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partycatty · 1 month

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I don’t know if you’re open to requests but me and my friend have this hc and I would like to see your rendition of it. The reader is stressed about their Algebra test coming up and since Johnny has a PhD in quantum mechanics and deals with that stuff, he offers to help. And as the reader is thinking on the problem Johnny gives them, they put the pencil in their mouth seductively but are unaware of it and Johnny gets a little… riled up. And you can take it from there :)

Love ya !! 🥰💜

ough i love me a big smart man

johnny cage > teach you a lesson

notes: my last fic took all of my mental strength for smut for now so it's only gonna be implied

[ masterlist ]

• damn you and your stubbornness, you're here trying to get your engineering degree and the class you put off all these years finally creeps up on you... and you hate math. thankfully, your best friend has a phd (which still baffles you when you think about it too much; not that he's stupid, more that it's so out of left field for him that you thought he was joking when he first told you).

• knocking on his door, he answers so quickly you wonder if he tumbled down the stairs to answer you in record time. he was always ready to do anything you asked of him, so you knew he was the right person to go to

• you explain the situation, about how you're teetering on the edge of just tearing your textbooks apart with your teeth before he slows you down with his hands on your shoulders.

• johnny ushers you in, welcoming you to his dining room after sweeping the various accumulation of stuff littering every surface to a degree.

• johnny's smarter than you gave him credit for, focusing on his well-articulated lecture but you find yourself missing the middle portion of his lessons when his veiny arms are exposed as he rolls up his shirt. his hands were so defined, so strong...

• "are you even listening?" he groans dramatically, waving said head in front of your face. "you wanna pass this class or not?"

• you swallow thickly, though the subject is still shamefully fuzzy in your mind. nodding slowly, johnny pinches the bridge of his nose before resuming.

• "maybe this'll be easier if we..." he leans over your seated form, towering over you as he flips your notes to a blank page over your shoulder. "here." he writes an example equation, a relatively easy one so he could break it down for you.

• shaking the dirty thoughts, you try to pick the equation apart, separating what you know is in the correct order of operations, but you're stumped when the denominators don't add up like they should.

• the tip of your pencil brushes against your bottom lip as your brows knit in thought. it swiped across the width of your lip, pushing in ever so slightly against your teeth as you desperately try to find a way past the confusion.

• johnny falls eerily silent, fists clenching as he breathing feels hot and heavy down your neck. he rubs his face, circling the table with a long sigh. the noise draws your attention, completely oblivious to how tight his pants were from the display.

• "sorry," you sheepishly look down at the paper. "this is... a lot."

• "no... no! you're fine!" johnny snaps himself back to reality at your puppy eyed expression, like his desperation for you was somehow your fault when it was really his for not knowing how to keep things in control.

• you feel smaller as you sink into the chair, trying to retrace your steps through the numbers. instinctively, the pencil finds its way to your mouth again and you gently suck on the shortened eraser, your tongue pressing against the head of it as the multiplication takes its time in your mind.

• johnny chokes on air, punching his chest to hide his flustered face. he can't even look at you or you might notice the steam from his ears.... why were you here again?

• "you're not helping," you remind him teasingly, and he jogs to your side with a cool breath to regulate his temperature. "did i do this right?"

• johnny leans down, his chin almost on your shoulder as he inspects your work. the error stands out to him at lightning speed and he pulls at your wrist, abruptly tugging the pencil from your mouth and slamming it against the table.

• "there," he huffs out, circling the error with his finger. "five over nine. not nine over five." his eyes flick between the back of your head and the pencil, and the way the eraser shines. he might pass out if he thinks too hard about it.

• he should've picked an easier equation so you'd stop thinking so damn hard about this, he thinks. the pencil wanders back between your lips and it's when you bite down on the pink tip his flat palm slaps the table, making everything rattle. you jump and look up with a shocked expression.

• "can you... not." he breathes, cheeks red and brows furrowed.

• "not... what?" you look down, maybe you had a bad habit in the math process?

• "don't do that." he's being vague, it's getting on your nerves.

• "you're gonna have to be clearer."

• "keep that thing away from your mouth," johnny points at your fingers twirling the pencil, an accusatory finger firm like he caught it committing a crime.

• "the pencil?" you're caught off guard, wondering what his issue is.

