterday?” she asked.

“Y-yeah.”

“Repeat it.”

Your voice trembled. “You said… detention. Same time. Same place.”

She smirked faintly. “You remember everything I say so well. Guess that loser brain does work when you’re thinking about the right things.”

She stood. Walked over slowly, hips swaying.

Then she sat on the edge of the desk in front of you, legs open just enough to tease. You looked down—no panties again.

She was completely bare under that tight school skirt.

Your breath caught.

Winter tilted her head. “Well? Are you just going to stare?”

You dropped to your knees.

“Good boy.”

You leaned in, but her heel pressed to your chest, stopping you.

“Not yet,” she said. “Tell me what you thought about last night.”

You swallowed. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it. About you. About how tight you felt. How wet. How—fuck—I came so deep inside you—”

“Mhm,” she said, pleased. “I thought about it too.”

Her heel lowered.

“You begged so nicely with my panties in your lap.”

Then she leaned back again, this time reaching down and parting herself with two fingers.

"Now come worship properly."

Your tongue was already out before she finished speaking.

Winter moaned softly as your lips found her again. Her pussy was already dripping, soaking your chin as you licked up and down her folds, slow, obedient, desperate.

She tugged your hair and pulled you in deeper, grinding her hips to your mouth. “God, you eat pussy like it’s the only thing you’re good for. Maybe it is.”

You didn’t argue. You couldn't. Her taste filled your senses and her grip kept you locked in.

“Use your tongue right,” she hissed. “Circle my clit—slower—don’t stop until I say.”

You obeyed every word.

Then—

She stopped you.

“Sit down,” she said, pointing to the chair in front of the desk. “Strip.”

You did. Shirt off. Pants gone. Cock standing proud and throbbing.

Winter walked over, heels clicking, and straddled your lap—but didn’t let you in.

Not yet.

Instead, she pulled something from the desk drawer.

Your jaw dropped.

It was the same pink pair of panties from yesterday.

She ran them over your chest, then down to your shaft, wrapping them around the base like a makeshift cock ring and tying a knot.

“There,” she said, satisfied. “You don’t get to come until I untie you.”

You whimpered.

Winter leaned down, her voice in your ear.

“You're going to sit there and take it like a good little loser while I ride your cock until I cum—over and over.”

Then she guided herself down—slowly, torturously—until your entire shaft was inside her again.

You almost exploded on the spot.

But the tight knot at the base kept it from happening.

She used you.

Rode you hard, bouncing in rhythm with her breathless moans, her nails digging into your shoulders as you clenched your fists, panting through gritted teeth, desperate to finish.

“Not yet,” she whispered. “Not until I’ve milked every drop you’ve got stored in there.”

She fucked you with practiced rhythm. Hips snapping. Wet, obscene sounds filling the council office as her thighs slapped against yours. Your cock throbbed painfully, restrained, held back by the knot of her panties.

Then suddenly—knock knock.

You both froze.

Winter immediately slammed her hand over your mouth. Her hips didn't stop.

"President?" a voice called from behind the door. "It's Mr. Park—building check. Are you still inside?"

Your cock twitched inside her.

Winter leaned close, lips brushing your ear.

“You’re hard in your president while someone’s talking to us through the door,” she whispered. “You’re such a fucking pervert.”

You moaned behind her hand.

She answered, voice perfect, calm.

“Yes, Mr. Park. Still finalizing the reports. I’ll be done shortly.”

“Oh, alright then. Just locking up soon.”

You both waited. Silence.

Footsteps faded.

Winter looked back at you.

Then untied the knot.

“You may come,” she whispered, tightening her walls around you. “Now.”

Your whole body snapped.

You exploded inside her, load after load, thick, twitching ropes spilling deep in her pussy as you cried out into her palm.

She moaned softly, grinding down to take every last drop.

When you finally stopped shaking, she leaned back and smiled.

Your cum dripped out between her thighs as she stood, slowly putting her blazer back on.

She walked around the desk, sat back in her chair, crossed her legs.

“Clean yourself up,” she said without looking.

You grabbed tissues. Wiped your cock. Pulled your pants on.

“Same time tomorrow,” she said, eyes still on her laptop. “I expect you to knock this time. And bring me something sweet.”

You blinked. “Like… candy?”

She looked up, smirking.

“No. Your mouth.”

[strawberry-bubblef]

Just found your blog after seeing the Overblot students reacting to causing serious harm to the reader/their partner and oof the angst is strong there! Excellent stuff all around and the way that several of them have symbolic injuries suited to each is fitting-

Like Vil pointed out the irony that his attack blinded them (likely disfiguring too)

Leona missing the arm that never hesitated to reach out for him.

Jamil making his S/O unable to stand without them, needing his support.

For some reason, it all reminded me of the Jekyll and Hyde musical (not at all accurate to the original work but the music is pretty good) particularly the Confrontation song, where Jekyll and Hyde have a musical number ripping into the other.

Imagine if the Overblot guys (whether merely haunted by their memories of the event or tying into your original post about permanent injuries inflicted to the person they loved most) have nightmares confronting those versions of themselves especially in regards to the harm that could have (or did) happen to their S/O. Only to get hit with “can’t you see were the same” but maybe the OB’s are mild yanderes towards the S/O or point out easier it is to keep them by his side, that he’s willing to take the risks to keep them around unlike the “good boy” persona some of them keep up.

OB students having nightmares of themselves after hurting their s/o

Part 1: Ob student unintentionally hurting their s/o

Aww! Thanks for the sweet words 🥲🫶 I'm glade you liked it !

Riddle Rosehearts

The halls of Heartslabyul are silent after curfew. Moonlight cuts silver through the tall windows, casting the checkered floor in sharp, cold contrast. It’s late, but Riddle isn’t sleeping. Not really. Not anymore.

He jolts awake again, breath shallow, red eyes wide. He stares at the ceiling, but all he sees is the moment he can never take back.

Your voice, cracking as you tried to reach him.

The way the vines coiled around you, cruel and tight,his vines.

How you cried out.

And the silence after. The absolute silence.

He’s by your side now, and you’ve forgiven him. You told him as much, your voice gentle, your hand on his. But that forgiveness tastes like ash when he remembers the look on your face back then,not fear, not anger, but disbelief. As if you couldn't quite believe he was the one hurting you.

It clings to him like a second skin.

And every night, the dream returns.

The maze is dead now. No more vibrant red blooms or the sweet scent of petals. Only twisted thorns and rotting leaves, the sky above a bruised, stormy purple. The air is heavy with guilt and magic.

In the center of it all sits his throne.

That version of him is waiting, legs crossed elegantly, sipping black tea that stains the porcelain cup like ink.

“You're late,” the Overblot says. “But I suppose shame slows the feet.”

Riddle takes a breath. “I’m not here for your games.”

“Ah, but we’ve played such lovely ones, haven’t we? Tea parties and rules and hearts cut clean in half.”

He steps closer, circling Riddle like a cat. “Do you remember how quiet they became after we were done? No more backtalk. No more chaos. They obeyed. Isn't that what you wanted?”

Riddle flinches.

The Overblot leans in, voice silken and low. “You wrapped yourself in rules because your mother left you no room to breathe. So you did the same to them because love is terrifying when it’s free, isn’t it?”

“I was wrong,” Riddle says. “That wasn’t love.”

“Then what do you call it?” the other hisses, the smile gone. “You think your bouquet of apologies rewrites what you did? You think gentle words and shared tea make up for the way they screamed?”

Riddle’s hands tremble. He can’t meet his own eyes,those cruel red eyes staring out of a mirror cracked by power and pain.

“I didn't mean to hurt them.”

“But you did.” The Overblot’s voice turns almost tender, almost sad. “And I-we will always live with that.”

Silence falls like snow.

And then: “But at least I was honest. At least I did what had to be done to keep them close. You fear they’ll leave. I made it impossible. Maybe you should be thanking me.”

Riddle recoils. “You turned them into something fragile.”

“I turned them into something ours. They stay because of you, but they flinch because of me.”

A pause.

“Can’t you see?” he whispers. “We’re the same.”

The dream ends with Riddle reaching for his collar, choking on petals that pour from his mouth,crimson, velvet, suffocating.

He wakes with a cry.

It’s still night, the room quiet. He reaches for you instinctively, but the sheets are cool, the space beside him empty. Panic strikes fast and cold.

He finds you on the balcony, bathed in moonlight. Wrapped in a soft robe, you’re gazing at the stars. Your arm is wrapped, supported. Some movements are slower now. But your eyes are bright as ever.

You turn as he approaches.

“Another nightmare?”

Riddle says nothing. He only stands behind you and hesitantly slide his hand into yours. His grip is tight,not crushing, never again but desperate in its quiet plea.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers.

“You don’t get to decide that alone,” you reply softly, placing yourhand over his. “You made a mistake. A terrible one. But you changed. You’re trying. That matters.”

“I see him every time I close my eyes,” Riddle admits. “He says we’re the same.”

You turn, gently cupping his face with the only hand that you have left. “Then prove him wrong.”

He leans into your touch like a drowning man, clinging to the only solid thing in a storm. In your eyes, there’s still pain. Still healing. But also,somehow hope.

He’s terrified he’ll always be at war with that version of himself.

But if you’re willing to walk beside him through the thorns, maybe, just maybe, there’s a path forward.

Leona Kingscholar

The desert wind howls in his ears.

