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usedpidemo · 7 months

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More than you know (Nmixx Haewon)

“Miss Haewon, please see me after class hours later. I would like to talk to you.”

There it is. A rather predictable bookend to another dull lecture. She saw it coming from the moment she walked into the classroom.

She absolutely loathes hearing it.

Despite the comically indignant scowl she shoots you on the way out—and the mocking jeers from her friends that elicit embarrassment—by the time the final bell rings, she couldn’t wait to see you later on.

You’re excited, too—but for all the wrong reasons.

She’s the only thing keeping your passion for teaching alive.

—————

For the record, Haewon is not a bad student, not in the slightest. If anything, she’s par for the course. She’s not gonna be some summa cum laude, but she isn’t a sorry case, either. And that’s been the pattern with your students for years. They only care enough just to get by. Haewon is the most clear-cut example you can refer to.

Based on the rather intriguing stares she shoots at you, you’d be tricked into believing she’s actually interested enough in improving her future performance in class. Peeking through the laptop, catching glimpses of everyone’s grades. Her name is highlighted on the document, and the scores consist primarily of mid-eighties with some low-nineties. Clearly she’s nowhere close to a flunk or a future dropout.

Better than the high seventies and low eighties that the rest of your class averages.

“Sir, how many times do we need to go over this. I’m doing well for myself,” she remarks, giving you a look that says I told you so. The evidence is right in front of you, written in bold. “C’mon sir. Just let me go early today.”

And that’s when you make your first of many mistakes—feeding her the attention she craves. Where’s this energy when it comes to your lectures, you wonder?

Before you even entertain the thought, the scene has already gone completely sideways. Here’s a student with zero regard for following rules, and you’ve experienced your fair share of troublemakers. She’s sitting on the desk, pale skin in plain view from the off shoulder cropped sweatshirt that barely qualifies for the dress code. You’re looking—and she’s keenly noticing.

“Maybe another time, sir?” Haewon reads your mind like an open book. She’s purposely dressing improperly for two reasons: to piss off the higher-ups who hate her guts, and to make it easier for you to rip through her clothes. “I’ve got dance practice with the theater girls and I’m running late.”

“Well for one, you can drop the honorifics,” you reply, plainly, in a particularly weak effort to change the conversation. The attention you give her is short-lived; your focus returns to the unanswered emails and grades you need to fill. “Class hours are done for the day.”

It’s evidently not the response she wanted, because her arms are crossed and she’s pouting. You have to admit, she looks cute acting like that, revealing clothes be damned.

“Sir.” Haewon drawls out into a groan, bothered by the monotony of waiting when she has places to be. She won’t go as far as to knock your laptop down, but she’s considering it as a last resort. “You’re being a bitch right now.”

Anyone else in her position would get it—a verbal lashing that would get your teaching license rescinded and take you to court, but Haewon is the epitome of getting away with murder. You have no idea how she does it—how she manages to escape mostly unscathed from punishment. Even now while you drum on the keyboard, because you’re allowing her to call you a bitch without consequence.

Maybe because you like her more than you would openly admit.

She sighs. It’s a defeatist tone. A few moments later, you close your laptop and she perks up.

“Take a seat. I do want to talk to you about something important,” you tell her, knowing one hundred percent certain she’s not getting off your desk.

Haewon can’t help herself to a snarky comment. “Damn. Finally.”

By every conceivable account, this should be awkward, if not outright wrong. She’s still an undergrad, you tell yourself, staring into her sharp, alluring eyes. For as rebellious and as unruly as Haewon acts, she still listens to you. Hell, you’re the only professor she bothers to attend classes regularly for. She’d tell you she cares in her own twisted way. Look at how she dresses, for one. Your thoughts consist of mainly her in some cumbersome position, her lips letting out these desperate, heavy gasps. Your hands squeezing her taut breasts; the way her shirt accentuates the curves of her chest drives your imagination wild. You can spend all day planning how you intend to fuck her—

“Sir, you’re staring again.” A snap back to the present, where she’s grinning and leaning close to your face. So pretty. “I get it—I’m hot, but we’re on borrowed time, sir.”

“Right. I honestly forgot what I was gonna tell you,” you mindlessly drawl, searching through your desk for something. Something to temporarily distract you from the inevitability of the end. The rest of your paperwork lies unattended in the faculty room, you remember, but you’re not gonna step foot inside that place—not when the other professors are still around. Time is money. “But it’s definitely not your grades, that’s for certain.”

“What’s it about, then?” Her eyes continue to follow your every move.

You place a folded sheet of paper between you. She grabs it and reads through the brief content. The response is concerning.

“You’re leaving?” Haewon turns to you, stunned and gobsmacked. A rare expression coming from someone who’s usually indifferent toward everything and everyone.

Genuinely, you have no idea how to explain yourself. You had this all planned out since the beginning of the year; these two semesters will be your last, you were completely certain. You could have told anyone in the faculty. They’re decent people—as decent as they can be during the few times you actually interact with them—but they were merely coworkers and nothing more. You could have told your wife, who just so happens to be a fellow professor and colleague, but she’s one of the reasons why you’re leaving in the first place.

Word spreads like wildfire around campus, so you know to be careful, but this is straight recklessness. You call it mutual trust.

“Been thinking about it for a while,” you say, rather quietly, trying your hardest not to look her way.

“Let me guess,” she says, breaking the pretense of sympathy and concern for her usual caustic tone. “No one cares about your shitty class?”

You’re not remotely bothered by her comment, even if she’s speaking the truth. Though she could have used a nicer word besides shitty. “Part of it, yeah.”

“I seriously don’t understand why there’s gotta be a religious unit for a business degree,” she adds, fascinated by her own question. Even more so than listening to your lectures. “I don’t get it.”

“I don’t get it either.” Truthfully, you seriously question why you’re even teaching here to begin with.

You’re employed by one of the top universities in the country; every parent would sacrifice everything just for their children to study here. It pays well by teaching standards, but the bar is in hell. Despite the prestige, the overall experience is no different than your time in public high school. Most of the students who do attend come from rich backgrounds; people who use the place as a dick measuring contest to see who is the richer person. These entitled scholars who are always on their phone—one of their many phones—and cheat to get ahead.

It happens so often on the regular that you eventually stopped caring.

“Hmm,” Haewon thinks to herself, running through every piece of information she has to weaponize against you. She knows you better than anyone, mainly because you share personal life details like they’re the daily newspaper. Not to mention the very reason she comes to the classroom in the afternoons: you.

Then she comes to a rather off the wall conclusion. “It’s Miss Myoui, isn’t it?”

You squint your eyes. Haewon glints up. A small opening.

After a brief pause, she piles on, smirking. “Did I touch a nerve? Poor you,” she says, shooting you a mocking pout that you mostly ignore. “I guess you haven’t had some good pussy in a while. I mean, there’s no reason for me to be here other than the fact that Miss Myoui isn’t letting you clap her ass. Maybe the rumors are true then—”

Before she continues to spill more information that anyone shouldn’t be allowed to know, you fire back with a sharp glare. She cheekily grins. By ignoring the flashing red light right in front of you, you’re purposefully walking towards your own downfall. It’s a trap; you know this. You know Haewon more than any other student. All her little tricks, all her crafty schemes.

God, you can already see how this is gonna end.

“So I’m right?” Haewon tilts her head, leaning slightly forward. Her smug expression, word choice, and mocking tone tests your patience—including your blood levels—and you’re failing by the minute. “Trouble at home?”

Your response? Nothing. Going word for word with her ultimately results in a losing effort; previous conversations with her leave you more tongue tied and in a rut by the end. Haewon is so natural at getting under people’s skin. It’s what she gets off on—wrapping professors and superiors around her finger with her mouth. And more often than not, she’s charismatic and charming enough that it’s entertaining, but no one wants to openly admit it except you.

It’s how she’s able to read you like an open book. Let personal information slip so seamlessly. The numerous discussions regarding her underperformance in class lead into intimate sessions where you and Haewon become more acquainted with each other. A little too comfortable at times, but you can see where and why she acts the way she does. And you had come to the conclusion that you can’t fix her. Many have tried—and failed. She does whatever she wants, and she’ll end up getting away with it.

You slide your laptop aside, ready to dance with the devil, going against everything you swore against. “Mmm—not quite, but you’re halfway there.”

Haewon smiles and her eyes flutter. Not in a patronizing, condescending way, but the sweet kind. Genuine. The soft side she’ll only let you see. “Miss Myoui not letting you clap, sir?”

“She does,” you say, dour. And I already told you class hours are done. Please don’t call me sir.”

“Right. Sir.” Haewon’s playful tone trails off with that loathsome word. She can’t help but smirk; it’s second nature to her. She’ll claim that you fell for that bait, but that was deliberate, you’ll say—even if she refuses to believe you.

After a brief impasse, “So—sir,” she follows, using her eyebrows and cadence to tease, her hands on the edge of her pants, teasing some underwear, “You need to fuck me again? Now? Is Miss Myoui not letting you have some lately?”

Turning your gaze away and to the desk, “About Mina,” you reply, drumming your fingers on the table, deep in thought, “I’m planning to divorce her soon.”

“Huh?” Her eyes shoot wide, her expression rather surprised at the sudden revelation. You’d think by how she teases you about your wife, she’d have a much more subdued reaction. Considering she knows facets of your rather strange relationship with Mina. “Well, I would tell you’d be fumbling big time, but you should know—”

“She’s cheating on me. I know.”

Now she’s genuinely shocked, completely caught unaware. She’d assume you to be particularly naive and clueless about campus rumblings, especially since she’d never see you outside of the classroom and in the faculty room. “Well damn. I honestly thought you didn’t know.”

“Can’t say it would be the first time I’ve heard about it,” you say, turning to face her again, cold and gloomy. Pointing your finger at her, “And before you say anything, no, I didn’t catch her getting eaten out in the faculty room.”

You say that with the utmost sincerity—and sarcasm.

Haewon hesitates, before answering, rather “I figured.” She understands that your poor eyes have seen some things you shouldn’t be seeing.