• "yes, the damn pencil!" he groans, running a hand down his face. "can't think straight for a single second when you're... you know."

• it clicks in your head, what he's asking of you. it flusters you but also fills you with an egotistical desire. you always had a lingering crush on your best friend, but you never wanted to act on it out of fear of losing the best thing that ever happened to you. johnny's deep, dark voice makes your core stir as you think about the possibilities, how to test the waters from here.

• you slowly place it flat against your tongue, trying to ignore the taste as you relish in the way johnny twitches his eye at the sight. he wants to look away but you're forcing him to, that knowing glint fatal for his heart. the thought of your tongue holding the heavy weight of his thumb, or worse, his dick, is driving him up the wall.

• johnny stomps beside you, grabbing your wrist and pulling the pencil away, managing to throw it out of your grasp and capturing your lips with his own as the pencil rolls off on its own adventure.

• his kiss is consuming, far too much for your mind as you grow dizzy at the loss of breath. his hands pull at your face and neck, trying to squish your face against his as he swallows every whimper and gasp for breath you expel.

• just as he pulls away to get oxygen, his thumb slides between your lips and presses against your tongue, your hot and heavy breath driving him wild.

• "are you really trying to do this to me?" he asks as your lips wrap around his finger, sucking gently. his eyes flutter shut and he groans, nodding downward with his head.

• "maybe," you quietly reply through his finger, sinking to your knees in front of him, sliding your hands up his outer thighs. you're perfectly in line with his crotch, but your eyes are too busy admiring the flustered actor above you as he looks down his nose. he pulls his thumb away, groaning at the thin trail of saliva that falls down your lip from the loss.

• "i'll teach you a lesson," he reaches for his belt buckle, the clinking of metal dulling every sense but your hearing.

• you can study later... probably.

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #johnny cage #mk1 #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage smut #mortal kombat smut #marley writes ☆

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map0fthes0ul7 · 5 months

Text

Heartbeats in the halls of academia.

Pairing: Dilf!Ceo!Professor!Jeonghan x Student!reader (ft. Jeonghan's clueless daughter Yena) ((Jeonghan is a whole combo here as y'all can see))

Warnings: Kinda angsty, but they get their happy ending, so hey, that's great!

Word count: 5407

Synopsis: Good ol' forbidden romance between Professor Jeonghan and his student y/n.

Author's note: I hope this one is also going to do well.

The towering figure of Yoon Jeonghan loomed at the front of the lecture hall, his presence commanding the undivided attention of every student seated before him. At 44, the CEO of Yoon Technologies had built an empire on innovation and foresight, and his reputation as a strict yet fair professor at the local university was nothing short of illustrious. With a keen eye that missed no detail and a wit that kept even the most brilliant minds on their toes, Professor Yoon had become a pillar of both the academic and business worlds.

As he lectured on the complexities of quantum mechanics, his voice reverberated through the hall, each word enunciated with knowledge and authority. He adorned a tailored suit, the dark fabric contrasting against his youthfully styled silver hair, his persona exuding a magnetic allure that was not lost on the students.

In the second row sat y/n, a passionate science student whose thoughts often drifted to realms beyond the subject at hand—specifically, to the man who stood just meters away. Y/n's pen poised above the notebook, the equations and theories interspersed with tiny scribbles and incoherent notes that betrayed a distracted mind. Though y/n was introverted, preferring the solace of books and music to the adventures that university life offered, there was one adventure that the heart seemed all too keen to embark upon—a dangerous dalliance with the professor.

Beside y/n, Yena's bright laughter broke the silence that had momentarily engulfed their small corner of the room. Yoon Yena, with her vivacious smile and inexplicable energy, was the image of collegiate exuberance. She was the only child of Jeonghan and the dearest friend y/n had at the university, their bond forged through shared interests and a love for science.

But it was a love of another manner that had y/n's thoughts in turmoil. Unbeknownst to cheerful Yena, y/n harbored a secret adoration for her father, a sentiment that flooded y/n with guilt and longing in equal measure.

As the bell signaled the end of the lecture, the students began to pack up their belongings, the buzz of excited chatter filling the air. Yena leaned over to y/n, her eyes glistening with plans and propositions.

"Are you coming out with us tonight?" Yena's invitation was as predictable as it was well-intentioned.