Leona stands on the edge of a dry, cracked savannah where nothing grows, under a sunless sky. The ground is stained with soot and ash, grass burned to cinders. In the distance, a pride stone crumbles into dust.

And there,at the center of the destruction,is himself.

Or at least, what’s left of him.

His Overblot form sits lazily upon a throne of twisted bone and stone, smoke curling from his mane like incense from an open flame. Those glowing eyes burn, full of mirthless amusement.

“Took you long enough,” the Overblot drawls. “What, couldn’t face me sooner? Or were you too busy watching them struggle to tie their shoes with the wrong damn hand?”

Leona's jaw tightens. “Shut up.”

“Hit a nerve?” His other self stretches, claws dragging over the arms of the throne. “I’m not the one who tore it from them. You are. We are.”

“I never meant–”

“Don’t insult both of us. You knew what that spell could do. You were angry. Jealous. Tired of always coming second. So you struck. And you didn’t stop.”

Leona’s fists clench. He can still remember the heat, the way magic surged through him like wildfire, untamed and wild. The look on your face when you collapsed, your dominant arm crushed under a landslide of sand and force.

He remembers how still you were. How you didn’t reach for him. Couldn’t.

And how the silence that followed was louder than any roar.

“They can’t write like they used to,” his Overblot murmurs. “Can’t lift a box. Can’t sketch, or braid your damn hair. All the things they used to do so easily,gone. Because of you.”

“I know !” Leona snaps. “I live with it every day.”

“Do you?” The Overblot tilts his head. “Then why haven’t you left? Why not let them go and find someone better for them? Someone whole?”

Leona’s voice drops to a growl. “Because I love them.”

The other version smiles, sharp and cruel. “No. You need them. And they need you now, don’t they? You made sure of that. No one else understands them like you. No one else will want them like this.”

Leona stares, disgust tightening in his throat.

“Come on,” the Overblot purrs. “Admit it. Part of you is relieved. Because now they’ll stay.”

“No.”

“They’ll never leave you.”

“NO!”

The Overblot lunges, claws out, but Leona doesn’t move.

Because he knows the truth: this isn’t about physical pain. This is about guilt, about possession, about fear.

And about how love can rot if left to fester.

He wakes up leaning against a tree in Savanaclaw. It's still dark, the early morning stars just beginning to fade. His hands are buried in the dirt, sweat soaking the back of his shirt. His heart thunders in his chest like it’s trying to dig out.

The scent of jasmine reaches him first. Then your voice.

“Bad dream?”

Leona looks up.

You’re seated nearby, wrapped in a blanket, watching the horizon. Your sleeve is pinned up neatly, your right side turned toward him. The scarred place where your arm used to be is hidden, but he knows its shape by memory now.

He sits beside you wordlessly. You lean into him, letting his warmth chase away the morning chill.

“It’s always the same dream,” he mutters. “Me. Him. You.”

You rest your head on his shoulder. “Do you still hate yourself?”

He doesn’t answer.

His grip tightens ever so slightly. “I wish it had been me instead.”

You reach for his hand with your remaining one and lace your fingers together.

“I would’ve still stayed,” you say. “Even if it had been you who got hurt. Even if it was your arm.”

Silence stretches, heavy and honest.

Leona leans into you then, pressing his forehead to your temple.

“I’m trying,” he whispers.

“I know.”

And for once, the guilt doesn’t scream quite so loud.

Azul Ashengrotto

The sea is too still.

No current, no light,only the inky abyss stretching endlessly in every direction. Azul floats weightlessly in the dark, arms crossed over his chest, eyes closed as if sleep could shield him from what he knows is coming.

No light,only the inky abyss stretching endlessly in every direction. Azul floats weightlessly in the dark, arms crossed over his chest, eyes closed as if sleep could shield him from what he knows is coming.

And then it starts.

The water shifts.

A shadow coils in the deep like smoke in water,and from it emerges himself,not in his human form, not even in his merman body. No, it’s the Overblot: bloated and grandiose, tentacles stretching into the black like roots through rot. His grin is razor-sharp, filled with oil-slick malice.

“Still pretending to be human?” it coos. “Still clinging to the mask of the poor little businessman?”

Azul doesn’t look at it.

“Did you think success would make you good?” the Overblot hisses, gliding around him like a serpent. “That if you just worked hard enough, they’d love you? Respect you?”

Azul breathes slowly, deliberately. “Shut up.”

“Oh, touchy.” “You weren’t nearly so quiet when you were begging them not to leave you. Not when they were lying there,bleeding, gasping because you made them part of your deal.”

Azul flinches.

He sees it again: the whirlpool, the crashing debris, the spell cast in desperation and greed. The way you fell,your leg crushed under the magical pressure, twisted unnaturally before he could stop it.

Before he cared to stop it.

“You used them,” the Overblot sings. “Because deep down, you thought: if they depend on me, they won’t leave me.”

“I didn’t—”

“Yes, you did,” it snarls. “You saw them shine and you thought: I want that. You dragged them into your schemes, into your world. And now?”

A cruel smile stretches over its face.

“Now they can’t even dance.”

Azul’s fists curl.

“They limp through the halls, leaning on a cane or your arm, and every step is a reminder. And yet, they still smile at you. Still tell you it’s not your fault.”

The Overblot leans in close, eyes glowing.

“But it is.”

Azul screams,no sound leaves his throat, only bubbles but he surges forward, trying to claw at the thing wearing his face, only for it to melt away into nothing.

Leaving him alone in the silent sea.

He jolts awake in a cold sweat.

The lounge is dark, only the soft glow of enchanted lamps illuminating the drapes. Azul sits on the couch, disheveled,, breath caught halfway in his throat.

A small noise draws his attention.

You're at the window, adjusting your prosthetic leg,carefully, patiently. You don’t notice him watching, or maybe you do, and you choose not to look.

He swallows.

You always do things quietly now. No complaints. No bitter remarks. But you also don’t hum anymore when you walk. You don’t twirl in the water like you used to.

Azul lowers his eyes.

He hears the soft tap of your cane as you make your way over, the familiar pattern of your gait now etched into his memory.

You sit beside him, brushing your hand against his.

“You dreamt about it again.”

He nods, shame burning behind his eyes.

“I see him in the mirror sometimes,” he murmurs. “The one I was. I wonder if I’m still him.”

You shake your head. “He would’ve run from this. You didn’t.”

Azul hesitates before reaching for your hand. “I don’t deserve your kindness.”

“Maybe not,” you whisper, “but you’re trying. And that counts more than you think.”

He leans in slowly, resting his forehead against the side of your head. “If I could give you that leg back…”

“I wouldn’t take it.”

He stiffens, shocked.

You turn to him with quiet intensity. “Because then maybe you’d still be pretending to be someone you’re not. I don’t need perfection. I need you.”

Azul doesn’t reply,he can’t. But he holds you a little tighter, breathing in the proof that somehow, some way… you’re still here.

And maybe that's enough.

Jamil Viper

The chains rattle again.

He doesn’t know where he is,some room, always dark, always humid. The smell of sweat and ash lingers like incense from an old nightmare. Stone walls stretch in every direction, but there’s no exit. No sky. Just that mirror on the wall.

He doesn’t look at it.

Not yet.

He knows who’s waiting on the other side.

But he turns anyway.

And there he i. The Overblot version of himself smiles cruelly, slouching in that confident, arrogant way Jamil hates to admit he once wished he could embody.

“You look exhausted,” the Overblot drawls. “Not sleeping well, Jamil?”

“I’m not here to talk to you,” Jamil hisses.

“Oh, but I’m here to talk to you.” The reflection slinks closer. “How’s our darling doing, by the way? Still limping around because of you?”

Jamil’s stomach churns.

The sound of bones snapping, of the ground cracking during that awful moment,when magic surged out of control, when the pressure pinned you down, the illusion spells fraying as your foot was crushed beneath falling debris he summoned. Not even intentionally. Not really.

But he knew you were nearby.

And he still didn’t care.

He had finally taken the reins of his life and you were collateral.

“I didn’t mean-” Jamil starts, voice strained.

“You didn’t stop,” the Overblot cuts in, venomous. “You didn’t hesitate. You knew they were watching. And still you used your magic. Still you twisted their mind until they collapsed.”

Jamil’s voice is a whisper. “I didn't want to hurt them.”

“You wanted control.”

Silence.

“You wanted them to stop pitying you. To see you,not the servant, not the background character, but the powerful one. And when you had it, even just for a moment…”

The Overblot tilts his head.

“…you liked it.”

Jamil clenches his fists. “I hate you.”

“No,” it says, baring fangs. “You hate that I’m you. You hate that some part of you thought, ‘If I can just keep them dependent… they’ll never leave.’”

The words sting like poison.

“Now look at them,” the Overblot murmurs. “They used to dance barefoot on sunlit floors. Now every step is calculated. Controlled. Like you wanted everything else to be.”

Jamil shuts his eyes tight.

When he opens them again, the mirror is empty.

He’s alone again.

But the silence is louder than before.

He wakes up in a sweat.

The room is dim, lit by the flicker of a candle. The warmth of the dorm blankets does little to soothe him, especially not when he sees the empty spot in the bed beside him.

You're by the window.

Adjusting the supportive brace over your ankle,what's left of it. Your balance is careful, practiced. Your fingers are deft. Jamil sits up quietly, heart aching.

You glance over your shoulder. “Nightmare?”

He nods, slow.

You limp over to him, footsteps padded by the soft cloth of your wrap. You don’t say anything at first,you just press your forehead to his, fingers tangling with his.