Truthfully, you’re amazed she hasn’t brought up the subject a lot earlier. Since the end of the previous academic year, you’ve noticed Mina’s sudden changes in behavior. She’s sending more text messages telling you she’ll arrive home later than usual, the frequent faculty outings she chooses to attend, the cancellation of plans scheduled months in advance—the biggest of which, a dinner date at a particularly expensive five-star restaurant on the other side of town that has a notorious 18 month waitlist that you miraculously booked for your anniversary. And that was five months ago.

People change, but Mina is an entirely different person to you now. You can hardly recognize her.

“I guess I should say I’m sorry for what happened,” Haewon says, pretty modest and empathetic in tone, but even during serious moments, she can’t help but remark, “But you were kind of loser material for a woman like her.”

You can only stare back, annoyed. She chuckles, heartily. Seeing your animated, cartoonish expressions only serves to amuse her even further and fuel her addiction of teasing you.

“Ah, I fucking love you, sir. You’re my favorite professor for this reason.” In an instant, the somber facade falls apart and she’s back to being her usual coy self.

“Among other things?” you question.

“Such as?” Haewon looks confused. It’s a bluff; you’re calling it now. “Such as what, sir?”

Placing a hand on her knee, you’re creating friction so intense that her mouth goes agape and her breaths grow heavier. “Such as the fact that no one eats you out better than I do,” you reply, inflection transitioning from formal to low.

“Oh?” She doesn’t believe what’s happening to you. “Sir,” her cadence dances in such a melodic and sultry way it’s gonna ruin you faster than anything she’s done so far. “You have no evidence to prove—”

Suddenly, Haewon goes tongue tied, unable to finish her sentence. That’s a first. And you didn’t need to lift a finger or use your voice. Your other hand finds solace around her toned waist, exploring her tummy, and it’s thankfully not restricted by any layer of clothing. So much pristine skin to claim as yours, you begin to lose your restraint—and there isn’t much left to begin with.

“I can take you to the faculty room and show you,” you mumble against her belly, the cold breath tickling her flesh that she trembles. Haewon’s senses float off, her vision growing dark as her hands impulsively latch onto your shoulders. In return, you peck her navel, her abs, until you reach her abdomen, a hair’s breadth away from her chest. Between kisses, you continue to feed into her want, “Or I can give you an example right now.”

“Please,” Haewon finds enough clarity to cup your face up and meet her in a lengthy passionate liplock. This is what she wanted from the start. “Indulge me, sir.”

The only thing keeping you two apart is the laptop dangling on the opposite side of the table, almost pushed aside while you were making out. You quickly place it on a random desk before closing the two classroom door curtains.

When you return to Haewon, she’s sitting atop your desk, playfully swinging her legs, smiling modestly. It’s only now that you recognize how pretty she looks. But behind that meek appearance is a demon, a temptress that only sees you as a conduit for pleasure. In her eyes, the only purpose you have to give is sex, and nothing more.

So push your chair forward when you sit down. Haewon’s legs are already spread wide, but the pants remain on them. She doesn’t like to do it herself.

“Won’t give me a cheating discount?” you say, looking up at her coy grin, placing your hands around the hem of her trousers.

“Technically—” she trails off, kissing you, “You’re cheating on her with me, sir.” Followed by another. Each one deeper, more intimate than the last. “Don’t act all innocent now, especially when we’ve been doing this for months.”

Then, Haewon consumes you—as in, devours you. Grabs you and makes out with you with a passion you wish she’d present during class hours. You’d be content to remain in this position for the rest of the day, even if the clothes never come off; he’s so passionate and fervent that it’s intoxicating. But it’s all planned. Elaborate. You’re familiar with her more than you ever want to be: how she loves to unbutton your shirt while kissing you, how she mumbles and hums softly against your mouth, how she whispers desires that end up becoming realized after the foreplay. In reality, she’s the one dictating the pace, the one calling all the shots, and you’re merely an instrument she uses to indulge herself.

And she wants it: everywhere, in every position—something you find too much to handle, and she’s already quite the handful. But it’s merely a delay of the inevitable; you’re going to fuck Haewon, you’re gonna pour all your cum inside her, and you can figure out the rest the morning after.

More often than not, your shirt ends up unbuttoned, but not completely undone. One of two layers keeping your impulsive desires in check. As you work Haewon’s pants down her legs, most of your lesser instincts are shown in full display. It takes almost tearing your own fingers off your very hands not to rip through her panties. Meanwhile, she’s lounging on the desk, enjoying the sight of you reverting back to something primal.

The way you fondle her creamy thighs, never finding their beginning and end, is like beholding a sculpture crafted by the gods. They’re meant to be worshiped, to be handled reverently.

And Haewon guides you through the process, commanding you like she has authority over you. Titles do not matter—they never have. “Keep going,” she says, as you leave delicate kiss marks down her thighs, slowly burying yourself into the inviting presence of her pussy. Peeking through the near-nonexistent layer of fabric, she shifts the lift of her legs, perching on your shoulders as she forces you into her suffocating warmth.

“Show me,” she gasps, brushing your hair with her hand, and that’s what sets the rest into motion.

Her legs clutch you into a breathless hold. God, she’s killing you slowly, and you don’t mind it one bit. At this point, you have nothing to lose. You might as well treat this as your last supper, your final meal before you have to say goodbye. She can strangle you with her thighs while you drag your tongue up and down her folds, suck on her clit, take in all her nectar—it doesn’t change the fact that Haewon is gonna fucking end you.

You might as well repay the favor.

And despite throwing caution to the wind, Haewon appears unprepared. Dazed and confused by the overwhelming sensation burning through her nerves, she trembles—and moans. She couldn’t be any less subtle if she tried; hearing her hit notes you never thought she’s capable of hitting only serves to be a minor distraction from her pulsating heat. You’re relentless, slowly picking away at her senses, at her sensitive cunt, knowing that no one can eat her out as well as you do.

“S-sir.” Haewon can only muster up a single word before her mouth fills the room with nothing but air.

Deep down, you despise the rather obstructive yet comfortable position you’re in. Your tongue brushes against Haewon’s folds, going back and forth to taste of her warmth and her clit. The rest of her frame lays atop the desk, trembling, unable to keep herself steady under your grip. She’s lost you somewhere in between, clinging onto the edges of the table for support. You can only imagine her jaw agape, her expressions twisting in pleasure, wriggling and tossing her head around as she aimlessly tries to find some semblance of control.

Her mouth is the only tool she can use to make some sense of this overwhelming bliss. And even that doesn’t amount to much. ‘Shit,’ ‘so good,’ ‘don’t stop—’ these are only some of the things she groans out as you trap her in a whirlpool of her own ecstasy. It’s still not enough. You want to prove her wrong; you want to remind her what’s important, and the only way you can make sure she truly understands if she fucking cums all over your face.

So while Haewon writhes and makes a damn mess of your desk, you continue to feast on her pretty cunt. She’s making sure every person in the building knows how good your tongue is, and it’s in character with how unabashedly shameless she behaves in front of everyone. Her legs kick sharply against your chair, so you end up where you were supposed to be from the beginning—on your knees. And yet it doesn’t deter you; if anything, you grow more attached to her pussy, savoring every taste and drop, taking piece of every little part of her as yours.

You can’t wait to explore the rest of her body and claim it as yours. On the off chance you’re able to rip her shirt off, your hands roam her tight, lithe figure. You’re met by layers of fabric, frustrated at the inability to grab her breasts in their natural form. She grabs you by the wrists; it’s a miracle she’s able to feel you through the waves crushing her to the desk. You suck on her clit hard. She lets out this guttural moan that sounds violent in nature, like you’re hurting her, when you’re actually doing the exact opposite.

And it’s how you play off each other for the most part. Your need to get Haewon naked is only matched by her desperation to cum. She doesn’t need to tell you directly how much she wants to. Her hands guide you beneath her shirt, and you press on the underside of her boobs in appreciation. You’re playing a dangerous game; you have no intention of letting go.

Surprisingly, Haewon holds up well. One look and it might appear that she’s a complete wreck: how her body trembles unceasingly, how she has half her shirt lifted to give you a better view of her chest for when you eventually come up for air, how helpless she is at even the slightest touch. You made her like this. It’s a habit she’s used to by now; she’s learned that a figure like hers is meant to be admired, to be used.

Before you grow comfortable with the habit, the idea that you can eat her out on the desk for hours, Haewon cums.

She keens and shudders through her surprise orgasm. It’s aligned with her playful nature to cum without your knowing, even though the signs were there all along. Your tongue works through the torrent of fluid, then the wave of slick that you drink up. Lap whatever your satiated bud allows. You can see remnants of her climax spill down the desk and to the floor, to her pants.

Even now, you’re still learning something new about your students. For one, you never knew Haewon squirts.

The wet desk would make for a perfect reference picture for when she questions your legitimacy again—but you have better ways of explaining yourself.

You give Haewon no reprieve; she mewls and whimpers as you lick her folds clean, till you settle into soft, gentle kisses. The situation is all sorts of fucked; she has places to be and friends to meet, but you have her on top of your desk, keening after eating her out and making her cum without a care. It’s gonna take an essay's worth of explaining the glaringly wet patches on her clothes and deep red marks over her skin.

Truthfully, she’d rather be with you than with her overbearing friends—but you won’t hear it directly from her lips.

Speaking of, you hear a phone ring. Haewon cranes her neck in the direction of her bag. “Sir, I need my phone.” She huffs, gasping for air, each word spaced out between deep breaths.

Regretfully, it takes every bit of your resolve to release your tongue from her warm cunt. You rummage through her bag and hand the phone over to her. It’s about picking up the pieces now, salvaging whatever you can make of the mess you made, albeit there’s hardly anything to save, even yourself.

“Don’t.” Haewon uses her loose toes to point at you, shifting herself into a sitting position on the desk. You’re halfway done with the first button on your shirt when she stops you. She’s tapping through her phone, texting some bullshit excuse to her friends. Knowing her, they’re most likely no better than her; they might be playing into your little secret, too. All it takes is one person, one word of mouth, before information spreads around like wildfire.