With a gentle shake of the head, y/n deflected, "I've got a lot on my plate. Maybe next time.

Yena pouted, playful but understanding. "You work too hard, y/n. You should live a little," she teased before bounding off to catch up with a group of her other friends.

Y/n was left alone as the last of the students tricked out of the lecture hall. Alone, that is, except for the man still standing at the front. With the hall emptied, Professor Yoon began to gather his own materials, his astute eyes catching y/n's lingering presence. An imperceptible silence stretched between them, filled only by the faint echo of Yena's laughter as it trailed off into the hallways.

"Is there something you didn't understand about the lecture?" Jeonghan queried, his tone a mix of concern and curiosity.

Mutely, y/n stood and approached the desk where he stood, clutching the notebook like a lifeline. Each step was measured, the heartbeat thundering in y/n's chest a stark contrast to the calm demeanor attempted to be displayed.

"Actually, Professor, I was wondering if you had any suggestions for extra reading. I find the subject fascinating," y/n admitted, looking up through lashes with a sincerity that was as indisputable as it was alluring to the older man.

A smile tugged at the corners of Jeonghan's lips. "I admire your dedication," he praised before writing down a list of books on a piece of paper and handing it over. As their fingertips brushed, an electric jolt of unspoken tension passed between them—an acknowledgement of something deeper than the exchange of scholarly advice.

"I appreciate it," y/n murmured, lingering for a moment too long, and then, with a final glance, turned to leave.

Jeonghan watched y/n's retreating figure, the rush of something forbidden stirring within him. It was a crossing of lines he was usually adept at maintaining, but the more he came to know y/n, the more difficult it became to uphold those barriers. He was acutely aware of the implications, of the ethics of his position. With a small shake of his head, he tried to dismiss the thoughts as mere weakness—at least until the next lecture.

A few days had passed since y/n had approached Jeonghan for extra reading material, and the tension in the air had not dissipated but rather intensified with every sidelong glance exchanged in the lecture hall. Y/n had delved into the recommended texts, each page offering both an insight into quantum mechanics and a connection to Jeonghan that provided a solace for the consuming thoughts.

Yet, the fantasies that played in y/n's mind were a dangerous escape from reality, with their tendrils looping ever tighter around a heart that shouldn't yearn so fervently for the forbidden. In the quiet of y/n's room, filled with stacks of books and soft music playing in the background, it was simple to imagine a different world; one where it wasn't wrong to want someone so unattainable.

Despite the internal conflict, y/n had excelled in the assignments, with Jeonghan's teachings echoing not just in the academic work, but in the daydreams that found their way onto the pages of a private journal.

One particularly late evening, deep in the embrace of the campus library's solitude, y/n realized a crucial textbook—a cornerstone of the upcoming thesis—was missing. It was a rare find, one usually kept in the professors' private collections. Without it, the research would be incomplete, an academic yearning so urgent that it nudged y/n towards an impulsive decision.

Remaining students were few as y/n made the way to Jeonghan's office, the silence interrupted only by the hesitant rhythm of y/n's steps. Reaching the closed door, y/n paused, the words 'Private' and 'Professor Yoon Jeonghan' neatly etched on the plaque. Stealing a breath to quell the rising nerves, y/n knocked softly.

The door creaked open, revealing Jeonghan in his sanctum, shrouded by the soft glow of his desk lamp, his attention undivided from the papers he was marking. He looked up, surprise evident in his features, replaced quickly by an accommodating warmth.

"y/n, what brings you here so late?" he inquired, motioning for y/n to enter.

"The book I need for my thesis isn’t in the library. I was wondering if you might have a copy I could borrow," y/n explained with a hopeful timbre.

A moment of contemplation passed over Jeonghan's face as he stood and walked to one of the many shelves lining the walls. With purposeful strides, he retrieved the desired tome and handed it to y/n with a gentle smile.

"Our little secret," he said softly, an undercurrent of playfulness in his voice that set y/n's heart racing.

As y/n reached out to take the book, their hands touched again, and this time, neither pulled away. Drawn by a force neither understood nor could articulate, they moved closer, a magnetic pull zeroing the space between them.

The first kiss came as a whisper against y/n's lips, soft but filled with the power of suppressed desire. It was a convergence of emotion, a silent confession of the feelings that swirled with reckless abandon in that confined space.