“I see him,” Jamil says. “The version of me who… who didn't care. Who thought being loved wasn’t as important as being obeyed.”

You don’t flinch. You already know.

“I hate him,” he whispers.

“But he’s not you,” you murmur back.

Jamil’s eyes glint with unshed tears.

“I almost made you another chain.”

You shake your head, taking his hand and placing it against your heartbeat. “But you let go. You let me go. You helped me stand again.”

His voice is raw. “You should’ve run from me.”

“I didn’t want to,” you reply. “I wanted to walk beside you. Even if I had to relearn how.”

He exhales shakily.

And when he kisses your knuckles, it’s soft. Tentative. Like he’s still trying to prove to himself that you’re real,that this, what he has now, is real.

Even after all he’s done.

Vil Schoenheit

The mirror doesn’t lie. That’s the curse.

He can’t hide from it. Not from the face that stares back at him,twisted, blot-streaked, gleaming with hatred and pride. His Overblot self grins through cracked lipstick and bleeding glamour.

“Ah. Come to scold me again, Schoenheit?”

Vil doesn’t answer. He already knows how this goes.

Every night, it’s the same: the same confrontation, the same voice that sounds too much like his own, the same sickening echo of violet light bursting from his fingertips, burning away the world and everything he held dear.

Especially you.

“Still pretending you didn’t enjoy it?” the Overblot version sneers. “You always thought beauty was everything. Until you became the monster.”

Vil’s voice is cold. “I wanted the world to see me. Not them.”

“And now they can’t see anything at all.” A cruel chuckle. “Isn’t that poetic?”

His throat tightens.

He remembers the scent of magic in the air, the searing heat, the flash of light as your scream tore through him. The way you clutched your face, blood slipping between your fingers. The panic that followed. The silence. The way your eyes never found him again.

“I didn’t mean to hurt them.”

“But you did.” The Overblot tilts his head mockingly. “You wanted to be seen. So you made sure they never would be seen again. You took that from them. You, who worshipped beauty like a god.”

Vil’s hands tremble at his sides.

“You knew what your magic could do. You chose to use it anyway.”

“I thought I could control it.”

“You were wrong.”

Silence.

Then:

“They still call your name,” the Overblot whispers. “Even now. Still reach for you. Still smile in your direction. And doesn’t that make it worse?”

Vil turns away.

“All they know is the echo of your voice and the feel of your touch. And you cling to that, don’t you? Because if they saw you as you were... they would’ve run.”

The mirror cracks.

Not from magic but from the way Vil slams his fist into it, fury rippling through every bone.

And when he opens his eyes again, he's awake.

The bedroom is quiet, curtains drawn open just enough to let in moonlight. You’re seated on the bed, fingers moving expertly as you read a Braille book Vil had custom,made for you. Your head tilts slightly when you hear him stir.

“Another dream?” you ask gently.

Vil’s voice is hoarse. “Yes.”

You set the book down. “Was it him again?”

“…Yes.”

You pat the space beside you, and he comes willingly. Sits beside you. Lets you touch his face. You always do that now,run your fingertips along his cheekbones, brush over the curve of his lips, like you’re memorizing him all over again.

“I hate what I did to you,” he whispers. “I took the stars from your eyes.”

“And still I find light in your voice.” you say softly.

Vil swallows. “You don’t hate me?”

“I miss what I lost,” you admit. “But I don’t miss you. Because you’re still here.”

He presses your hand to his chest. “It should’ve been me.”

“No,” you whisper. “You came back to me. That’s enough.”

Sometimes, he still dreams of mirrors.

But these days, when he wakes,he’s holding your hand.

And somehow, that makes all the difference.

Idia Shroud

That’s how the nightmare always starts.

Blue flame dances along the walls, scorching consoles, melting cables, and setting off a chorus of alarms. Everything is chaos.Except for him. Except for the Overblot.

It rises from the flames like a ghost made of rage and sorrow, hair wilder, cloak billowing like smoke. It grins, bearing rows of flame-slicked teeth.

“Guess what, Idia,” it sing-songs. “You’re the villain in your own tragic visual novel. Bad End unlocked!”

Idia curls inward, arms around himself. “I didn’t want to hurt them.”

“You did more than hurt them,” it hisses. “You burned them. Because you wanted to keep them close. You wanted them safe.”

“I lost control. The magic-”

“You thought locking them in the Underworld was safer than letting them leave you. And when they reached out for you..” The Overblot snaps its fingers.

The scent of scorched flesh.

The sound of your cry.

Idia covers his ears, but it’s no use.

“You destroyed the very hands that held you. Four fingers. Gone. Just like that. Do you know how many times they tried to play your games after that? Tried to cook? Draw? Hold a pen?”

“I didn’t mean to-!”

“But you did.” The voice is ice now. “And you know what the worst part is?”

Silence.

“They still forgive you.”

Idia lifts his head slowly, shame thick in his eyes.

“They still smile when you fumble with words. Still wrap what’s left of their hand around yours. Still kiss your cheek and say it’s okay. It’s not okay.”

“I know,” he whispers. “I know it’s not.”

“Then why do you stay?”

He doesn’t answer right away.

Then-q

“…Because they asked me to. Because they didn’t want to lose me too.”

The Overblot’s grin fades.

Idia steps closer to it. For once, he doesn’t flinch.

“I am a coward. I am broken. But I’m trying. Every day. I can’t fix what I did… but I can be here now. And that’s what they asked of me.”

The flames flicker.

“You don’t deserve them,” it spits.

“I know,” Idia says. “But they still choose me. And I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to be worthy of that.”

He wakes up gasping.

Your hand is in his,smaller now, missing parts of what once was, wrapped in soft bandages and healing cream. But warm. Still warm.

You stir beside him. “Another one?”

He nods.

You squeeze. “You’re still here.”

“…Yeah.”

You rest your forehead against his. “Then I’m okay.”

He doesn’t cry, but he holds your hand tighter.

And for the first time, the nightmare fades into silence.

Malleus Draconia

The castle is quiet. Too quiet.

He wanders its halls alone in the dream. The stone is grey, cracked with age. Thorny vines have grown wild over every door, every window. The sky outside is eternally twilight, like the world itself is holding its breath. Time doesn’t move here. It hasn’t for centuries.

He knows where you are.

He always knows.

Your chamber lies behind an arch of briars, untouched by rot or dust. Enchanted sleep preserved you, peaceful and unmoving, lips barely parted as if frozen mid-sigh.

He crosses the threshold slowly, reverently. His footsteps don’t echo anymore.

You lies there still.

Because of him.

“Malleus.”

The voice that greets him isn’t yours.

It’s his but deeper, weightless, echoing with ancient magic.

The Overblot.

It steps into view like a reflection peeled from his shadow. A smile too gentle to be anything but cruel.

“You saved her,” it says. “She was going to leave. Be taken away. You stopped it.”

“I imprisoned her,” Malleus whispers.

“You protected her. In eternal sleep, she couldn’t be harmed. Couldn’t abandon you. Couldn’t be taken away by time or fate or death.”

Malleus walks toward the bed. Your skin is still warm beneath the spell, magic thrumming softly with every breath. So many years have passed. More than he dares count.

“And yet she wept in her dreams,” he murmurs. “I heard it. Even through the spell.”

“Dreams are nothing,” the Overblot croons. “She’s safe. Isn’t that all you ever wanted?”

His hands tremble.

“I wanted to be with her,” Malleus says, voice breaking. “Not without her. Not like this.”

The Overblot’s smile fades. It regards him like a disappointed parent. “You are a king .You could have have eternity together.”

“No. I forced eternity upon her. I robbed her of choice… of time… of life.”

A silence falls.

Then-

“But she’s awake now.”

That voice. Yours.

He turns.

You're standing in the doorway. Older than you should be, touched by the centuries but beautiful still. Eyes full of sorrow and kindness both.

“I’m awake, Malleus.”

He stares, breathless. “This isn’t real.”

“It could be,” you say, stepping forward. “If you let go of the guilt. If you come back to me.”

“But I hurt you. I stole your future.”

“And yet I chose to wake up.”

You reach out.

He takes your hand in both of his, kneeling as if in penance.

“I will never forgive myself,” he whispers.

“Then let me forgive you instead,” you say. “You’re here now. And I waited because I believed you’d come back.”

He wakes in your arms, forehead against your shoulder, breath shaky.

You cradle his head gently, fingers weaving through his hair.

“You dreamt it again,” you murmur.

He nods, silent.

“I’m still here,” you remind him. “Still choosing you.”

And he holds you tighter, as though centuries could slip between his fingers once more.

But this time, he’ll never let go.

English is not my first language !

[edenesth]

ATEEZ as Hogwarts Students

Pairing(s): hogwarts student!ateez x hogwarts student!reader

Word Count: 9.8k

A/N: Oh my gosh, thank you all so much for helping me reach 2.3k followers! To celebrate this, I'm back again with another one of these! Once again, special thanks to my one and only, my pookie, @itstheghostofmypast, for helping me confirm which houses some of the members should be in💘

ATEEZ MASTERLIST

Hongjoong ↠ Gryffindor

The Poor Prefect That Nobody Takes Seriously

"I swear to god, if I see another damn chocolate frog loose in the dorm, I'll—" Before Hongjoong could even finish, a cheeky first-year passing by stuck his tongue out at him. "What are you gonna do? Run off to cry to Professor McGonagall again?"