Like everything else about her, you had mostly left it up to interpretation. Forcing details out of Haewon is a near-impossible task. You were never really a good negotiator. The deal usually ends up like this: her panties for a bonus in her grades, her lips for a signed excuse letter, and if she was really in the mood, her pussy for a cheat sheet. Sometimes,

She sets her phone aside on the desk, hopping off the table to lay her hands on your exposed chest. Momentarily kissing you, she whispers, “Sir, I told them I would be a little late today. You should know better by now.”

Her fingers wring around the collar of your button up shirt, eyes ablaze with reinvigorated lust, lips curled in a pleasant smile. You’re so enamored with her, it drives you crazy. Even when she pushes you onto your chair, even when she rips the already undone shirt off your body, all you can do is pay attention to the stars in her eyes. Her warm, wanton gaze—both charming and alluring in all the right ways. She knows how to use every part of herself to near perfection.

The rest of your clothes couldn’t come off any faster. Your pants and boxers pool around your ankles, followed shortly by a dark cropped sweatshirt. You’re not given any time to savor the perfection that is Haewon’s naked figure; she’s straddled on your lap, stroking your hard cock with a delicate grip. She smirks, and she has every right to look smug. You’re left breathless, under pressure; if only you can see yourself in the mirror and see how needy you look, and the utter control Haewon has over you.

And you allow her; this is her specialty, this is what she’s built for—to fucking end you.

If your words allow you, you’d command her to get on her knees, suck your cock and take a warm load all over her face; this is the ideal position to make the move. But you can’t. Not when you’re missing the point.

Haewon is on the edge of your lap, running her hand around your cock, gathering spurts of precum on her nails and finger pads. She’s still winded from before, slow in her movements. The naughty look she gives your body never grows old.

“I hope you don’t mind if I ask you a question,” she starts, looking down at the little mess she’s making on your thigh. You’re too overwhelmed to breathe, let alone say a word.

“Be honest with me. I’m being serious for once.”

And she sounds like she means it. You gulp your throat as you enter the unknown.

Her eyes flicker up to meet yours, her expression deep in thought, something she’s not usually seen doing. And you feel the heat gradually building on your lap, but you’re paralyzed by anxiety for the sensation to register. She runs the other hand through hair to take a good luck at you: your rather sweaty face, somewhere between pleasure and tense.

“Tell me,” she sighs, running a hand down your shoulder to your elbow, before continuing, “Am I the best student you’ve ever fucked?”

“Yes.” The word comes out involuntarily, as if it were muscle memory. Like your body knows, and it knows itself better than anyone or anything else.

It draws a piqued reaction from Haewon. She raises an eyebrow, unconvinced. “And what about Yoona?”

“And what about her?”

A reply you end up regretting almost immediately. Haewon doesn’t take bullshit for an answer, as evident by the cold, dour stare on her face. If there’s anyone who knows the ins and outs of university, it’s her.

It doesn’t take long for you to cave in. “She’s so tight,” you admit, sounding like a guilty criminal being interrogated. “But you’re still the best, I swear.”

“And what about Yuna? That exchange student Lily? Miss Minatozaki? You say that to just about anyone.”

In an instant, she goes from curious and passionate to downright frightening. It’s not supposed to be like this; normally it’s you who has the authority. Haewon can go on and on for hours if she wanted to. She has all the leverage, all the evidence, all the power to cause the end of everything, your life included. But she only wants one thing: the truth.

“They’re nothing compared to you. Promise. You’re still my favorite student.”

To a certain extent, you’re right; Haewon is your favorite, but for all for the wrong reasons. It has nothing to do with teaching her anything other than being a good toy, because deep down, she’s about as irredeemable as your peers make her out to be. Really, it’s about using her body, fucking her, pushing her to the absolute limits—anything to get your mind out of the numbing, monotonous work of being an actual professor. There are many good girls in class, including the names she mentions in passing, but this is a stark reminder that Haewon is yours, and you belong to Haewon.

“Then show me.”

And to drive the point even further, she sinks down on your lap, pressing her weight on your crotch—until her pussy meets your cock and you both disappear into the sea of pleasure again.

Haewon throws her head back, and she’s never looked more vulnerable, not even when you had her laid out on the desk. All this flesh and body to claim, and you have no clue where to begin. But that’s the least of your problems when she begins to glide up and down, rocking your lap with slow, agonizing thrusts. You end up blanking out and caring about the friction in your hips instead.

The slip of your cock in and out of her pussy when she rides you. Your palms press against her waist while you watch her slowly come undone: the moans, curses, and every sound in between, the rapidly twisting expressions, the hypnotic jiggle of her chest. Soon, you find a steady rhythm to match, and everything becomes effortless. Both of you pushing and pulling against each other’s bodies in an effort to get deeper. You forget you’re a professor and her a student, only two souls in need of sex during some trying times in your lives.

In a way, you’re both meant to be. Fate is a strange entity.

Then Haewon regains some clarity, enough to be kissing you, moaning directly in your ear, demanding your gaze. Even when her hole swallows your cock, she still wants your attention. And even while you have it so deep in her cunt that she’s mewling, struggling for oxygen, she manages to form a coherent sentence.

“Tell me I’m the tightest. Tell me I have the best pussy you ever fucked.”

God, she’s so fucking tight you can’t fully comprehend it. Perhaps even more, and you’re used to using her. Maybe it’s all that pent-up frustration toward your dead end job, toward Mina, that makes her clench tighter. That’s now how pussy works; you’re just stretching her out really hard, but you have nothing sensible to conclude with. What you can tell, however, is that you needed this—and you needed it badly.

You’re thankful you closed off the doors and curtains to the classroom, because the last thing anyone needs to see and hear is the sight of Haewon riding you while you both moan about how good the other feels.

“Love this pussy,” you murmur, breathing against her collarbone, wanting a taste of her taut nipple. She has you in a tight bearhug that binds your hands around her waist. “Fuck—so—fucking—tight—the best—”

And that’s all she needed to hear. Every word—every sound—slips from her lips like it hurts, but she’s in total bliss. She moves her hips against the roll of your cock with deep emphasis, like fitting puzzle pieces together, and it sends you. You’re left even more breathless, more in awe at how fucking well Haewon takes your length. As if it was always meant for her.

Curses and praise aside, she’s never one to talk during sex. But then she makes the faintest comment about how your cock fits so snug inside her, and you honestly just lose it.

Once in a while, a certain inquiry is brought up. What’s your favorite thing about me, Haewon asks, when it’s supposed to be the opposite. You’re supposed to give out this very question to your students as a way to improve your teaching style and maybe come off as an approachable authority figure. As expected, it wasn’t helpful in the slightest. She then would suddenly come to you at the most random of times with this particular question, and you’d be preoccupied with numerous things—home life, school activities, the usual—to find an answer.

But right there, right as you spear deep into her tight, needy cunt, is where you figure it all out. It’s all in the little details. Your hand going up and down her arched back. The squelching of her pussy against your cock. The furious sound of your flesh slapping against hers. Her loose, shrilly whines while you bury your face between her chest, begging you harder. Her hands tangled with your hair and nape. All that while she’s bouncing on your lap at such a feverish pace; she’s going to break the chair you’re sitting on.

Before you know it, your tongue has traveled all over the most sensitive parts of her body: nipples, neck, and even pits.

Everything about Haewon is so ridiculous, you can’t believe how much of a challenge she has been for the longest time that you’ve forgotten how easily she folds. Like she’s meant to be used.

But no punishment is suitable enough; no amount of discipline can change her. If anything, it only fuels her goal to thread the needle even further.

“Gonna fucking cum, Haewon,” you hiss against her ear, blurring the line between kissing and biting her collarbone. Using all the strength in your hips, you have her legs spread as wide as they can over the chair, over your thighs. The squirt she releases as she crashes on your lap serves to fan the flames in your cock even brighter. It’s all but inevitable that you’ll pour it all inside her, and she wouldn’t want it any other way.

If you had any semblance of a spine, you’d never let her hear the end of it. The idea that her pussy isn’t getting its fair share of seed disgusts her. She needs to learn what boundaries are, and how not to cross said lines. At least there’s one lesson you can impart on her before you split, but you’ll save that for another day, because you cum.

You fuck Haewon so hard, she turns into mush that melts in your grasp. Forget the guttural groan you made; the aftermath is alarming. Her pussy drips with a huge load pooling on the chair and trickling down her thighs. You make sure you bury yourself to the hilt and unload inside her. The evidence is undeniable; from the smell to the sight of clothes and cum, there’s no concealing it—if there was even anything to hide, because your salacious activity could easily be heard anywhere in the building.

And lost in the madness is your train of thought; your body is reeling from the aftershocks of your orgasm, and you simply idle. Let your cock stay in Haewon’s warmth as long as possible. Let the setting sun bathe her pretty face in that lovely afterglow. Let her slowly recover and realize that you’ve been right all along about everything.

“Sir, you came inside me a lot,” she says, a little over a whisper, trying to take record of your work. Her eyes stay glued to the puddle of cum dripping down her leg, running a finger to taste you.

“For my favorite student, why wouldn’t I,” you tell her, caressing your hand up and down her back. Even through the climax, you never stopped.

The brief, peaceful respite is interrupted by, you guessed it, another phone. This time, it’s not Haewon’s. She moves gingerly bending down, almost tumbling over in an attempt to retrieve your phone from the depths of your pocket. Your only contribution is ensuring she doesn’t bash her head on the floor.

“Well, well, well,” she comments, looking at your phone with a familiar, sarcastic tone before handing it over to you. “Speak of the devil.”

On the screen are two missed calls and one new text, all from none other than Mina herself. A grim reminder of the reality you live in.

The message is as predictable as it reads. She won’t be home till late in the evening, which might as well be dawn of the next day.

“Miss Myoui is getting it. A hundred percent sure.”

She delivers it with such conviction that it might as well be fact. You’d be upset about the very thought—anyone would—but a glance at Haewon gives you an idea. One that leaves her curious.

“Sir? Why are you looking at me like that?”

You can already imagine it: the image of railing Haewon everywhere. On the table, against the wall, under the showers. Maybe if you’re lucky enough, Mina will go through that door and be greeted by the sight of her least favorite student getting fucked by her husband from behind.