Professor and student, they knew the gravity of what they were doing, yet the kiss deepened, fueled by a hunger that had been waiting in the shadows of their professional façade. It was in that stolen moment, with the taste of the forbidden making the air thick with tension, that y/n and Jeonghan crossed a line from which there was no return.

Outside, the world continued unaware, stars peppering the night sky. Inside, two hearts wrestled with what it meant to be bound by society's rules yet led astray by the anarchy of love. It was only the beginning, the bursting forth of a story written in the quiet language of shared glances and unspoken promises, with consequences neither could predict nor fully comprehend.

In the aftermath of the kiss, the world seemed to stand still. Y/n clutched the treasured book against a chest that heaved with emotions too complex to untangle. Y/n and Jeonghan remained in the quiet cocoon of his office, the taste of their forbidden embrace lingering, an indelible mark on both their souls.

"Y/n," Jeonghan’s voice was a hushed murmur, torn between duty and desire. He stepped back, the space between them expanding like an unfathomable chasm. His eyes, usually so clear and confident, now swam with a conflicting storm.

This was a line they could traverse only once. The kiss—a single brush of lips—had sealed a secret pact, a silent agreement to the flames that licked at the foundations of the world they knew.

"We should forget this happened," Jeonghan's statement was heavy with regret, but his stare held y/n with an intensity that belied his words. He could not un-write the moment any more than y/n could, and they both knew it.

Y/n nodded, though every fiber protested. "Yes, Professor," came the whisper, a futile attempt to sew closed the threads they had so daringly pulled loose. Y/n left the room then, the book a weighty token of a shift in the equilibrium that resonated with every step away from Jeonghan’s office.

In the following weeks, the tension was only mounted. Their interactions in class were laden with a newfound formality, every word and gesture measured with surgical precision. Students and faculty remained oblivious to the undercurrent that hummed beneath the surface, but y/n and Jeonghan were acutely aware. Each glance shared was a brush stroke adding detail to the clandestine picture they had accidentally begun to paint.

Yena, blissfully ignorant of the drama unfolding, continued to be the link between her father and y/n, a bridge that neither could avoid crossing. She commented innocently on how studious y/n was and how proud her father seemed of y/n's academic progress, unwittingly tightening the knot at the juncture where personal and professional lines blurred.

The university’s annual science fair arrived like a gusting wind, all excitement and fluttering papers, with lectures giving way to demonstrations and experiments. Y/n's project, deeply influenced by the recent nights spent traipsing through quantum theory, drew an impressed crowd which included both Yena and, inevitably, Jeonghan.

As y/n presented the findings, expertly explained the complex mechanisms at play, a nervous energy coursed through veins. Jeonghan was there, a silent sentinel whose gaze bore into y/n with an intensity that was difficult to ignore. With each accomplishment that shone in y/n's eyes, Jeonghan's pride was matched by the quiet terror of the mounting bond forming between mentor and student, one he could neither publicly acknowledge nor tear his eyes from.

Yena clapped the loudest when the presentation ended, her cheers carrying a genuine love and pride for y/n. She threw arms around her friend in a congratulatory hug, seemingly deaf to the irregular tempo of y/n's heart—a rhythm that danced uneasily to a melody that spelled out jeopardy in haunting notes.

It was later that day, when the crowds had thinned and the buzz had dulled to a background hum, that Jeonghan approached y/n under the guise of discussing the project further. Yena, ever the social butterfly, had been whisked away by classmates, leaving them in a rare pocket of tranquility amidst the chaos.

"Your understanding of the subject is remarkable," Jeonghan said, his voice low, a treacherous vibrato beneath the compliment.

"Thank you, sir. Your guidance has been invaluable," y/n replied, acutely aware of the double entendre that laced their words.

Their eyes met, and in them, the reflections of that night in Jeonghan's office was a moment frozen in time, pulsing with life unto its own. They spoke of the project at length but danced around the conversation they truly wanted to have—a dangerous tango of words.

The fair wound down, and the sun dipped low, casting an orange glow over the campus grounds. Jeonghan and y/n wandered aimlessly, caught in the gravity of each other's company. The quiet became a living, breathing entity between them—one that whispered the truths they could not voice but felt with a fervor that neither logic nor ethics could silence.