The seventh-year's jaw dropped, his blood pressure spiking, but the kid was gone before he could even scold him. Two years—he'd been a prefect for almost two years now, and still, no one ever took him seriously. Thinking back to his early days as an optimistic prefect, eager to bring order and discipline to his rowdy housemates, he knew now how impossible that dream was.

But was he going to stop trying?

Not a damn chance.

Hongjoong had chosen to become a prefect the very moment he was eligible in his fifth year. Professors had always praised him as reliable, a natural-born leader, and he'd believed that wholeheartedly. He'd pictured himself bringing order to his dormitory, respected by his housemates for his efforts to keep things in line. But the reality? Gryffindors, as he was learning, could be a lot harder to control than he ever expected.

Unfortunately, his "small but mighty" reputation didn't exactly translate into authority. He'd start off with a firm tone, reminding them of the rules, only to watch them twist his words into a rallying cry for their next scheme. His attempts at seriousness somehow only fueled their chaotic Gryffindor spirits, making him seem more like a mascot for daring antics than a figure of discipline.

While the academic staff continued to commend his commitment, his classmates saw him as the "cool" prefect—the one who'd cover for them more often than not, a little too forgiving to actually be feared. Some nights, he'd even find himself dragged into the very pranks he was supposed to be preventing, swept up by the contagious energy of his friends.

Despite everything, Hongjoong couldn't bring himself to truly give up. Every morning, he'd tell himself that today was the day he'd put his foot down, that he'd be the prefect his professors always said he could be. He knew the odds weren't in his favour, but in true Gryffindor fashion, he wasn't about to back down from the challenge.

Today's the day—I can feel it in my bones.

Letting out a determined breath, Hongjoong's gaze fixed on the notice board, now littered with doodles, silly notes, and questionable "decorations." With a purposeful nod, he crossed his arms and cleared his throat, catching the attention of the Gryffindors lounging around the common room. "Forget the frogs then. How many times have I told you all not to vandalise the notice board with your nonsense? It's used solely for—"

"For important announcements. Yes, we get it," piped up a cheeky third-year, eyes glinting with mischief. "But there are no announcements at the moment, so is it really so bad if we, y'know, decorate a little?"

And there it was again—the quick responses that left him speechless every time. Hongjoong tried to keep his expression stern, but a tiny part of him could almost see their point. Was it so bad to have a bit of fun? No, he reminded himself, that's not the point. But as he felt his resolve waver, he knew a miracle wasn't going to happen today. Why couldn't he be both firm and likeable, just like—

"Oh, so you want to test if it's bad?" your voice cut through, sharp but calm, as you stepped down from the spiral staircase. You'd been listening long enough to hear their usual defiance, and you were not about to let them undermine your boyfriend's authority. "How about we invite the professors to take a look at your 'artwork' and see how much they'd appreciate it, hm?"

Like you.

Hongjoong released a breath he hadn't realised he was holding, grateful for your support. You, with your knack for balancing authority and approachability, were everything he wished he could be as a prefect. If he could just learn how to be firm, like you, maybe Gryffindor's antics would finally come under control.

"You heard her," he added, finding a bit of confidence again as he nodded in agreement. "Clean it up. Now."

The students exchanged glances, sighing as they reluctantly began peeling off the doodles. He couldn't help but grin a little as he glanced your way.

"Thanks, babe," he mouthed.

You shook your head, smiling as you nodded toward the remaining Gryffindors lounging around. "I'm heading to the Great Hall first. I'll leave it to you to get everyone to breakfast on time, Joong. Think you can handle it?"

Hongjoong nodded enthusiastically, eager to make you proud. "You bet. They're going to see a whole new Prefect Kim this year," he declared confidently.

You laughed, both amused and a bit sceptical. He'd nearly caved to their antics just moments ago, but that was part of his charm. You loved how different he was from you—how he helped you loosen up when you were too serious, just as you helped him stay firm when he got a little too lenient. Together, you two were like yin and yang, balanced and perfectly matched, as everyone in the house always teased.

Squeezing his hand, you gave him a playful smile. "Show 'em, tiger," you winked before turning to leave, catching a glimpse of his cheeks turning pink.

The moment you were out of sight, the common room burst into whistles and smirks around him. Snapping out of his trance, your boyfriend rolled his eyes, trying to keep his composure.

"Alright, folks," he called out, clapping his hands. "You heard my girl. Let's cooperate for once and head to the Great Hall on time—don't make me disappoint her!"

The Gryffindors grinned, shuffling toward the door without a fuss, eager to play along. He smirked, pleased with their obedience whenever you were mentioned. Maybe he'd always need your presence to keep this difficult crowd in line, but he didn't mind at all. He knew they didn't have to fear him for him to be a good prefect. Deep down, he knew they all adored him, and he was pretty sure that, rule-breaking aside, they wouldn't truly make things difficult for him. They just loved teasing him—because, honestly, he might just be their favourite prefect.

Seonghwa ↠ Hufflepuff

The Goody Two Shoes and Teacher's Pet

"Oh, Seonghwa, my boy! What brings you here on a weekend? Shouldn't you be off enjoying Hogsmeade with your girlfriend?" Professor Sprout asked, pleasantly surprised as her star student stepped into the greenhouse, notebook in hand. The seventh-year smiled brightly, giving her a respectful nod before approaching.

"Good afternoon, Professor! I just came by to check on my mandrake—I'm determined to cultivate one to maturity for my latest Restorative Draught. And, uh… my girlfriend, she'll be here to join me soon," he added, rubbing the back of his neck, cheeks turning pink at the mention of you.

Professor Sprout's expression softened, a smile touching her lips. "You're too hard working for your own good, both of you," she gently chided, pride swelling as she glanced at the Hufflepuff sigil pinned proudly on his denim jacket. Even on a day when house representation wasn't required, Park Seonghwa wore his Hufflepuff loyalty openly, reminding everyone where his heart belonged. She knew he had a bright future ahead, and if she were to ever consider early retirement, he would be her top choice to take over as the next Herbology professor.

As if on cue, you pushed open the greenhouse doors and stepped inside. "Hwa, are you here already?" you called, glancing around before your eyes landed on your boyfriend and Professor Sprout.

Seonghwa, who'd been focused on his mandrake, looked up at the sound of your voice, a soft smile lighting up his face. In the presence of authority, he resisted the urge to rush over and hug you, his restraint both endearing and unmistakable. You bit back a laugh, amused by his adorable attempt at composure.

"Oh! Good afternoon, Professor!" you greeted, nodding respectfully. "Are we disturbing you? We can come another day if you need the greenhouse for your work."

She smiled warmly, waving off your concern. "Not at all, dearie. I was just on my way out. You two enjoy your little date," she added with a knowing wink. "And if you're in the mood for a treat, there are some extra Every Flavour Beans on the top shelf—please help yourselves."

"Thank you, Professor!" you and Seonghwa chimed in unison, exchanging a look of warmth and shared gratitude. As the elderly woman left, he gently took your hand, pulling you close enough to place a soft kiss on your forehead. You leaned into him with a contented sigh. "How embarrassing—now she's certain we're dating," you murmured, unable to hide your own smile.

He chuckled, his eyes dancing with affection. "Is that such a terrible thing, love? Maybe it's time the whole world knows you're mine."

You gasped in mock scandal, playfully nudging his shoulder. "How improper," you laughed, but a blush crept into your cheeks. Though you'd never formally announced your relationship, it was hardly a secret—everyone must have guessed by now with all the time you spent together. But for the sake of his reputation as the model student, you'd both kept things understated, not feeling the need to broadcast your love. Now, though, there was a new spark in his eyes, a hint of the Slytherin heritage running through his veins, as if he suddenly wanted the world to see what his heart had always known.

Seonghwa, after all, was the first Hufflepuff in a long line of Ravenclaws and Slytherins—a surprise his family hadn't quite anticipated. But their surprise had never bothered him. Instead, it had only strengthened his resolve to prove that Hufflepuff was as noble and worthy as any other house. Consistently at the top of his class in Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures, he'd gained the admiration of professors for his quiet dedication and high moral standards. Always the first to lend a hand to new students or submit his assignments, he was as dependable as they came.

Yet as much as he wanted to honour his house and his achievements, his heart now longed for something deeper. For the first time, he wanted his family—and everyone else—to see you, the one who had believed in him through every challenge and celebrated every victory, who had loved him exactly as he was. He knew that letting you into his life so openly would be the proudest badge he could ever wear.

"So," he began, biting his lip as he shifted his focus from the mandrake to you, who was busily jotting down notes about its latest growth. "Should we spend some time in Hogsmeade after this?" His voice was soft, almost hesitant, and your eyes widened slightly, your actions faltering as you locked gazes with him.

"You're joking, right? All our friends are there—" you started, but he shook his head, his expression earnest. "I'm serious, love."

The weight of his words sank in, and you realised he wasn't joking at all. A rush of emotions washed over you. "I... I don't know why it took me so long, but I don't want to hide my feelings for you anymore. I want to openly show my affection and be like every other couple in school. It's already our seventh year, and we haven't even been on a proper date. Can we make this the first of many more? Would you like to... go on a date with me?"

Placing your pen down, you blinked, your heart racing at his sincere proposal. This was a big step. Once the truth was out in the open, there would be no turning back—everyone, including his family, would know about you two. But as you looked into his eyes, you felt a rush of warmth. If he was ready for it, then so were you. You knew he would always protect you, no matter what.