You show her the text, and just like that, you’re both one and the same. A look of pride crosses her face, as if she’s accomplished an important milestone—and it’s quite a momentous one.

And what better way to celebrate than inside the comfort of your home.

—————

(A/N: Been down bad for Haewon since December. Also, NMIXX is actually good now! Their latest EP has some bangers, highly recommend Run for Roses and Passionfruit. The setting might be a bit more on the bleaker/less wholesome side, but I hope it's not uncomfortable/upsetting. Thank you for reading!)

#smut #kpop smut #nmixx #haewon

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lovings4turn · 6 months

Text

ᯓ★ 𝐌𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 (𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐒)

— a few days have passed since you last saw lando, yet your feelings are as strong as ever. there’s nothing like another party to finally set the record straight. (3.2k words)

+ aka. part two of don’t delete the kisses (and my longest fic to date on this blog !!)

+ again mentions of drinking and clubbing, largely fluff . lando n reader are only slightly tipsy ! this took far too long to get out but she's finally here - hope you all enjoy !!!

it had been three days since you’d gone to the club, and three days since you’d consequently fled from the club due to your inability to act normally around lando norris.

you hadn’t seen him since then, but you’d texted back and forth from the morning afterwards. you’d felt bad about the whole thing, just leaving without even finding him to say goodbye, and so made up some excuse about getting too overwhelmed and not wanting to ruin his night with your desire to go home.

and because he was an angel, lando didn’t even question you. instead, he instantly accepted your explanation, assuring you it was more than fine as long as you were okay. he could go without a goodbye, if it meant the best for you.

eighty percent of your subsequent conversations were complete nonsense. ever since you had became close all those years ago, lando had taken it upon himself to text you every single thought he ever had, no matter how menial or silly.

embarrassingly, as a result of being down so, completely, horrifically bad for him, you found each and every one endearing. yes, even the god-awful memes he would send you religiously between the hours of two and five am when he couldn’t sleep.

perhaps it was even worse that you’d go on to forward said memes to other friends, pretending that you had found them. you were unable to prevent the laughs that would escape your lips every time your phone buzzed with a notification from lando.

one on hand, you were on top of the world. on the other, you were going insane.

lando had positively taken over your mind, every corner of your head filled with deep brown curls and impish laughter. even the most menial things proved to link back to lando in some way, a tangled red string of association that to anyone else would make zero sense but was obvious to you.

you were icarus, and lando the sun; something to dream of but never to have. you were certain that if you chased him, your wax wings would melt rapidly as you succumbed to your impulses before you crashed onto the harsh ground of reality.

learning to cope with the heavy feeling of yearning was something you could do. suffering with a little heartache to keep lando in your life far outweighed not having lando at all.

being definitive in your decision to bury your feelings didn’t mean it wasn’t a struggle, though.

now more than ever, it seemed impossible to not think about lando, or talk about him, shout his name from the rooftops so the whole world could hear the praises you would sing for him. it appeared to be a pretty clear sign that you were losing any remaining shreds of self control, but what could you do? no matter how many times your head said no, your heart would tell you that it would always be lando, one thousand times over.

a notification lit up your phone screen, and you were convinced it was a sort of cruel taunt from the universe.

landonorris just posted a photo!

it was borderline masochistic, the way in which you tapped the notification instantly and allowed yourself to be led to lando’s latest instagram photo dump. alongside a few selfies, pictures of him from that night in the club were littered throughout, and though he was posing with friends in each photo, your eyes were focused solely on him.

without really thinking, you pinched the screen, zooming in a little further to admire every detail of lando’s face that had been captured by someone’s iphone. the moles that were dotted across his face like they’d been individually placed there, the unruly curls that begged your fingers to find a home in them, and that fucking smile.

realisation hit soon after, and you caught yourself with a groan. here you were, sitting looking at his pictures with a dopey, love-sick grin on your face, acting like a teenage girl with an innocent classroom crush.

“god! might as well write all over a notebook that he rocks my world or something,” you scoffed, mock disgust lacing your words.

oh great, now you were fucking talking to yourself. christ, what had he done to you?

in an act of frustration, you quickly liked lando’s photo before throwing your phone onto your bed, partially hoping it would get lost amongst the pillows so you couldn’t find it again and fawn over more pictures of your supposed best friend.

a distraction was what you needed. and so you stood up and made your way into the kitchen, praying that maybe cooking a nice meal for yourself would sort you out. either that, or you could hit yourself over the head with a frying pan and hope that the concussion would remove any feelings that breached the label of ‘platonic’.

and for two whole hours, your plan had worked.

not only were you able to enjoy the delicious meal you’d made, but also got through a good few episodes of the new tv series you had started watching a week or so ago. the lando shaped hole in your mind had been replaced by witty dialogue and pointless character drama, and you were beginning to think that you had everything under control.

that was until you returned to your bedroom and reached for your phone once more, your lockscreen lighting up to display yet another text thread from lando.

lando: going out tomorrow at 10!!!

lando: be there or be square😈

lando: i need my best dance partner w me

fingers dancing across the keyboard, the text was sent before your brain could even think about the invitation.

y/n: i'll b there🥳

it was official: you were absolutely fucked.

. . .

it was 10:28pm and you were already questioning your decision to come out.

you would say that you had no idea why you’d even agreed to the invitation, but that would be a lie. you knew exactly what had convinced you to get dressed up and leave your house tonight, and that reason was currently grinning at you from his place at the bar, clothed in another stupid button down shirt and sunglasses, of all accessories.

how he had managed to make sunglasses indoors not only acceptable, but attractive to you was just another sign of the power that the man held over you. you’re sure that if you told your friends, they’d never let you live it down. and hell, you wouldn’t even blame them for it.

from the moment you had arrived, lando had commanded your attention. there wasn’t an inch of your body that wasn’t intently tuned in to every word he spoke, each movement of his limbs and the expressions on his face. he had you completely hooked, and you were letting it happen, swept along in the riptide of your stupid crush,

whether it was from the pulsating house music, the shot lando had shoved into your hand the moment you’d shown your face, or even just lando himself, you felt electric. sparks of lightning rippled beneath your skin, every last nerve in your body buzzing with anticipation for something that you couldn’t even put your finger on.

butterflies swarmed your stomach, and if someone were to tell you you were looking at lando with stars in your eyes, you would have no doubt that it was true. because as he grinned at you once more, the lively groups of club-goers began to fade away leaving only a vignette of his figure.

you were experiencing every romantic cliche in the fucking book, all thanks to him.

you were unsure as to whether it was a minute or a hour before he was standing in front of you again, the scent of his aftershave almost taunting you as it enveloped you. lando was expertly clasping two vodka cokes in one hand and two shots of tequila in the other, sporting a lopsided smile.

“lando!” you groaned, actions betraying your scolding tone as you reached out to pluck the shot from his hand before grabbing your drink, careful not to cause lando to spill anything.

the last thing you needed right now was to spill a drink on lando’s white shirt. the sight of the material slowly becoming see-through until it offered you a glimpse of his tan, toned skin was more than you would be able to handle.

lando held up the plastic shot glass with a cheeky expression, a silent toast to god knows what, before he tipped the liquid down his throat. his face quickly soured, and he wasted no time in seeing off a large portion of his drink in an attempt to rid himself of the tequila flavour.

“woah, woah, slow down there,” you laughed, gently pushing the cup away from lando’s mouth. “got the whole night ahead of you.”

watercolour eyes dropped to glance at your hand, lando’s stare lingering even after you had pulled your hand back towards your body hastily, as though merely being in the proximity of his body was enough to burn.

you would have thought it odd, if lando hadn’t immediately taken your hand into his larger one and stalked off towards the dance floor, gently tugging you along without a word. your mind told you that lando had simply felt the effects of his drink quicker than expected, and it took him a minute to realise that leading you to the dance floor was the mission he would give himself for the night.

flashbacks of the last time you were out clubbing with lando played in the back of your mind like an old movie, something you would put on in the background for comfort yet wouldn’t pay much attention to.

one dance turned into two, and then three, and before you knew it you had been dancing with lando for the better part of an hour, both of you expertly adapting your moves to match the vibe of whatever song the dj decided to play next.

one of the many perks of attending clubs with formula one drivers was that there was an ever-flowing supply of alcohol. it was something you’d discovered after the first few times you had gone out with lando and his friends: you would finish your drink and before you could blink, someone had shoved a new one into your hand, the cup still marbled with cold condensation.

your current drink had been supplied by max, or maybe even carlos, a far too strong liquor mixed with nowhere near enough soda for your liking. your nose scrunched up at the taste, and lando laughed before gently plucking the cup from you, his fingers brushing against your own for a fleeting moment.

a fire burned in the pit of your stomach, noticing that lando’s lips landed perfectly over the lipgloss mark you’d left moments ago. an indirect kiss.

much like your own moments prior, lando’s face twisted up into a grimace at the taste, and he shook his head furiously.

“that's fucking awful,” he claimed, leaning down a little to shout his complaints into your ear. “whoever bought you that has shit taste.”