As autumn bled into winter, the campus transformed under a blanket of white. Each flake of snow that settled on the university echoed the silent, frozen sentiment that hung between Professor Yoon Jeonghan and y/n. The secret of their singular kiss was guarded behind the somber walls of professionalism and duty, yet it simmered beneath the ice, yearning for the thaw of admittance.

Y/n navigated the semester with the dual burden of advancing academic ambitions and the weighty secret shared with Jeonghan. The more entrenched y/n became in the scientific exploration, the deeper the mental connection wove its tendrils through thoughts and motives, linking every discovery back to the man who was both mentor and forbidden infatuation.

The precarious balance of their interactions came under quiet scrutiny through the occasional curious glance from peers or the inadvertent, lingering handshake at the end of an earnest academic debate. Yet no concrete suspicion surfaced, their careful orchestration of exchanges nothing if not masterful. To the world, y/n was Jeonghan's most promising student, nothing more, and their determination to maintain that facade grew even as the hidden truth of their affection pulled them together like the unseen forces they so often discussed in lectures.

The approaching break brought a bittersweet solace, a respite from the constant need to conceal their attraction within the confines of the university. Yet, the absence only served to magnify the unresolved tension, to stretch the silence until it sang with a sweet, near unbearable pitch.

As the last of y/n's finals were submitted and the student body dissipated, the quiet of the campus became a reminder of that electric moment in Jeonghan's office, raising questions that thrummed in y/n's pulse.

During the winter break, y/n stayed on campus, lost in the research and theories that did little to distract from thoughts of Jeonghan. The resounding hollowness of the hallways echoed a sense of emptiness that y/n couldn't shake.

Yena, in her usual effervescent manner, had taken a trip abroad, her messages arriving as bursts of joy and snatches of escapades, a contrast to the solemnity that y/n found in books and quiet contemplation. In her absence, the link between y/n and Jeonghan seemed to grow even more tenuous, a frayed connection that was at once a source of agony and comfort.

Y/n's solitude was broken one late evening when a soft knock at the dorm door reverberated through the stillness. A glance through the peephole revealed a sight that caused y/n's heart to cease before thundering against ribs: Jeonghan, adorned in a nondescript coat, a cautious hesitance etched into his dignified features.

Opening the door, y/n found the ability to speak had fled, leaving a silence that Jeonghan stepped into with a careful poise, his presence in the small space nothing short of overwhelming.

"I wanted to check on you," he started, his words tightrope walkers navigating the dangerous height of their implications. "You shouldn't be alone over the holidays, y/n."

The concern in his voice was genuine, but it unfurled into the room like smoke, clouding the boundaries they had painstakingly erected. Y/n could only nod, the familiar guilt twining anew with the persistent want that had no rightful place amongst the ethics of their association.

Jeonghan didn't move to leave, nor did y/n close the door, their mutual hesitation a dance they both led. It was Jeonghan who broke first, his hand reaching out to touch y/n's, a contact that exceeded caution and sparked the return of all the emotions they had tried to suppress.

"Perhaps I should go," he whispered, though neither moved.

"Perhaps," y/n mirrored, the admission laden with the things that couldn't be said.

In the end, Jeonghan did leave, but the ghost of his touch lingered, a testament to the crumbling facade that was no longer resilient in the absence of prying eyes.

Classes resumed and the new semester began with a fresh snowfall, a reflective canvas upon which their continued charade could be etched. Y/n tackled studies with a renewed fervor, if only as an attempt to barricade thoughts of Jeonghan behind walls of formulae and hypotheses.

Their office encounters were strictly scheduled, terse discussions of academic progress marked by the rigid adherence to professionalism. The warmth that had once highlighted their interactions now lost to a cold formality, necessary for their survival within the confines of the institution.

A chance meeting in the library offered an illusion of normalcy. Y/n was buried in research when Jeonghan approached, a slight tilt to his lips that didn't quite qualify as a smile.

"I see you're still spending your evenings with quantum theories," he commented, a careful neutrality underpinning his tone.

"It's captivating," y/n returned, equally guarded. "There's so much yet to be understood."

"Indeed," Jeonghan murmured, his eyes holding y/n's for a moment too revealing. "Keep up the good work, y/n."