With a shy smile, you nodded, feeling butterflies fluttering in your stomach. "Thought you'd never ask."

His face broke into a radiant grin, and the world around you seemed to melt away. Seonghwa stepped closer, allowing your head to rest against his shoulder, enveloped in the warmth of his presence like a cosy blanket. "I can't wait," he murmured softly.

"Me too," you replied, a wave of excitement bubbling in your chest.

In that greenhouse, surrounded by vibrant plants and warm sunlight, you both felt the first tender blooms of something beautiful—a love that was finally ready to thrive in the open, with all the joy and light that came with it.

Yunho ↠ Hufflepuff

The Popular Triwizard Champion

"Well? Have you managed to figure out the next task, golden boy?"

Yunho's head snapped around at the sound of your voice, his wide eyes betraying his surprise. Before he could respond, a few stray water droplets from his damp hair splashed onto you, drawing a squeal from your lips.

"Oh no! Angel, I'm so sorry!" he stammered, hastily brushing at your sleeve, his genuine concern making you laugh. He held the golden egg tightly, now safely shut after his latest round of inspections. "But seriously, what are you doing here? You'll be in trouble if anyone finds you sneaking into the prefect's bathroom!"

You snorted, though your heart melted at the way his brows knitted with worry. "Well, I could say the same for you, Yuyu. You're not a prefect either," you quipped with a grin.

He chuckled, the sound echoing in the steamy room as he swam closer to where you sat at the edge of the bath, your legs lazily dangling in the water. Gently, he set the golden egg beside you, then rested his arms on your thighs, gazing up at you with a playful smirk.

"The difference is, I'm a Triwizard Champion," he teased, his grin widening, "and you're not."

Rolling your eyes, you booped his nose with a finger, earning a soft laugh from him. "True, I'm not," you replied, sticking your tongue out cheekily. "But I am your girlfriend, so that grants me a special privilege, doesn't it?"

Yunho's gaze softened as he beamed up at you, water glistening on his face like tiny jewels. "Yeah," he murmured, his voice warm and affectionate. "It definitely does."

With a tender smile, you reached out to brush the water from his face, gently pushing his damp hair back from his eyes. Your heart skipped a beat when he instinctively leaned into your touch, his warmth grounding you despite the growing tension in your chest.

"You haven't answered me yet," you reminded him softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "Have you figured out the answer to the second task?"

He nodded, his hand lifting to cover yours on his cheek, holding it in place as though it anchored him. He gave your fingers a soft, reassuring squeeze. "I have," he murmured, his gaze meeting yours with a quiet intensity. "But... I don't want you to freak out. Everything's going to be okay, I promise."

Despite his comforting tone, the knot in your stomach tightened. You tried to mask it with a cheeky smile, nudging him lightly with your foot in the water. "Suuure, Yuyu. I totally believe you when you say these tasks will get easier. I mean, it's not like the first one involved dragons or anything."

Your boyfriend sighed, a bittersweet smile tugging at his lips. You knew he was thinking about the moment his name had been announced as the Hogwarts champion—the wave of fear that had gripped you as the Great Hall erupted in cheers.

He had submitted his name on a whim, more as a joke than anything. He hadn't thought for a second he'd actually be chosen. But of course, you should've known better. He was Jung Yunho—the school's golden boy. Everyone adored him, from his endless optimism to his natural charm. He could light up any room he walked into and never turned away anyone in need. His wild card selection had shocked everyone, but he had embraced it with the same unshakable enthusiasm he brought to everything in life.

For him, the Triwizard Tournament was an adventure, a chance to make memories and new friends. For you, it was a constant worry. You knew the dangers far too well, and it terrified you. Still, when he had emerged victorious after the first task, his joy had been contagious, and you told yourself you had to let your fear go. You couldn't hold him back from greatness. He needed your support, and you were determined to be the girlfriend he deserved.

Leaning forward, you pressed a quick kiss to his lips, hoping it would reassure him as much as it did you. "Alright," you whispered, brushing your thumb along his jaw. "So tell me. What's the second task?"

Before you could pull away, he held onto you, wrapping an arm around your waist and resting his forehead against yours. His voice softened, steady but laced with a vulnerability he rarely showed.

"The Black Lake," he said quietly. "I... I have a feeling I'm going to need you to get through this task."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, but the conviction in his eyes made you hold your ground. Whatever this task demanded, you knew one thing for sure: you'd face it together.

And his predictions couldn't have been more accurate—he and the champions from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons had an hour to retrieve something that had been stolen from them from the merpeople's village beneath the Black Lake.

The lake was eerily silent, its surface shimmering under the overcast sky as Yunho broke through the water, gasping for air. His strong arms cradled you protectively, his chest rising and falling in rapid bursts. The tension that had gripped him since the start of the task finally began to ease now that you were safe in his embrace.

You coughed violently, expelling the icy water from your lungs, your breaths coming in sharp, shallow bursts. The fragments of what had happened began piecing themselves together in your mind—the haunting stillness of the underwater village, the muffled echo of water all around, and your boyfriend's words from the prefect's bathroom resurfacing with a jarring clarity: "I have a feeling I'm going to need you to get through this task."

He had been right.

The task wasn't just about retrieving an object of value—it was about recovering the most precious thing stolen from them.

For Yunho, that had been you.

"Oh thank god, you're alright," he murmured, his voice thick with relief as he guided you onto the shore. The cheers and applause from the crowd were a distant hum in the background, drowned out by the pounding of his heart. Grabbing a towel, he draped it over your shoulders, enveloping you in its warmth before pulling you close. His arms wrapped around you securely, as though anchoring you back to him and shielding you from the chill that clung to the air.

You pressed your forehead against his shoulder, his familiar scent grounding you amidst the chaos of the moment. Despite the lingering cold, a soft smile crept onto your lips. Your voice, though weak, carried an unwavering sincerity. "How could I not be? You'll always save me… my hero."

His grip on you tightened at your words, his heart swelling with emotion as he buried his face in your hair. "Always," he whispered, his voice steady but laced with the weight of his promise. "Now I understand how hard it is for you to worry about me. I promise I'll make it out alive, every time—for you."

The announcement of his second-place finish barely registered. Everything seemed insignificant in the face of what truly mattered. All that filled his mind was the undeniable fact that you were safe, right here in his arms—the one person he cared for most.

Yeosang ↠ Ravenclaw

The Annoying Ace

"Hey, Kang! What'd you get for Potions? There's no way you aced it this time—it was brutal, and you barely studied before the test," a fellow Ravenclaw called out, pulling Yeosang from his thoughts. He glanced up, a small, nonchalant smile gracing his lips as he held up his graded paper. "You're right, it was tough. I only got an A- this time."

The room fell silent. His classmates stared at him, their jaws nearly hitting the floor. Was he serious? Most of the class had barely scraped by, even after endless hours of revision. Seventh-year Potions was no joke, filled with the most complex and challenging formulas known to the wizarding world.

"Only an A-? Are you kidding me? Did you bribe the professor or something?" someone blurted out, their voice tinged with disbelief.

You, seated next to your boyfriend, shot them a sharp glare. "Say that again in front of Professor Slughorn. I dare you," you retorted, crossing your arms.

The student huffed indignantly, muttering under their breath. "Whatever. You probably cheated with Felix Felicis or something."

Before you could unleash another scathing comeback, Yeosang gently placed a hand on your shoulder, his calm demeanour soothing your rising temper. His ever-composed smile didn't waver as he addressed the accusation. "Well," he began, his voice light but laced with quiet confidence, "if we were skilled enough to brew the Liquid Luck flawlessly and effectively, wouldn't that alone prove we deserve our grades?"

The remark landed with perfect precision, leaving everyone speechless. They knew he had a point. Brewing the luck potion wasn't just difficult—it was borderline impossible for most, requiring six months of meticulous preparation and risking catastrophic failure if done even slightly wrong.

The room buzzed with unspoken thoughts. If you and Yeosang could pull off such a feat, would the Potions exam have been challenging for either of you?

Your lips quirked into a satisfied smile as you exchanged a glance with your boyfriend. That was just like him—always shutting down his doubters with quiet brilliance, never needing to raise his voice to prove his worth.

"Man, I really need to learn how to be as effortlessly cool as you," you teased, giving his shoulder a playful nudge as he led you by the hand out of the classroom and toward the courtyard for some fresh air.

He glanced at you, his usual relaxed grin softening into something fonder. "You're already the coolest person to me," he replied casually as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Your cheeks warmed instantly, and you lightly smacked his arm, looking away as you bit your lip to hide the spreading blush. Even now, you could hardly believe he had accepted your confession back then—and that he was now your boyfriend. To you, he had always seemed so distant, so untouchable, like a star out of reach.

That was, until the day he noticed you struggling with a potion after class and offered to help. You hadn't known it at the time, but that small moment of kindness would lead to something far greater.

Yeosang is that Ravenclaw—the one who always seems lost in his thoughts yet somehow aces every test with ease, charming every professor in the process. He's the envy of his classmates, who burn the midnight oil studying while he effortlessly secures perfect scores. His calm, almost ethereal demeanour only adds to the intrigue, making him a bit of a mystery to everyone around him.

No one can figure out how he manages to zone out during Potions lessons and still brew flawless draughts, but they're too in awe (and slightly frustrated) to ask. It's just him—an enigma wrapped in quiet confidence, and somehow, he was yours.