“says the man who bought a round of tequila earlier in the night.”

lando chuckled, mumbling a ‘fuck off’ that held more adoration than malice, in your humble opinion. like he had rehearsed it, lando smoothly palmed your drink off onto max before delicately taking hold of one of your wrists, twirling you around just like he had done a few nights ago.

possibly driven by a subconscious want to set right the events of your last night out, you repeated your own actions and spun lando under your arm in response.

lando’s grin was almost blinding, and he pulled you towards him, your hands still clasped by his as he moved your limbs around like the world’s worst puppetmaster.

you were convinced that, had he had enough room around him, he would have spun you both around until you were dizzy, a move he’d pulled many times when you were dancing together in one of your kitchen’s to pass the time it took to cook your meal.

sadly, lando had to settle for flailing arms and uncoordinated shimmies, his priority making you smile rather than trying to look suave amongst the mass of bodies at your every turn.

a few other drivers started to join your circle, handing you both more drinks as they tried to engage in miscellaneous conversation and playfully poked fun at yours and lando’s lack of coordination or apparent shame.

unable to control who stood where, thanks to the power of free will, you had been separated from lando, instead flanked by oscar and george whilst he was wrapped up in a conversation with max fewtrell.

thanks to his position across from you, lando was able to catch your eye, his brow quirked slightly in a silent question meant only for you to decipher. you nodded, a clear response to his wordless communication.

as though it were planned, you and lando began to leave. this was how your last french exit should have been; no longer were you alone and flustered, stumbling into the back of your uber with the desire to bash your head off of a brick wall.

no, this time you had lando’s hand in yours, the pad of his thumb brushing soft circles against the back of your hand as he expertly manoeuvred you both through the crowd, informing you that a car would already be there to take you back to your flat with him in tow.

apologetic texts and goodbyes weren’t necessary this time around, if the loud, obnoxious whooping and whistling from pierre and charles were anything to go by. with their propensity for gossip, you were sure that every inhabitant in the club would be informed of your swift exit with lando within the hour.

the ride home was filled with melodic laughter as lando made it his mission to unload every observation he’d made in the past few hours onto you. he’d taken particular interest in the argument two girls were having when he was waiting at the bar, and left no detail out as he recounted the whole event like some sort of one man show, his only audience you.

the streetlights you passed caused a flickering glow to dance across lando’s features, and the momentary flashes of illumination caused lando to look otherworldly, all shadows and contours framed by deep curls.

lando was so caught up in his story that he was oblivious to your wonderstruck stare, completely unaware of the way you were drinking in every last inch of him, committing each miniscule detail to memory and storing it away for a rainy day.

good, you thought. he’d only take the piss anyways.

the alcohol rendered you both a little unsteady on your feet, and you snorted a laugh as lando stumbled through your front door, catching his shoe on the tiny step that led into your apartment.

whoever lived underneath you would likely be cursing your name right now, as neither you nor lando were too concerned about remaining quiet and light on your feet as you bumbled over to your bedroom. comfort was the only thing on your mind, though you made a mental note to push an apology letter underneath the poor soul’s door the next day.

making himself at home, lando threw himself down onto your bed, the plush mattress eliciting a soft groan from him. his once closed eyes snapped open as you tossed a pair of his joggers at him, a pair he’d left at yours a few months ago (and that you may or may not have ‘forgotten’ to return to him.)

“i’ll get changed in a sec,” lando promised, sinking back into your sheets. “you can too. just, come on, lie down for a bit.”

lando delivered two quick pats to your bed, perhaps hoping it would prompt you to join him faster than you already would have. secretly, you were glad that he thought you needed convincing to lie down with him for a moment.

you pretended to consider it, eyes flitting over to where your makeup remover sat, before you gave in, mumbling an ‘okay’ as you clumsily removed your shoes and clambered onto the bed next to him.

the gap between you both was barely there. if you moved your hand just slightly, your fingers would brush against lando’s side. how easy it would be, just to grant yourself a slice of heaven for once.

lando’s voice brought you out of your trance.

“when you left, last time…”

an unfinished question. lando was clearly attempting to seem nonchalant as he broached the topic that you had both been skirting around since it had happened, his eyes trained onto the thread of your duvet that he had busied his hands with.

in that moment, you didn’t think you could ever lie to him, no matter how humiliating the truth was.

“it got too much. y’hands on me and everything, i got too flustered. i just didn’t want to make a fool out of myself, i guess,” you admitted as an embarrassed smile played on your lips.

a giggle trickled from lando’s mouth, prompting you to roll onto your side and face him with a raised brow.

“what’s so funny?”

“nothin’. just the fact you fancied me so much that you had to run away from me,” lando responded, grinning mischievously.

your response came in the form of a pillow hitting lando square in the face.

“oi!”

the pillow came flying back, but missed your body by roughly a couple of inches, the alcohol clearly impairing his usually decent aim.

“missed me,” you taunted.

unexpectedly lando’s face lit up at your words, and he rolled closer to you, propping himself up onto an elbow so that his face was hovering over yours.

you swallowed thickly at the sudden movement, eyes darting across his face frantically as though his motives would be written into the curve of his smile.

“think there’s a saying about that,” lando mused, a hand trailing up your side so gently that you half believed you were imagining it. “missed me, missed me, now you’ve gotta kiss me, or something.”

and if that wasn’t a sign to press your lips to his, you weren’t sure what was.

you swallowed lando’s sound of surprise as your lips melded with his own, his mouth soft and warm as he more than returned your affections.

clearly not content with the level of control he possessed, lando briefly pulled back and swiped the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip before attaching his lips to your once more, gently sucking the flesh into his mouth and nipping at it with a smirk.

it was slow, and a little sloppy, a blend of tongue and teeth as you desperately tried to taste as much of each other as possible.

your grip on lando’s shirt was vice-like, as though you were scared he would disappear if let out of your hands for even a fleeting second.

“don’t worry, ‘m not going anywhere, pretty girl,” lando teased softly, punctuating his words with another kiss. “y’stuck with me.”

and suddenly, everything had become clear. it was always going to be you and lando, a love that would transcend a lifetime.

tags : @wintfleur @faerieroyal @starriesworlds @itscrzy @ssararuffoni @tbsloneely @onecojg @basicchelsea

#.° ༘🗝️⋆₊ becca’s drabbles #lando norris #ln4 #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fic #lando norris fluff #lando norris drabble #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n

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hazbinwhoree · 7 months

Note

Haiiiii

So I’ve been thinking bout it and I have a sona who’s Asmodues’s daughter

And while I’m not asking to specifically write for my oc,I’m asking for your to write for the idea of it

Like Asmoduess daughter x Adam

And he’s like really fuckin suprised when she says she actually a virgin and then he’s like

“I could fix that”

Asmodeus’ Daughter

Asmodeus’ daughter and the first man in existence was a very unlikely friendship indeed, and neither of them could really tell you how it had happened. Adam normally would never be caught dead fraternizing with a demon, the daughter of one of the Seven Sins no less, but while he’d never admit it, (Name) had wormed her way into the position of his best friend.

Similarly, (Name) would normally avoid angels like the plague, but Adam was an exception. She couldn’t tell you why, but he was. She had to hide their friendship from her father, who would surely lose his mind were he to ever find out.

They were hanging out one day, in (Name)’s bedroom, discussing body counts. “I don’t even know the number anymore,” Adam admitted. (Name) laughed. “You slut!” “Hey!” Adam pretended to be offended. “You’re one to talk. The Avatar of Lust’s daughter? I know damn well you have bodies on bodies.”

(Name) bit her lip. “You’re never going to believe my body count.” Adam leaned forward, interested. “Above or below one hundred?” “Below.” “Ninty something.” (Name) shook her head. “Eighty seven!” “Nope.”

Adam leaned back. “I don’t wanna guess anymore just tell me.”

“Zero.”

There was a beat of stunned silence.

“Zero,” Adam repeated. “You’re full of shit.”

“I’m dead serious,” (Name) said. Adam’s jaw dropped. “You’re fucking Asmodeus’ daughter, how are you a fucking virgin?”

“My Dad is the sin, not me,” (Name) said.

“Wow.” Adam was processing this information. “So you’re really a virgin?”

“Yeah.”

“...I could change that.”

Another beat of silence. (Name) decided he was joking, laughing suddenly. “You’re funny.”

“I’m serious.”

There had always been sexual tension between them, but neither of them ever acknowledged it for the sake of not ruining their friendship.

(Name)’s cheeks reddened slightly. “Oh.”

“I’d be honored to be your first body.”

“I wouldn’t mind you being my first body.”

A pause.

Then they both lurched forward and crushed their lips together. The kiss was passionate and desperate, months of pent up tension being poured out in one kiss. Their tongues tangled together and (Name) moaned against Adam’s mouth.

Adam pushed her down on the bed and crawled on top of her, spreading her legs to settle between them. They continued to makeout, Adam’s hands beginning to wander. He slid his hands up under her shirt and grabbed her chest. “Nice rack.” “Shut up.”

Adam squeezed and massaged her breasts while they reconnected their lips, (Name)’s arms wrapping around his shoulders to pull him closer, trapping his hands between their chests.

(Name) could feel Adam’s erection against her inner thigh and it gave her a thrill.

“Adam,” she moaned.

Adam liked hearing his name, evidently, as his dick twitched. He pulled back to hurridly unzip and shrug off his robe. (Name) pulled her shirt over her head. Adam also removed his shirt. He dropped back down on her again, and ran his hands up and down her sides while they kissed, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

He snuck a hand down between them, sliding under the waistband of her sweatpants. He felt the wet patch on her panties and grinned. “I’m going to be the best body you’ll ever have,” he bragged, pulled her panties to the side and running his finger up and down, collecting her slick.

“How does it feel knowing your first dick is the original dick?”

He slid two fingers into her and her back arched at the intrusion. His thumb pressed on her clit to loosen her up.

“Feels good,” (Name) panted.

“Fuck.” Adam was so hard. It was taking everything in him to not just start fucking her brains out.

He added a third finger and (Name) took it without too much resistance. Adam pumped his fingers in and out for a minute before pulling out and yanking down her sweats and panties. She helped him, kicking them off, and he kneeled back to begin undoing his belt.

His movements were frantic and desperate, tugging down his pants and boxers, and tossing his belt behind him.

(Name)’s mouth went a little dry when she saw Adam’s dick. He really didn’t call himself Dickmaster for nothing. She briefly wondered how she was supposed to fit that inside of her but she trusted Adam.

Adam flipped her onto her stomach and tugged her hips up so her ass was in the air and her face was pressed into the bed.

“This position will be easy,” he told her, dragging his cock up and down her slit. “You ready?”

(Name) had never felt the need to be fucked so badly in her life. “Yes, fucking do it.”

Adam didn’t need to be told twice, and slowly began pushing himself into her. (Name) buried her face in the bed as he sank into her, overwhelmed with pain and pleasure simultaneously. Adam reached around her and began toying with her clit and pain was quickly overcome by pleasure.

Adam bottomed out with a groan. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good.”