The exchange was routine to any onlooker, but laden with the silent acknowledgment of the growing space between them—a void filled with unsaid words and unacknowledged yearning.

Yet as the semester marched on, the ice around them began to grow thinner. Smiles became more frequent, shared laughter erupted over shared in-jokes about scientific anomalies, and cautious optimism breathed life into their covert looks. The escalating risk of their connection weighed heavily upon them, a dangerous game played on the edge of discovery.

Y/n's research led to a conference, a gathering of minds where y/n's work, under Jeonghan's guidance, would be presented. The excitement was tinged with trepidation—not over the showcase of the project, but the proximity to Jeonghan it would entail.

They traveled separately, a necessary precaution, meeting only at the conference hall amongst a sea of attendees. Y/n's presentation was met with accolades, a shining moment that Yena, who had rejoined campus life with gusto, witnessed firsthand. She beamed with pride, a supportive anchor not just for y/n, but unexpectedly, for her father as well.

The final evening of the conference saw attendees at a formal dinner. Y/n sat at a table with Yena and other students, Jeonghan at the head table, both keenly aware of each other's presence.

As the evening drew on, y/n stepped out onto a balcony for air, the stars overhead a vast, undisturbed witness. The door behind creaked open, and without needing to look, y/n knew it was Jeonghan who stepped out to join.

They stood side by side in silence, looking out into the darkness. Then, in a voice barely audible over the whispering wind, Jeonghan spoke—the words cutting through the months of unspoken truths and restrained feelings.

"I can't do this anymore," he confessed, his profile outlined by the ambient light. "Pretending that I don't—"

He stopped, the silence swallowing the rest, the implications hanging suspended in the air around them. Y/n turned to face him, the turbulence of emotions clear in y/n's gaze.

"I know," y/n replied, the admission a relief as it tore through the last barrier of denial.

They didn't touch, didn't step closer, but in that moment, the thaw occurred, and the unyielding frost that had encased their desires began to melt. It wasn't a resolution, nor an answer to the labyrinth of moral and professional repercussions, but an acknowledgment of the powerful, undeniable reality of their connection.

The return to campus was fraught with a new tension, an awareness that the thread they had been tugging on was near its breaking point—a point of decision that loomed inevitable on the horizon of their intertwined journey.

As spring arrived, the university campus bloomed with vibrant life, a stark contrast to the inner turmoil that churned within y/n. Jeonghan's confession at the conference had not been forgotten, it's echo a constant undercurrent to every lecture attended, every paper graded, every sidelong glance they shared. The thread that connected them—an intangible, delicate thing—stretched taut with the pressure of unfulfilled desires and unspoken words.

Every brush of their fingers as y/n handed in assignments, every shared look laden with meaning, sent vibrations along that ever-tensing thread. It was souring the purity of their academic relationship, tinting what should have been a professional mentorship with hues of something far deeper and more perilous.

Yena, as cheerful and oblivious as ever, spoke excitedly of future plans: graduation on the horizon, job prospects, and the pride she felt for her father and her best friend, y/n. She remained the picture of ignorance to the drama unfolding so close to her, unaware of how perilously close y/n and her father were to crossing a line that could not be uncrossed.

It was a late night in the laboratory, y/n absorbed in research, when the thread finally snapped. Jeonghan entered unexpectedly, the click of the door a jarring sound in the quiet. Their eyes met in an immediate and profound recognition of the end of all their self-imposed restraints.

"I can't do this," Jeonghan spoke first, his voice strained with the weight of months of confinement and hidden truth. "I can’t keep pretending that I don't feel anything for you. It’s affecting everything I do."

Y/n's research papers fluttered to the floor as if mirroring the collapsing pretenses between them. "I don't want to pretend either," y/n confessed, the heart's unguarded honesty breaking free at last.

Stepping closer, they abandoned caution as Jeonghan reached out to gently cradle y/n's face. The chemistry they had dissected abstractly now manifested physically, irrefutable and demanding to be acknowledged.

Their kiss, unlike the first, was not a question but an answer—vehement, deep, and brimming with the months of tension that had built up between them. It spoke of longing, of the undeniable attraction they’d battled against, and the collective resignation to the torrent of emotions they could no longer contain.

It was the beginning of something neither could fully understand nor control, a tale of two souls intertwined in a dance as old as time. But entwined with their newfound freedom was the weight of the myriad of complications they were set to face.