"But seriously, Yeo, have you actually managed to perfect your luck potion? Don't think I didn't notice Professor Slughorn sneaking glances your way. He really did trust you to brew some for him, didn't he?" you asked, leaning your head against his shoulder, fingers gently squeezing his where they were intertwined with yours.

He hummed softly, the sound vibrating against you as he rested his head atop yours. With a flick of his wand, he cast a subtle charm to deflect a stray prank from a group of cheeky Gryffindors playing with products from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. The spell stopped the flying object just before it could land anywhere near you. Your heart fluttered at his nonchalant protectiveness, and you couldn't help but notice the envious sighs from a few girls nearby.

"I'll answer that," he murmured, his tone teasing, "when you tell me how you managed to brew such a flawless Amortentia draught."

You blinked, lifting your head to meet his gaze. "The love potion? What are you talking about? I've never even tried to make one."

A small smile tugged at his lips, and he reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "Are you sure about that?"

You furrowed your brows, your confusion deepening. "Yes, I'm sure," you replied, your tone laced with scepticism. But before you could press him further, he leaned in and stole a quick kiss, leaving you gasping softly in surprise. Your hand flew to your lips, cheeks aflame as you tried to process what just happened.

Yeosang chuckled at your flustered reaction, his arm slipping securely around your back as he guided you to keep walking. "Then explain how you managed to make me so hopelessly enamoured with you," he said, his voice low but teasing. "It's the only logical explanation for how smitten I am."

"Oh, obviously. That's the only logical explanation," you burst out laughing, playfully trying to push him away, but he held firm, his grip steady yet gentle.

He chuckled along with you, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head. "Exactly, my love. You've clearly bewitched me, and I have no intention of breaking free."

"The feeling's mutual, my darling genius."

San ↠ Slytherin

The Intimidating Head Boy Who's Secretly a Softie

"Oh, come on, Pumpkin! When will you learn to leave the Monster Book of Monsters alone?!" San groaned in exasperation, his eyes following his mischievous cat as it darted around, narrowly avoiding the snapping Care of Magical Creatures textbook that was now chasing it across the yard. The naughty feline had somehow managed to unclasp the book—again. "Come here, you stubborn little thing!" he called, swooping in to scoop up the cat.

With practised ease, he approached the wild book, stroking its spine gently until it calmed and locked itself shut, just as Hagrid had taught. Of course, San was probably the only one who had actually paid attention to that particular lesson.

A dramatic gasp caught his attention, and he turned to find you standing nearby, a teasing grin plastered across your face.

"Well well, who would've thought? The scary and intimidating Choi San names his cat Pumpkin? And a cat, no less? I always pictured you with an owl or a crow. Guess you're a softie after all. Wait till the rest of the house finds out."

He rolled his eyes but smirked, settling back into his seat behind Hagrid's hut. "Go ahead and tell them, sweetheart. It's not like I asked anyone to see me as the 'mean and cold Slytherin.' If they want to believe that, then that's on them."

You chuckled and took a seat beside him, watching as he cooed at his cat and peppered it with kisses. "So, what's a big bad boy like you doing out here, hm?"

"Detention, obviously," he deadpanned, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Fits my reputation, doesn't it?"

You shook your head knowingly, the corner of your lips curling upward. "If that's what you're calling it, sure. But Hagrid told me you were out here for some extra lessons on Hippogriffs when I passed him earlier."

He feigned a pout, resting his chin on Pumpkin's head. "Damn, you caught me. There goes my big bad boy image. Boohoo."

You burst out laughing, unable to hold it in.

San had always been an enigma to those around him. With his sharp, commanding presence and role as Head Boy, he had a reputation for being unapproachable. First-years practically scrambled out of his way in the corridors. But those who dared get to know him soon discovered that beneath the piercing gaze and confident swagger was a playful, caring soul who adored magical creatures.

And you? You were supposedly his rival—his female counterpart, according to your peers. With your equally composed demeanour and role as Head Girl, it wasn't uncommon for people to pit the two of you against each other. But those who looked closer would've seen the truth: you were far from rivals. If anything, you were two halves of the same warm, hidden flame, especially when it came to each other.

"Well, I hope you don't mind me joining you on your little detention, Choi," you teased, leaning your head against his shoulder.

He hummed thoughtfully, nuzzling his head against yours. "On one condition."

"And what's that?" you glanced up at him.

He bit his lip, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Let me take you to Hogsmeade this weekend, Head Girl."

"Alright, alright. None of that in my class," Hagrid's booming voice cut through the moment, startling both of you as you quickly pulled apart, clearing your throats in unison.

San shifted awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck while you tried—and failed—to suppress a laugh.

Hagrid folded his massive arms across his chest, his bushy eyebrows raised knowingly. "We're only doing this if you're both serious, okay? This isn't some fun little date idea."

You nodded earnestly, though the corners of your lips twitched with amusement. "Of course, Professor. We're serious about this."

But Hagrid wasn't done.

Turning his attention to the Head Boy, he added, "But please, do take her to Hogsmeade, lad. I've heard more than enough from you about how much you like her."

San's eyes widened, his cheeks instantly flushing a deep crimson. "H-Hagrid!" he stammered, his voice a pitch higher than usual.

You couldn't hold it in anymore, bursting into laughter as he glared at you half-heartedly. "Oh, you're never living this down," you teased, nudging his arm.

"I—uh—yes, sir," he mumbled, his voice barely audible as he stared down at the ground, clearly flustered.

The professor chuckled, giving a hearty clap to the young man's shoulder that nearly made him stumble. "That's what I like to hear, Choi. Now, back to work, both of you. Those Hippogriffs aren't going to train themselves."

As Hagrid lumbered away, you leaned closer to San, grinning. "So, how much do you like me, Choi San?"

He groaned, his hands covering his face. "Can we just focus on the Hippogriffs?"

"Not a chance," you replied smugly, your laughter ringing out as his ears turned an even brighter shade of red.

The journey back to the common room was filled with quiet comfort, but as you both stepped through the entrance, his demeanour shifted instantly. Gone was the flustered boy from earlier; in his place stood the stoic and commanding Head Boy, his sharp gaze sweeping over the lounging students.

"Keep it down," he said curtly to a group of rowdy second-years, his tone leaving no room for argument. They immediately quieted, murmuring apologies.

You bit back a smile, watching his transformation with newfound amusement. After seeing the playful, gentle side of him during the lesson with Hagrid, this intimidating persona of his now seemed more endearing than imposing. It was his way of keeping the chaos in check, and you couldn't help but admire how effortlessly he switched between the two sides of himself.

As you trailed behind him, snippets of hushed whispers reached your ears.

"Did they come back together?"

"Isn't that the Head Girl?"

"Are they… you know?"

You glanced at San and caught the slight gulp he tried to conceal, his stiff posture giving away his unease despite his poker face.

When you both reached the point where the dorms split, you turned to him, raising an eyebrow. He stood tall, keeping his expression neutral, though you could see the faintest flicker of nervousness in his eyes. The room fell silent, the curious gazes of your housemates fixed on the two of you.

You smirked, breaking the tension. "So, Hogsmeade this weekend, right?"

His eyes widened, and a soft gasp rippled through the common room. He cleared his throat, trying to maintain his composure as he met your gaze. "You… accept?"

You shrugged nonchalantly, though the playful glint in your eyes betrayed your amusement. "Well, you did say I could only join you earlier if I agreed to this. Seeing as we've already finished the lesson, that clearly means I've accepted, no?"

For a moment, his carefully constructed mask faltered, replaced by a grin so wide and boyish that it made your heart skip a beat. He didn't care about the whispers anymore as he stepped closer, his hand reaching out to give yours a gentle squeeze.

"It's a date then, Head Girl."

You smiled back, your voice light but teasing as you replied, "Sounds good, Head Boy."

The room erupted into murmurs and low cheers as you turned and walked toward your dorm, feeling his gaze follow you until you disappeared from sight. If San had been worried about his reputation before, it was clear now that he didn't care.

Not when it came to you.

Mingi ↠ Ravenclaw

The Son of a Famous Wizard Scientist

"Going somewhere, Song?"

Mingi cursed under his breath, reluctantly pulling the invisibility cloak off his frame to face you. You sat casually in one of the Ravenclaw common room chairs, a book in hand and an amused smirk playing on your lips. He looked thoroughly defeated. "How do you always figure me out?"

You chuckled, closing your book and setting it aside as you straightened up. "It's not that hard with your lack of stealth. I feel the breeze every time you pass by. Honestly, the real mystery is how Filch hasn't caught you yet."

He crossed his arms with a huff, a pout forming on his lips. "Ugh, what's it gonna take for you to pretend you didn't see me? My dad cannot find out. Name your price."

You tapped your chin, standing to your full height and eyeing the Marauder's Map in his hands. "I want in on whatever you're up to."

His brows shot up in surprise. "You? But aren't you like... the model Ravenclaw? Goody two shoes, follows every rule, reads for fun? Why would you risk your squeaky-clean image for something like this?"

You shrugged, a mischievous glint in your eye. "Let's just say I'm curious about what the great wizard scientist's son is always sneaking off to do instead of, I don't know, living up to everyone's—and your father's—expectations."

He sighed in defeat, lifting his left arm to gesture for you to join him under the cloak. "Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you. Just make sure you can keep up. And for Merlin's sake, please tell me your stealth skills are better than mine. You really don't want to run into Mrs. Norris."

"Trust me, I wouldn't dream of it," you replied, ducking under the cloak with him, your heart racing at the prospect of finally joining him on one of his adventures.