“Fuck me,” was (Name)’s response.

Adam obliged happily, snapping his hips. (Name) cried out, gripping the bedsheets. Adam grabbed her hip with his free hand and began to thrust, setting a fast and hard pace. “Adam!” (Name) moaned. Adam bit his lip, his name on her lips shooting straight to his cock.

“Yeah, say my name. Who’s making you feel this good?” “Adam~” “Who’s the fucking Dickmaster?” He thrust particularly hard. “Adam!”

Adam groaned, his hips never slowing their pace. His finger steadily circled her clit in time with his thrusts. (Name) was absolutely fucked out beneath him. Her legs were beginning to shake and Adam had to hold her hips up. He could tell she was close.

“Who’s going to make you cum?” (Name) clenched around him and cried out, her orgasm hitting her hard. “Adam!”

Adam hissed as (Name) tightened around him, the sensation pushing him over the edge. He buried himself as deep as he could and came with a string of curse words.

They both stayed still for a moment, panting and collecting themselves. When Adam pulled out, his cum dribbled down her inner thigh. She collapsed on the bed. Adam collapsed next to her, pulling her into his chest. He covered her with his wing.

“So how was that? Great, right?”

(Name) laughed. “Not that your ego needs to be stroked any more but yes, it was pretty great.”

“I told you, I’m the fucking Dickmaster.”

#hazbin adam #adam x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #hazbin charlie #hazbin husk #hazbin vaggie #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel #hazbin lute #x reader #oneshot #oneshots #helluva boss asmodeus #hazbin lucifer #hazbin sir pentious #hazbin niffty

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stxrvel · 4 months

Text

the one where you came close! (2)

series summary. the holy grail of the seven men who ruled the country's entertainment used to be your friends at school. now, ten years later and between successes and failures, what reason would they have to want to come back into your life? pairing. eventually ot7 x f!reader. content. first of all, english is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes! curse words, we're still on the safe zone, angst if you squint, just silly writing! a/n. hi guys! finally second chapter is out! im blown away with your response!! thank u so much from the bottom of my heart! i loooooved reading your comments <33 pls remember updates are weekly or biweekly! and if you want to be tagged pls say so in the comments! see you next week ;)

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“This is unbelievable! We're going to be rich!!!”

“What makes you think my sister is going to give you any of that money?”

“I created that Instagram account that was tagged in Kim Taehyung's damn story, I deserve a raise!”

“What makes you drones think my daughter is going to give you any of that money?”

“None of you are going to get anything out of that act of feigned innocence. Honey, are you all right?”

It seemed like a light had gone on in the room, four pairs of eyes landing on your still pale, surprised face. The night had been heavy after Yuna's call and you'd had so little sleep that you didn't know how you were functioning at the moment. Maybe that was the thing: you weren't functioning at all.

When you woke up, you thought it had all been a bad dream and that definitely the first exposure you'd had to the guys in years hadn't been because Taehyung came across your books at a convention you decided not to go to and uploaded them to his Instagram account with over eighty million followers. It was impossible, wasn't it? Too crazy.

Maybe not as crazy as waking up to your parents banging on your bedroom door saying that over a hundred thousand orders had been placed overnight and they didn't have enough book production for that much demand.

Be that as it may, Yuna and your mother took care of the communications on the account. You went from having twenty followers (including your family and friends —your father had created an account exclusively for that and only followed you—), to almost sixty thousand in at least twelve hours. The posts you had worked so hard to create and put together were finally getting the attention they deserved, but it had all happened so fast and suddenly that it was too strong to process calmly.

Weighing which was stronger, whether Taehyung's acknowledgment of your existence after so many years of zero contact or that your book sales shot up so immeasurably that they couldn't even keep up with demand, even if a month went by, didn't make things any easier.

“She's obviously still in shock,” Yuna replied to your mother at your lack of response from the living room, right across the dining room where you had been sitting since you had come down from your room. Your breakfast was still untouched on the table, but that seemed to be the least important thing in the room with all the more important news.

“Have the printers answered yet?” your brother's voice through the speaker of your father's phone rang as you blinked, reality settling too slowly on your shoulders. You didn't even want to think about what it meant that Taehyung had done that. Maybe it was simply an altruistic act, wasn't it? Maybe he felt guilt and wanted to ameliorate it somehow. What better way than to do an act of charity?

“I'm on it,” your father was sitting across from you in the dining room, his laptop on the glass of the table as he moved his hands over the keyboard and stared through his glasses at the full tip of his nose. From the way his eyes narrowed, your mother snorted.

“Why don't you get those glasses adjusted if you know you don't see well up close, let alone on electronic devices?” the woman reached over, dragging your father's glasses until they were almost glued to his eyebrows. Your father barely gave her a goofy grin as your mother started shaking her hands. “You better move. I'll do it. You write too slow; you're getting on our son's nerves.”

“Nah, I'm fine. I don't know if y/n is tho.”

Silence returned and you growled internally. Well, that was enough conjecture and assumptions without any information to substantiate them, it was time to get down to business.

“Do you think we should take over this business now?” Yuna completely ignored your stretch and you sent her a confused look.

Your brother exclaimed from the phone in agreement. “I call dibs on the treasury!”

“There's no way you can keep the accounts right! You're studying law.”

“Seojun is good at numbers, Yuna.”

“Ha, with all due respect Mrs. I/n, he must only be good at counting sheep.”

“Hey,” you tried to get attention, getting up from the chair.

“y/n, don't talk, you're still in shock. Can you believe he once called me from the supermarket to ask if he got his change right? He didn't even move from the checkout counter. There were people booing him.”

“Ow, my poor baby.”

“I told you not to say that to anyone!”

“I can't keep quiet if they're speaking lies about you!”

“This wasn't lies! This is about my pride!”

“Nonsense. I'll handle the treasury. I double majored in finance and international relations for a reason.”

“You can't run anything without starting bossing everyone around!”

“It's not my fault you're a good-for-nothing!”

God. It was going to be a long day.

Sorting out the whole printing issue and the number of orders was difficult, but with a couple of stories, interactions with new followers and express delivery of the few copies you'd already had at home for months, the waters calmed down a bit. Now, in the stifling silence of your room, you wanted to run.

“Are you going to stare at the ceiling all night?”

“Maybe.”

Yuna watched you from the bed while all you could do was stare as notifications continued to pop up on your Instagram account and your mail because the requests simply wouldn't stop, even though you had made a thousand clarifications to all the new followers. You were trying to focus on the bright side of things, regardless of whatever reasons there may have been for everything to have happened that way, but with your friend's incessant gaze lying on your bed it made it a little difficult. You knew she wanted to pierce your skull from curiosity, but you wouldn't know how you would answer her questions.

“Is there anything you'd like to share with the class?”

The tension had become a little more latent during the last few minutes, when Yuna saw a specific notification on the account. Kim Taehyung and Park Jimin had followed you. To describe your look of shock might be an understatement, and all you did for the next half hour was run across the room and throughout the house vociferating that you were living a nightmare.

Yuna has known all along that you had never been a fan of the siamese or their clan of friends, but she never knew why exactly. You had to tell her that you weren't interested in fashion, that you didn't like the kind of music Jungkook made, that hip-hop was never your thing, that you weren't interested in dilfs and you weren't interested in dance either. You had to tell her that all the things you once did with them didn't matter to you because it was painful, even if it was hard to accept.

You couldn't remember the times you would go shopping at the small mall in town to buy the trending clothes to put together different outfits with Taehyung and Jimin, then go try them all on at your house and invite the others and even your parents to do an impromptu runway show. You couldn't remember how the genre of music that Jungkook and you listened to all the time on his iPod and your MP3 player was the same one that his entire music career focuses on. You couldn't remember the nights when Yoongi would share his writings with you and you would help him compose a song or two on the piano when he felt brave enough. Or the times when you would accompany Hoseok to his workouts and then watch him create dance routines to his favorite songs while Jungkook sang in the background. You also didn't want to remember the times when Namjoon and Seokjin would sponsor their trips and give everyone gifts without expecting anything in return.

You couldn't remember those things. It was too much to bear for such a weak heart.

“What do you want to know?” you sighed, your body sliding on the chair as the notifications grew.

“How did all this happen?”

“Why do you think I have an answer for that?”

Yuna clicked her tongue, sitting on the bed with the cell phone still in her hands, still staring at the notification that snapped her out of her sanity.

“It's just… this is all unbelievable, magnificent and unreal. But how come you're not so excited about what happened?” Yuna slid across the sheets, to be right in front of you, but you refused to look away from the computer. Every time you thought you had overcome and grown around everything that happened so many years ago, something would pop up to remind you that you still had a long way to go. Maybe the nostalgia was strong, but so was the anger. “Regardless of how things turned out, because I know you're not as big a fan as me, this opens a million doors for you and I don't know why you're not celebrating it like we are.”

“It's…complicated.”

“I don't think so. Tell me.”

Yuna was unstoppable when she wanted to get answers out, but besides the obvious, of course there was something else that bothered you and kept you from enjoying this boom so much.

“It's just that all of this doesn't feel like it was a product of my effort,” you began, letting your gaze wander over the desk. The copies of your books you kept for yourself, the first ones you'd ever printed several years ago, lay there, as tattered as your failed accomplishment. “It doesn't feel like an achievement that my work had exploded thanks to a celebrity whose fans would buy even the toilet paper he uses. A lot of those people won't even read the book. They will just buy it and take a picture of it to say that they have the same book that the great Kim Taehyung read. Many of those books will never have a life, they will just be dust collectors and be reminders that all this did not happen because of my effort.”

“What the fuck are you blabbering about? Of course it's the fruit of your effort! Of course you deserve it!” Yuna got up from the bed and moved the chair around the back to leave you in front of her disgruntled and almost offended face. You could see the words drawn in her face. “You worked so many years to pull this off and after so many bumps you finally can! You deserve to have what you wanted so badly. This recognition will last just the same because many other people will read them and love them and they may not be many, but you will form a solid foundation as time goes on with people who will be truly unconditional and supportive and that will grow over time. Don't look at this so negatively, maybe you skipped a couple of steps, but you had every right to. It was what you deserved after all the effort and dedication you put into this project for so many years.”