Reality crashed over them like a cascading wave as soon as they parted—the comprehension of their actions rippling through each with chilling sobriety. Together, they'd breached the sanctity of the student-teacher bond, ventured into the realm of the heart where logic had no domain.

"There will be consequences," Jeonghan said after a moment, the professor in him re-gaining the upper hand despite the lingering sensation of y/n’s lips. "We have too much to lose."

"And what if I think it's worth it?" y/n challenged, despair and hopelessness colliding with the flickering embers of what had just ignited between them.

Jeonghan's expression softened, his hand still resting on y/n's cheek. "Then I fear for what may come. For us, for Yena... everything could come crashing down."

They stood amongst the scattered papers, a symbol of the order they had thrown to the wind. The impact of their decision began to take shape—rumors, disciplinary actions, and the shattering of a young woman's familial image were all at stake.

Y/n withdrew from Jeonghan's touch, the weight of guilt enveloping the brief warmth. "We need to think this through. We can't... not without considering all the angles."

The acknowledgment of their reality, harsh and unyielding, settled between them as they parted that night—their relationship irrevocably altered, the path ahead fraught with uncertainty.

In the days that followed, the silhouette of normality was a guise they both donned with reluctance. Jeonghan returned to his authoritative role with an impenetrable facade, y/n to the studious demeanor that had been a constant before everything changed.

Yet the transparency of their previous interactions was forever clouded; every word, every assessment was now a labyrinthine exercise in extreme caution, each hyper-aware of any sign that might reveal their secret.

Yena, ever the doting daughter, and the loyal friend, began to notice a shift—not in her father, nor in y/n, but in the air that seemed to crackle with an energy around them. Her intuition nagged at her, whispering of changes she could not place nor fathom.

"What's going on with you and dad?" she asked y/n one evening, her gaze searching for some elusive truth.

"It's just the pressure of the semester," y/n deflected, the lie a bitter taste on the tongue. "We're both feeling it."

In her heart, y/n knew the time was slipping away, that the truth was a beast that would not stay caged indefinitely. This secret shared was a burden too heavy, a truth too poignant to remain hidden.

As y/n watched the last vestiges of daylight wane from the sky, there was an understanding that the story they had begun was far from over. The pages yet to be written loomed large and unpredictable, but it was clear that the journey they faced was one neither Jeonghan nor y/n could travel alone.

As the semester waned, the tension between Jeonghan and y/n had become almost palpable, a volatile cocktail of fear and longing that hovered over their every interaction. They moved through the motions of their respective roles with a deliberate caution that belied the undercurrent of suppressed emotions churning beneath the surface.

In the quiet confines of the library, y/n poured over textbooks, the lines and equations blurring as the thoughts circled back relentlessly to Jeonghan and the looming inevitability of their secret being exposed. It was a mental tightrope walk that left little room for error, the risk of condemnation and ruin growing with each stolen moment.

Meanwhile, Jeonghan, ensconced in his office and the rigorous demands of his CEO duties, found himself waging a constant battle between duty and the whispers of his heart. The sight of y/n's handwriting on a submitted paper could elicit a storm within him that took monumental effort to quell.

The rumors that were once mere shadows in the corridors of the university began to take shape, whispers that grew bolder with each passing day. Though no clear evidence presented itself, the growing sense of unease was undeniable. Their relationship, though rigorously guarded, emitted a frequency that seemed to invite scrutiny from those with a watchful eye.

Yena’s intuition pushed her to observe more closely, the daughter’s connection to her father serving as a conduit for her suspicions. Jeonghan's name, when coupled with y/n's in conversation, elicited a reaction she couldn't ignore—a sudden tightness around the eyes, a fractional delay in response. These were puzzle pieces she couldn't quite fit together, but her determination to understand the picture they formed intensified.

Y/n knew something had to give. The reality of the situation was a crossroads approaching at breakneck speed, an intersection that promised collision.

Y/n sat in the small cafe off campus that had become a refuge, the murmur of outside life a welcome intrusion to the cocoon of silence. As assignments were graded and lecture notes revised, the bell above the door chimed, signaling a new patron's arrival. With a hesitant glance upward, y/n's heart staggered as Yena breezed in, her eyes scanning the room until they locked onto y/n.