And so, that night marked the beginning of an unlikely yet thrilling partnership: you and Song Mingi, partners-in-crime navigating Hogwarts past curfew.

For someone as studious and rule-abiding as you, it was a surprising twist to find yourself sneaking through hidden passageways, clutching an invisibility cloak, and dodging prefects alongside someone like Mingi. But there was something irresistibly intriguing about him—the way he effortlessly balanced his rebellious streak with a sharp intellect, and how his lighthearted demeanour contrasted with the heavy expectations placed upon him.

You see, unlike your ordinary self, his life was all about finding his own path despite the pressures of his family name. As the son of a renowned wizarding scientist, expectations for him to follow in those illustrious footsteps were high. But Mingi? He wasn't interested in being defined by anyone else's legacy.

Sure, he had the smarts for it—his insights into magical theories often surprised you, even when they were thrown in casually during one of your late-night escapades. But instead of shouldering the weight of those expectations, he found joy in simply being himself. He explored magic for the sake of curiosity, not obligation.

Of course, it was hard for someone like him to truly fly under the radar. With his tall frame and infectious laugh, he had a knack for drawing attention no matter how much he tried to avoid it. He'd always play it off with an easy grin, though—effortlessly charming his way out of trouble (well, most of the time).

And now, here you were, walking beside him in the dead of night, laughing softly at his whispered commentary about the portraits on the walls. It was a side of him most people didn't see—carefree, thoughtful, and incredibly warm.

"Alright, where to next, partner?" you asked, barely containing your grin as you reached a fork in the corridor.

He glanced at the map, his finger tracing a path. "A secret stash of sweets hidden near the kitchens. Wanna check it out?"

"Only if you're willing to share," you teased, bumping his shoulder lightly.

He smirked, holding the cloak open as you ducked beneath it again. "Deal. But only because I need you to distract the house elves if we get caught."

With that, the two of you disappeared into the night, laughter echoing softly down the empty hallways. It was the start of a friendship, and perhaps something more that, against all odds, just worked.

On one of the slower days at school, the two of you lounged in the Great Hall, a wizard's chessboard between you. The usual hum of scattered conversations and the clinking of goblets provided a quiet backdrop as Mingi hunched over the board, his tall frame bent in concentration. His eyes darted between pieces, plotting his next move with a focus that made you smirk.

"I've got an idea," you said, leaning back with a teasing grin. "Whoever loses has to take on a dare during tonight's adventure."

His head shot up, a glimmer of intrigue lighting up his eyes. He grinned, his expression a mix of mischief and admiration for the rebellious streak you seemed to save just for him. "Oh, it's on."

The match stretched out with calculated moves and sly counters, both of you pouring focus into claiming victory. But when your queen finally cornered his king, you leaned back with a triumphant grin. "Checkmate," you declared, watching the realisation dawn on his face.

He groaned theatrically, throwing his head back. "Noooo!"

You laughed, folding your arms smugly. "Now, about that dare..."

He straightened in his seat, narrowing his eyes as he tried to guess your plan. "Alright, hit me with your worst."

A mischievous gleam danced in your eyes as you leaned forward and whispered, "Tonight, when we sneak out, you have to charm Moaning Myrtle with your best pickup lines."

His jaw dropped, his ears turning an amusing shade of red. "You want me to flirt with a ghost?!"

"That's the dare," you said, grinning wider.

He blinked at you in disbelief, then let out a booming laugh, shaking his head. "You're insane. But fine—a deal's a deal."

As the two of you packed up, you noticed a flicker of something softer in his gaze. He clearly enjoyed this side of you, the playful daring you didn't often let others see.

The night was quiet as you snuck through the dark hallways, huddled beneath the invisibility cloak. The close proximity made it impossible to ignore the way your shoulders brushed, or how you could feel his breath softly against your ear as he whispered directions. You tried to focus, but the warmth radiating from him and the faint smell of his cologne made it difficult.

He wasn't faring any better. His movements felt unusually cautious, his arm brushing against yours more often than necessary, his voice a little lower than usual when he whispered, "Careful where you step."

Ironically, it was his warning that broke your concentration. Your foot landed on something uneven, and before you could stop yourself, you tripped, sending a potted plant toppling from its perch.

The crash echoed loudly through the corridor. "What was that?!" Filch's voice screeched in the distance, sending panic shooting through you both.

"Move!" Mingi hissed, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the nearest room. The door creaked shut just as the school caretaker's hurried footsteps grew louder.

You realised, to your dismay, that the "room" was a cramped broom cupboard. The two of you were squished together in the small space, the invisibility cloak still draped awkwardly over your heads. Your breathing was ragged from the sudden sprint, and you both struggled to keep quiet as Filch's grumbling grew nearer.

"Stupid kids sneaking around… I'll catch them sooner or later," he muttered as his footsteps faded in the opposite direction.

Only when the sound of his boots disappeared entirely did you dare to speak. "We're safe now," you whispered.

"Yeah," Mingi murmured back, his voice quieter than usual.

That's when you noticed just how close you were. Your heart stuttered as you looked up, your nose grazing his. His dark eyes locked onto yours, and you could feel his breath, warm and shallow, mingling with your own. Neither of you moved, the air between you was charged and heavy.

He swallowed hard, his hand slowly brushing against yours beneath the cloak. "I know I lost the game," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "But... is it alright if I flirt with someone else tonight?"

Your breath caught, your thoughts spinning as he leaned in closer, his lips barely brushing yours.

"That depends on who it is," you whispered back, your voice shaky.

He smiled softly, his eyes flicking between yours and your lips. "You."

Your heart skipped a beat. Without thinking, your hand slid up to grip the collar of his shirt as you murmured, "Fine."

Then, closing the final distance, you pressed your lips to his. When you finally pulled away, the world felt different as you stayed close, foreheads touching. He let out a soft chuckle, his thumb brushing over your cheek. "Best dare I've ever lost."

You smiled. "Guess I'll have to keep challenging you then, Song."

"Guess you will," he whispered, leaning in for another kiss.

Wooyoung ↠ Gryffindor

The Talented Quidditch Beater

"Woo, you got it! That's my boy!"

The sound of your voice rang out across the pitch, instantly catching Wooyoung's attention. A grin lit up his face as he turned mid-flight on his Nimbus 2000, his eyes sparkling as they met yours.

"I'll make you proud, babe!" he called back, his tone brimming with confidence.

"Not if you can't keep your eyes on the game," his teammate—another Beater—shouted, swooping in just in time to deflect a bludger barreling toward him.

His eyes widened at the close call before a sheepish, boyish grin spread across his face. "Thanks, mate. That was a little too close!"

He turned his attention back to you, throwing you a playful wink and blowing a kiss in your direction. "Love you," he mouthed with a quick smirk, clearly revelling in the way your worried gaze softened into a smile.

And then, just like that, he was off again, zooming across the pitch like the fearless champ he was, ready to win not just for his team, but for the person cheering him on from the stands.

Pride swelled in your chest like a warm, unrelenting tide as you watched your boyfriend play. It was almost surreal to think about how far the two of you had come—especially since there was a time when you couldn't stand him.

Back then, Jung Wooyoung was everything you couldn't tolerate: loud, attention-seeking, and constantly wreaking havoc with his pranks. He was the popular Gryffindor Quidditch star with a magnetic grin, always surrounded by friends and admirers. Meanwhile, you were his polar opposite—a shy, studious student with no interest in shenanigans, focused solely on excelling in your studies and making your parents proud.

It all started when one of his pranks nearly ruined your Transfiguration assignment. Furious, you'd confronted him in front of half the common room, calling him reckless and immature. Wooyoung, never one to back down, had retaliated with a smirk, calling you boring and stiff. That marked the beginning of your rivalry—petty remarks, pointed glares, and intentionally getting on each other's nerves became routine.

But everything changed the day he overheard a group of Slytherins mocking you. Their cruel taunts about your Muggle heritage—and the word "Mudblood" slicing through the air—left you reeling. Before you could even muster a response, he stepped in, his usual playful demeanour replaced by something sharp and unyielding.

"What did you just say?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. The bullies faltered under his glare, and though they tried to brush it off, he didn't let them escape unscathed. He stood firm, defending you with a conviction that left you stunned.

From that day on, the dynamic between you shifted. He made it clear that no one was to mess with you—not even his own friends, who had occasionally targeted you with harmless pranks. In return, you stopped berating him for his antics, accepting that his mischief was simply part of who he was. Over time, you found yourself laughing at his jokes, and he discovered a softer side to you that few others had ever seen.

Years passed, and that fragile truce evolved into friendship. Somewhere along the way, the friendship blossomed into something deeper, something neither of you could ignore. And now, here you were, standing in the Gryffindor stands, cheering him on with every fibre of your being.

Only after being with him did you truly understand why so many adored him for his talent. On the pitch, he was in his element. As a Beater, he thrived on adrenaline, his bat swinging with precision as he sent a bludger hurtling toward the opposing team. He was a natural showman, hyping up the crowd with daring plays and cheeky winks. Though his mischievous nature was ever-present, he became fiercely competitive during matches, his focus unshakable when it came to leading his house to victory.

You smiled as he executed a flawless manoeuvre, his laughter echoing across the pitch when the crowd erupted into cheers. He was so different from the boy you had once disliked, yet so quintessentially the same. His charm, his energy, his ability to make everyone around him feel alive—it was impossible not to love him for it.