Yuna didn't hesitate for a second. Her very serious expression sent a shiver down your spine and you could tell from her furrowed brow that she really was angry at your perception. Perhaps she was right, but without knowing the full background of this specific situation, you were only left to shake your head in assent and send her a grateful smile.

“I guess you're right,” you lifted a shoulder, turning your gaze back to your mail notifications.

“Of course I am!” the smile returned to her face and it didn't take long for her to look back down at her phone with sparkling eyes. “Now that we got the emotional charge out of the way, would you mind telling me how you know Taehyung?”

Your breathing stopped for a second and you cursed yourself because it sounded too loud as you almost choked on your own saliva.

“Oh?”

Play fucking dumb.

“What, did you think I wasn't going to notice? He wrote it crystal clear.”

Yuna wasn't even looking at you, too focused on running her finger over the row of notifications. Her nonchalant demeanor only caused you to panic more. It was as if she had caught you red-handed.

One of the best writers I've ever met in my life, damn you Kim Taehyung.

“Ah… I didn't… I didn't really know him so let's just say…”

“He couldn't have said that for nothing, don't you think? No celebrity would do that unless it was a person they hold in deep regard.”

Yuna had just caught you totally off guard. Maybe you should've focused a lot more on what Taehyung had written before you blocked his user from your personal account and threw the phone in the bottom of your drawer the night before and tried hard not to think about the rest for the rest of the night and all that day.

“It's just that… uhm… we studied at the same school. But for a short time actually. I don't even remember it well actually, ha, ha.”

Your laugh came out too constrained under your friend's narrow-eyed stare. You knew you'd have a hard time convincing her because you were a lousy liar.

“You know, it always struck me as odd that you weren't a fan. Taehyung and Jimin are like the two extremes of your ideal type.”

“Whaaaat?”

“And Jungkook's music is literally the kind of music you listen to, you just don't listen to his. All the other artists in the same genre you do listen to.”

“That has nothing to do with…”

“And even your parents don't claim to know Kim Seokjin when your mother was literally a nurse. She probably worked with him.”

“What does that have to do…?”

“And your brother is a hip-hop fan. How come he doesn't listen to Agust D? He's the best rapper of the last few decades and he's been trending for a long time.”

“…”

At what fucking moment?

“And all of them, plus Hobi and Namjoon, they all went to the same school. They're all friends. And you say you went to school with Taehyung?”

“Ahm… well, yes, but it's not like I would have met the others.”

Yuna looked at you, really looked you straight in the eyes as if that way she could tell what it was you were hiding or as if that solved all her guesses. It was impossible for her not to figure it out if she had already tied up all the damn loose ends.

Since the boys had left one by one, clearly your family was the first to realize how much their departures had affected you. In the beginning there was communication and all, but when Jungkook was the last to leave you lost any kind of link with them completely. You never knew exactly what happened because no matter how hard you tried to contact them you couldn't, not even your parents could talk to the boys' parents. Perhaps they had simply grown up, matured, completely forgetting about their ordinary life in that town.

They seemed to have disappeared from the planet.

Until your family moved to the capital. Jungkook was just starting out as an idol, but he had an amazing debut. He had captivated the entire audience and was too successful almost from the second one. It was a torment to watch them grow professionally little by little because, although you were happy for their achievements and all, you couldn't forget that they had basically abandoned you. And your parents and Seojun had noticed. They had noticed how much seeing them all over the place was bumming you out, so unreachable when at one point they were all in your living room eating your mother's delicious kimchi and listening to your father's anecdotes. Everyone was affected by their departures, but clearly no one as much as you.

That's why, of course, your parents and brother had made a silent vow to keep all media about the boys away from you, because they didn't even talk about it by accident in the house, at least not when you were present.

“It must be a huge coincidence…” Yuna continued and only at that moment did you realize how much you got into your head. Your vision slightly blurred. “I shouldn't accuse you of anything for things like that, should I? What nonsense.”

You were probably as white as a sheet of paper.

“Yeah, it would be too weird… ha, ha.”

God, you had to stop letting out those giggles when you were nervous.

“Anyway, should we order fried chicken for dinner?”

“I think I heard mom say she was going to make japchae.”

“Ohhhhhh, Mrs. l/n's japchae is delicious!”

You let out a laugh watching your friend spring up from the bed and head for the door. She stopped halfway out and pointed her index finger at you.

“Don't tell my mom I said that.”

You made a gesture to zipper your mouth shut and Yuna finally left.

The previous conversation had been so tense that you already felt tired and ready to sleep at seven o'clock at night. Really the whole day had been so heavy for everyone that you didn't know how the lights in the house were still on. For now, you couldn't do anything else, even if orders continued to come in, now everything depended on the printer and how fast the books would come out, so you would have to wait.

Maybe you should rest. You had asked your boss for the day off, but tomorrow you would have to continue working hard. Regardless of the incredible growth you'd had, you couldn't let your work go to waste.

Tomorrow would be a new day. A quieter one, preferably.

a/n: i'll try to have ready part 3 for next week! see you on june 13 at 11:59 pm - GMT5 time!

tag: @rinkud @futuristicenemychaos @pastelpeachess @parapiop7 @kokoandkookie @midiplier @thunderg @lizzymizzy-blogg @ladymorrie @butnotmontana @lovelgirl22 @jjeonjjk7 @aurorathi @ot7stansthings @kunacat @borahaetelevision @mylovingstars @ghostlyworld @talyaaas-blog @slowlyshycomputer @jjk174 @maynina @saintomie @damn-u-min-yoongi @juju-227592

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queen-of-the-avengers · 3 months

Text

500

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.2k

Warnings: angst

Summary: You're given a gift that will allow you to help others. You try to use this gift for good and you never make anyone feel like a charity case. However, when you meet Bucky Barnes, you know you have to do something or he'll live the rest of his life in pain.

Squares Filled: graveyard (2021) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

The thing you love most about New York is not everywhere is like the city. If you travel far enough outside of it, it turns into any normal town like any other state has. You’re on your way to visit your parents at the New York State Veterans Cemetery since your father was a soldier in World War II. Your mother requested to be buried alongside him even though she was never in the military, and they let her.

It’s a four-hour drive from the city where you live, so you take this moment to yourself and think about your purpose on Earth. About once a month, you get like this because you’re not normal. You were born with the ability to see people’s pain above their heads in numbers ranging from zero to sixty. One is not in any pain at all and sixty is the worst pain a person can be in.

You’ve been to plenty of hospitals around New York, so you’ve seen people who are in a tremendous amount of pain, but no one has ever been above sixty. You��ve been on this Earth for thirty-three years and never have you seen someone with a sixty-one above their head. Why were you born with this ability? You’re not sure but you know you can do a whole lot of good with it.

It’s why you became a licensed therapist as well as a social worker. You take on jobs that will help as many people as you can. While you can’t heal anyone physically like a nurse or a doctor, you can help with their emotional and mental trauma which is where most of the pain lies. You’re the only person without a number above your head but it’s likely your powers don’t work on you.

You look at the taxi driver and see the number twenty-five above his head. He’s seen some stuff in his life, that’s for sure. He must be a taxi driver to get away from it all, to just coast through life without having to deal with a lot of stress. You’re guessing but it’s not like you’re going to ask the man what kind of trauma he’s been through in his life.

He drops you off at the cemetery and drives away once you’ve paid him. You like to spend hours with your parents and tell them all that you’ve seen and the people you helped, and that usually takes a few hours at the least. You clutch your mother’s favorite flowers and walk into the cemetery, keeping your head down out of respect.

You sit down right across from their graves and break the bouquet into two so both your parent can have flowers.

“I helped a teenager last week escape his abusive parents,” you begin. “They didn’t care about him and often used him as an outlet for their rage. His pain was at a thirty. Thirty. At age fifteen. I went to go visit him in his new home and his pain was at a twenty-seven. He’s healing and I’d like to think I had something to do with it. I wish you guys were here to see this. It’s amazing to see someone’s number go down because of something I did.”

You look up and scan the area when you notice a man standing by himself near one of the graves. The wind is knocked out of your lungs and you have to brace yourself on the ground so you don’t fall over. The man isn’t saying anything to the grave, just standing over it. Above his head is a whopping five hundred. If you saw someone with an eighty, you’d be floored. The fact that this man has a five hundred over his head… how is he still alive? It’s clearly not physical wounds that hurt him.

Who is this man? Even the most depressed people never go above sixty. You once got involved with a woman who was passed around in the sex trafficking ring and she didn’t even go above sixty. This man has five hundred.

Five hundred.

He says something to the grave before leaving, and you’re too shocked to get up and follow him. What would you even say to him? He had to have been broken down to the very last piece only to be put back together. Over and over again. That’s probably why he’s at five hundred. You don’t want him to feel like a charity case but you have to know that man. To think he’s walking around in such profound pain brings you pain.

“Mama, I think I found someone who might need my help. I’ll let you know how it goes next week.”

Since the cemetery is four hours away from the city, you’re hoping that he is from around here. You spend the next several days walking around Central Park just watching for that five hundred to show up again. You know exactly who the man was. You got a glimpse of his face as he was leaving the cemetery, and you knew he’d never leave New York. This is his home.

You know who he is and after some research on him, you know why he has a five hundred above his head. The following Saturday, you’re walking around Central Park in hopes of seeing this man again. You’d like to think because he has a five hundred, he has his humanity back. He’s feeling the guilt of everything he’s done so you know he isn’t dangerous.

Two women job past you laughing at what one of them said, and you notice how one of the women has a two above her head while the other has a fifteen. Maybe the fifteen did something her friend doesn’t know about and the guilt is starting to eat her alive. A young couple is sitting on the grass with a picnic between them, and both of them only have a five above their head. They must be in love. An elderly couple walks past them with both of them having a forty above their heads. Guess love doesn’t always work out for people in the end.

Central Park gets around six thousand daily visitors, and none of them have a number above sixty. You’ve traveled across the country for your job and non one has ever surpassed sixty. Not until him. You walk further into the park where a cluster of benches are, and you stop when you see that thick five hundred number again.