They greeted each other, but the usual ease was strained, a visible tension threading its way through the exchange. As Yena sat down, her convivial facade slowly crumbled, revealing a resolve that was as surprising as it was concerning.

"We need to talk," Yena stated, the gravity in her voice anchoring the moment in seriousness. "About you and my dad."

A cold dread settled over y/n, the words echoing like a death knell to the carefully constructed denial that had been clung to for far too long.

"There's nothing to talk about, Yena," y/n managed, though the conviction fell flat, a kite without wind.

But Yena persisted, her gaze unyielding. "I know there's something you're not telling me. And it's killing me not knowing."

Words failed y/n then, the truth a barricade too high and thick to cross. Yet the look in Yena's eyes pulled at something deep within, a plea for honesty that was as raw as it was heartrending.

In the wake of Yena's confrontation, the dominoes of their secret began to totter, threatening to tumble into chaos. Heavy-hearted and knowing that the time had come, y/n sought Jeonghan out, the need to discuss the next step a fire that refused to be doused.

Jeonghan's office stood as a symbol of their forbidden connection, the site of their passion, of furtive kisses and the echoing silence of unspoken vows. As y/n stepped in, it felt like crossing into another realm, a place where the walls whispered their memories back to them.

"We need to decide what we're doing," y/n began, the urgency of the situation straining the voice.

Jeonghan looked up, his features etched with lines of a silent struggle. "The risk is becoming too great," he admitted, a resignation sweeping through his words.

The conversation that ensued was as difficult as it was necessary, a navigation through the murky waters of ethics, emotions, and consequences. The affection that had blossomed was undeniable, the connection strong, but it was tethered to a reality they could no longer ignore.

They deliberated on coming clean, on facing the storm together, but the image of Yena—happy, bright, and unaware—loomed between them like a specter of potential disaster.

Days later, as spring flowers burgeoned outside, an air of somber finality settled within the hallowed halls of the university. Y/n and Jeonghan made the decision to step into the light, to confront the potential consequences head-on, rather than continue in the shadows.

They met with the university board, an assembly of faces stern and inquisitive, disclosing the truth of their relationship in stark terms. The ripple of shock and murmuring that followed their confession painted a clear image of the repercussions to come.

As the process of institutional inquiry commenced, Yena was told, the news delivered in gentle but unwavering honesty. Her world, once so stable and sure, fractured under the weight of the revelation. Heartache and betrayal warred within her as she grappled to reconcile the father and friend she knew with the personas they had just shattered.

The inquiry was a tempestuous ordeal—an external evaluation driving nails into the framework of their careers and personal lives. Jeonghan faced the repercussions within the academic sphere, his role as a professor brought into question, while his standing as CEO wavered under the industry's scrutinizing gaze.

Y/n endured the piercing looks and hushed whispers of fellow students, the isolation a stark contrast to the prior camaraderie. Yet, the heaviest burden bore down in the form of Yena's hurt—a chasm that yawned wide and uncertain in the landscape of their friendship.

Amidst the fallout, Jeonghan and y/n found solace in their shared resolve. The decision to bring their relationship to light, though devastating in its wake, was a testament to the sincerity of their feelings—a declaration that, despite the cost, bore a haunting beauty amidst the ruins.

The proceedings concluded with Jeonghan stepping down from his university position, a move that quelled part of the raging storm. His influence at Yoon Technologies remained strong, salvaged by years of dedication and success that spoke louder than the whispers of scandal.

Y/n faced the disciplinary actions of the board, sanctions that would forever mark an academic record but could not extinguish the passion for the science that had brought them together in the first place.

In the aftermath, Yena's relationship with y/n and her father saw a tenuous beginning towards healing. It was a process fraught with pain and introspection, where forgiveness had to be measured against the sense of betrayal that lingered like a stubborn shadow.

The future remained an abstract notion, one that promised difficulty but was not devoid of hope. Within the quiet corners of their reality, Jeonghan and y/n nurtured the bond they had fought to preserve, a connection that spoke of resilience and quiet strength.

They emerged from the tempest changed—not unscathed, but perhaps wiser and certainly more aware of the preciousness of the love they carried with them into the unclear path ahead, a silent promise of resolution held tight in their joined hands.

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