"Watch this, babe!" he called as he rocketed past the stands, his grin wide and unrestrained. He was a whirlwind of passion and joy, and he was yours. And somehow, you wouldn't have it any other way.

"Aaaand Gryffindor wins!"

The roar of the crowd filled the stadium as the Gryffindor Seeker triumphantly held up the golden snitch, the tiny wings glinting under the bright sun. Cheers echoed through the stands, Gryffindor flags waving wildly in celebration. You cheered, knowing that much of this victory was thanks to your boyfriend, who had spent the game clearing the path for his teammate with skilful swings of his bat.

Amid the chaos, Wooyoung's sharp eyes immediately sought you out. Despite the throng of screaming fans and his own teammates clamouring to celebrate, all he could see was you. Without hesitation, he veered his broom in your direction, ignoring the unmistakable warning glare from Professor McGonagall.

Hovering in front of you, he flashed his signature grin, his chest rising and falling from the adrenaline of the match. Before you could say a word, he leaned in and kissed you, his lips warm and slightly chapped from the cold wind. The crowd's cheers seemed to fade as you felt his smile against your own, your cheeks heating with the realisation of how public this display was.

When you pulled away, your voice was barely above a whisper. "That's enough, Woo. You don't want detention now, do you?"

He laughed, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I wouldn't mind it if you were there too." With a wink, he flew off to join his team, leaving you blinking sheepishly under Professor McGonagall's sharp gaze.

You cleared your throat, attempting to smooth down your robes as you mumbled, "Sorry, Professor."

To your surprise, her expression softened, and she gestured for you to walk with her as the stands began to empty. "Don't be," she said, her voice measured but kind. "You're a good motivator for him. We appreciate it. I won't lie and say our victories haven't increased since you came into the picture."

Her words left you blushing furiously as you followed her down the steps. Did that mean even she shipped you and Wooyoung? The very thought had you hiding a bashful smile behind your scarf, the cheers of the Gryffindor team still ringing in your ears.

Jongho ↠ Slytherin

The Scary Prefect Who Commands Respect

"There he is! Shhh, keep it down!"

Your friends scrambled to settle into their seats, hastily lowering their voices and pretending to focus on the books in front of them. You followed their lead, keeping your head down as the most intimidating prefect of Slytherin entered the library. Choi Jongho's very name was enough to make most students sit up straight, and his imposing presence only amplified that effect. His silence carried more weight than words ever could, commanding obedience and respect effortlessly.

You swallowed hard, trying to concentrate on the text in front of you, but your focus wavered the moment his footsteps stopped—right beside you. Your heart raced as you eyed his polished shoes, unsure if you'd done something wrong. Too nervous to meet his gaze, you froze in place, waiting for whatever came next.

"Here. I think you dropped this," he said, his voice low yet unexpectedly warm.

Your eyes widened at the gentle tone, and you glanced up to see him holding out your late father's pocket watch. The faintest trace of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips—so fleeting you wondered if you'd imagined it.

"O-oh, thank you," you stammered, taking the cherished item from him. A spark shot through you when your fingers brushed against his, leaving your heart fluttering in a way you hadn't anticipated.

"You're welcome," he replied simply, his voice kind yet measured, before continuing on his patrol.

As you watched him walk away, a realisation settled in your mind—perhaps he wasn't as fearsome as everyone claimed.

Jongho's reputation was well-earned. As a Slytherin prefect, he didn't need to raise his voice to maintain order. A single stern look was enough to make any student think twice about misbehaving, and his word was as final as it was rare. Yet, those who truly knew him understood there was more to him than his intimidating exterior. Beneath the cool, composed demeanour was a steadfast friend with a laugh that could shatter his usual seriousness in an instant.

And soon, you would become one of the few to witness that softer side of him—though, for now, you had no idea what lay ahead.

It was on a particularly eerie evening that you would come to learn the truth. The air hung heavy with an unsettling stillness as you wandered along the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, seeking solitude to clear your mind after a gruelling week. The low-hanging clouds cloaked the forest in shadows, and the quiet seemed almost too oppressive.

But peace was the last thing you found.

A low, menacing growl rippled through the trees, stopping you dead in your tracks. Your breath caught as you turned, your wand trembling in your hand, to face a pair of glowing eyes cutting through the darkness.

A werewolf.

Your heart pounded wildly as the creature advanced, its snarling lips curling back to reveal rows of sharp teeth. Panic seized you. You tried to cast a spell, but fear made your movements clumsy, and the incantation faltered on your tongue. The werewolf snarled again, its deadly intent unmistakable.

You were sure you were doomed.

Suddenly, a thunderous roar shattered the tense silence, startling both you and the beast. From the shadows emerged a massive bear, its fur bristling and eyes blazing with an otherworldly fury. The bear wasted no time, charging at the werewolf with raw power and unmatched ferocity.

Their clash was brutal and swift, the werewolf no match for the bear's strength and determination. Before long, the defeated creature limped off into the safety of the forest, leaving you frozen in place, trembling from head to toe.

The bear turned its attention to you, its intelligent gaze locking onto yours. Despite your fear, there was something strangely familiar in the way it looked at you—almost protective.

And then, to your utter disbelief, the bear began to shift. Its enormous form shrank, fur receding as its features morphed into something distinctly human. In a matter of moments, you found yourself staring at Choi Jongho, his sharp eyes unwavering as they met yours.

"You…" The word barely escaped your lips, your voice a mere whisper. "You're an animagus?"

His jaw tightened briefly before he nodded. "Yes," he admitted, his tone steady but quiet.

You blinked, your mind racing to process what you had just witnessed. It wasn't just the transformation that left you reeling—it was the way he had risked himself to save you. "Why didn't you tell anyone?" you finally managed.

He let out a soft sigh, running a hand through his hair. For the first time, you saw the stoic facade crack, revealing something raw beneath. "People already think I'm intimidating enough," he said, his voice laced with vulnerability. "If they knew I could turn into a bear, they'd see me as a monster. Even if I chose this form to protect, not harm."

Your chest tightened at his words, at the loneliness he must have carried. His stern demeanour suddenly made sense—it was a shield, a way to keep others from seeing the parts of himself he feared they wouldn't understand.

"But it's not a bad thing," you said softly, taking a step closer. "You became an animagus for a noble reason. That says more about who you are than anything else."

His gaze softened, the hard lines of his face easing just slightly. "I appreciate that," he murmured. "But not everyone would see it the same way. People fear what they don't understand."

For the first time, you saw through the intimidating exterior everyone else feared. Beneath it all, he was just someone who cared deeply, someone who bore the weight of his secrets quietly for the sake of those around him.

"Thank you for saving me," you said earnestly, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside you. "Your secret's safe with me. I promise."

He nodded, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "It's my pleasure," he replied, his tone warm yet reserved. "Now, you should get back. It's not safe out here."

"And you?"

"I'll make sure the forest is clear," he assured you, his protective instincts shining through. "Go. I'll be right behind you."

As you made your way back to the castle, your mind was consumed with thoughts of Jongho. The boy who had just saved your life was so much more than the fearsome prefect everyone believed him to be. And now, you carried a piece of his truth, a secret that revealed a depth to him you never would have imagined.

From then on, something shifted.

You became one of the few who dared to hold his gaze, the rare recipient of his fleeting smiles. Where others saw the intimidating Slytherin prefect, you saw the quiet strength and vulnerability he kept hidden beneath the surface. And nothing shocked people more than seeing him sit next to you at breakfast in the Great Hall.

Whispers rippled through the tables, curious and incredulous alike. Choi Jongho, the stoic and fearsome prefect, sitting with someone? A girl? The novelty was enough to turn heads, but what truly caught people's attention was the way he looked at you.

There was something unmistakable in his eyes—a quiet affection, soft and unguarded, as if your presence unravelled the walls he so carefully maintained.

He glanced over at you as you finished your meal, his expression relaxed yet tinged with curiosity. "Where are you headed after this?" he asked, his tone casual but attentive.

You wiped your hands with a napkin, smiling up at him. "The Duelling Club."

His eyebrows rose in mild surprise. "The Duelling Club? But why?"

You bit back a laugh at his incredulity, placing your fork down with an amused shake of your head. "Because someone with a very admirable trait has inspired me," you said, your voice warm with sincerity. "To be stronger, to protect those around me too."

The words caught him off guard, and you watched as his usual composure faltered. He blinked, a faint flush creeping up his neck and into his cheeks. The sight was endearing, a rare glimpse of boyishness in the otherwise composed prefect.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, reaching for his goblet of pumpkin juice and taking a long sip as if it might steady him. Setting it down, he muttered softly, "You don't have to." His eyes flickered to yours, vulnerable but earnest. "You'll always have me."

Your chest warmed at his words, his quiet promise resonating deeply. He might have been the boy feared by many, but to you, he was simply someone who cared more deeply than he let on.

You leaned forward slightly, a teasing smile playing on your lips. "I know," you said, your voice gentle but firm. "But it doesn't hurt to know how to hold my own, does it?"

He exhaled a quiet chuckle, the corner of his lips curving upward in a rare but genuine smile. "Fair enough," he conceded, his gaze lingering on yours for a moment longer before turning back to his plate. "But I'm coming with."

Any fellow Potterheads here? Humour this poor author and tell me about your Hogwarts house, your favourite Harry Potter book/movie as well as your favourite character! Most importantly, let me know if you agree with the houses I've sorted the members into!

Hope you enjoyed this! As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

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