There he is. Sitting all alone.

Now’s your chance. You walk up to him who barely acknowledges your presence.

“May I sit here?”

He looks up and sees the book in your hands thinking you’re going to mind your business and read silently. He doesn’t say anything but nods so you sit across from him and open your book. You pretend like you’re reading it when really, you’re looking at him from over the top of your book. He has gloves on his hands and it’s not wintertime yet.

There’s a reason why he is wearing gloves.

“My name is Y/N. What’s yours?” you ask gently.

“Bucky.”

“That’s an interesting name. Is it short for something?”

“My middle name is Buchanan. My friends call me Bucky.”

“Nice to meet you, Bucky.” You go back to reading only to put the book down several minutes later. “Do you live around here? Or are you visiting someone?”

“No, not visiting someone.”

He’s clearly not into the conversation but you’re not going to give up. He’s not another project. You’re genuinely interested in getting to know him. Sure, his number enticed you to want to talk to him but you’re going to treat him like you would anyone else. It’s going to take a lot more than one conversation for him to open up to you.

The next day, you find him sitting in the same spot with the same five hundred above his head. You walk over to him and don’t ask to sit down, you just do. He lifts his head and notices the book first before looking into your eyes.

“Hi, Bucky. Do you mind if I sit here again?”

“No,” he shakes his head.

Today, you let him get used to your company. You don’t say anything to him except for when you part ways at the end of the day. You want him to be comfortable around you otherwise, he won’t talk to you. Every day after that, you keep sitting across from him reading the same book, allowing him to feel comfortable around you.

“So, what’s your book about?” he asks on the fourth day of sitting across from him.

“It’s called The Maze Runner. I know, it’s for an audience a bit younger than me, but I love the movies. It’s about a young man who wakes up with no memory of who he is and is stuck with a group of boys who also have no memory of who they are. They’re stuck in this maze-like area and they have to try and figure their way out of it that no one has ever survived. There are three movies but there are five books.”

“Sounds interesting. I’ll have to read it.”

“Here,” you close your book and hand it over to him, “take this.”

“No, that’s yours.”

“This is my fifth time reading the series.”

“I can’t just take your book.”

“Then consider it a loan. Give it back when you’re done. Plus, it’ll give me an excuse to come and talk to you again.”

Bucky smiles for the first time since you’ve met him, and God, what a beautiful smile it is.

“Thank you.”

“Look, I have to get going, but here is my number.” You write down your number on a spare piece of paper and hand it over. “If you ever want another good book recommendation or the second book in the series, give me a call. Or, you know, if you just want to talk.”

“Okay,” he nods.

You don’t have to look back to know he’s watching you walk away. The next time you see him is a couple of days later. He hasn’t used your number which is fine because you don’t want to rush anything with him.

“Did you finish it?” you ask and sit across from him.

“Yeah, I did. It’s really good.”

“I brought the second one just in case.”

You two exchange the books and he smiles at you.

“Thank you. Would you like to go on a walk with me? Just around Central Park.”

“Sure.”

A walk around the park usually takes two hours if you’re leisurely enough about it, and there is no rush to go anywhere else. You want to ask Bucky a million things about his life and where he came from but you don’t pry into his life. You can get that information online if you want to, but you want this relationship to grow naturally.

Though, you’re not sure you understand why someone like him can be this sad about who he is.

“So, this might be a weird question but how do you feel?”

“Why is that a weird question? I’m fine.”

“It’s just… you seem so sad sometimes.”

“Honestly? There’s not a whole lot to be happy about these days.”

“You’re alive, right? That’s a pretty damn good day to me.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes, I wish I wasn’t.”

“Well, if you weren't, I wouldn’t have met you. I think you’re a great guy.”

“That’s because you don’t know who I am. If you did, you’d be smart to run,” he sighs.

“I know who you are. I know about the Winter Soldier. I lived in DC when everything happened with Steve.” He looks at you and uncertainty swims in his eyes. “It doesn’t matter to me. I’ve read about what you have done. Hell, I’ve seen it, but that doesn’t make you a bad person.”

“It doesn’t?” he asks with a thick voice filled with emotion.

“Come on, there are a lot of people worse than you like child molesters and rapists. On that spectrum, you’re not so bad. What makes a person bad is the fact that they know what they’re doing is wrong and still continue to do it. When someone wakes up and stops doing what made them bad, that’s not being bad. When someone is manipulated into doing bad things but doesn’t do those things anymore, that’s not being bad. I’m sorry, am I making any sense?” you chuckle.

“Yeah, you are,” he chuckles back. “Thank you.”

“Thank you for the walk but I need to go now. I have to get to work. Can I take you out? You know, a place that’s not Central Park? I can show you my favorite bookstore with books like The Maze Runner.”

“I’ll text you.”

“Great. I look forward to it.”

You start to walk away from him knowing he is watching you walk off. When you get to the busy street, you look back and notice something that brings a bright smile to your face. That five hundred above his head? It’s now at four hundred and ninety-nine.

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

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riordanverse-crime-cases · 1 month

Text

The Di Angelo Siblings: A Cold Case

One early unsolved case that confuses people to this day is the case of the Di Angelo siblings, Nico and Bianca Di Angelo.

They were born in Italy to Maria Di Angelo, Bianca in 1926 and Nico in 1928. Soon after their births, the family of three packed up and moved to Washington, D.C., where, according to friends and neighbors, they lived happily without trouble. Records show that the children were healthy and did well in school, living peaceful lives. People also state that the siblings never knew who their father was, but didn’t seem to mind much, or perhaps they were too young to care. Nevertheless, they grew up untroubled.

However, disaster struck when World War Two broke out in 1938, when the small family left for what was meant to be a short trip. According to an anonymous source, Maria had allegedly been planning to meet with the father of her children, though there’s no way to confirm nor deny that this is what she had planned, nor if the meeting had ever even occurred, for soon after, the hotel they were staying at suffered a severe explosion.

Allegedly due to a gas leak, the blast caused many fatalities, including to the Di Angelos; Maria’s remains were found blown apart amidst the rubble.

What makes this case so bizarre is this: Bianca and Nico’s bodies have never been located. In fact, it’s possible they hadn’t been caught in the accident at all—eyewitnesses claim seeing children matching Nico and Bianca’s descriptions being led away by a man in a business suit. The two siblings seemed “completely unharmed” and “eerily at ease”, as if they hadn’t even known about the explosion. Several reported sightings follow the Di Angelo’s path state-by-state, in Indiana, Missouri, Colorado, Utah, and finally down to Las Vegas, Nevada, where the siblings suddenly disappear. Investigators have been left puzzled by this case for decades, trying their best to figure out who the man must be, why the children were with him, why they were unharmed.

Some theories suggest that the man was, in fact, the biological father of the children, and he had taken his son and daughter from their mother before the explosion occurred. This may be a plausible explanation, but it raises questions on why Maria wasn’t with them, or why this man—who had been seemingly absent from their lives for ten years—had arrived at the hotel just to take his children halfway across the country. Internet users theorize that he may have kidnapped the children, and Maria was going to report them missing if she hadn’t died in the gas leak.

Further complicating this case is the fact that there’s zero evidence of either sibling ever being in Vegas. Their medical and academic records stopped being updated from when the short trip began, and the siblings never legally appeared anywhere after that, not in Nevada or in Washington.

With no reliable leads, investigators have declared this a cold case, and the Di Angelos were declared legally dead in 1952, more than fourteen years after their disappearance. The case was closed, and people stopped looking into it.

However, starting a few years ago, users have discovered that there have been reported sightings of the siblings. Though the children would be well into their eighties by now if they’d even survived, these sightings claim that Nico and Bianca look like they haven’t aged a day.

These claims would be preposterous if the children didn’t allegedly have the exact names as Nico and Bianca Di Angelo, and they’re allegedly the same age. Conspiracy theorists have a multitude of explanations for this, from the Bermuda Triangle and Greco-Roman myths of Lotus flowers, to space missions and time-warping science experiments performed on the children, but none of these should be considered as evidence for obvious reasons.

Internet sleuths have discovered that these alleged clones of the Di Angelos were enrolled in Westover Hall, a military school in Bar Harbor, Maine, though they disappeared from school records after December. More reported sightings of the Di Angelos, specifically Nico, have been reported, but authorities dismiss these as fabricated nonsense claims designed to confuse and scare the general population.

Up Next: The mysterious death of Jason Grace—a boy missing for fourteen years.

#percy jackson #percy jackson series #nico di angelo #heroes of olympus #hoo #rrverse #percy jackon and the olympians #bianca di angelo #riordanverse crime cases

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blueberrylixie · 10 months

Text

yes, professor

professor changbin x fem! student reader

word count: 9,903

content warnings: oral sex (m and f receiving), vaginal penetration, pussy job, fingering, overstimulation, unprotected sex, creampie (use protection kids!), professor kink, pet names (princess, angel, baby), light degradation (bin calls her a slut mostly), spanking with hand and a ruler, classroom sex.

let me know if i missed anything in this one-shot bc i tend to miss stuff! if you want to skip to the smut, scroll to the white heart divider!

Your first day of your last year of college was already off to a bad start.

Not only was it already eighty-eight degrees out at only ten in the morning, but you had tripped and fallen on your way out of your dorm, and skinned your knee. The cut still hurt like a bitch, even as you traipsed the fifteen minutes to your first class of the day.

And that was really the cherry on top of this miserable summer day. You had to attend your first and only college math class. And you were absolute shit at math.

If you had your way, you wouldn’t be taking this course at all. Not only were you bad at the subject, but you hated it. You wanted to become a technical writer, which 90% of the time didn’t actually require you to know any math. Writing? Love. Science? Fine. Even history was passable, Cs get degrees and all that. But math, for lack of better words, was the bane of your existence. You even struggled to pass back in high school.

So no one could blame you for putting off this class until practically the last second. You didn’t want this to be your very last course before graduation, because that would be absolute torture. So you buckled in to take it your fall semester instead.

And oh how you were regretting it.

Now, you stood outside the classroom. The little window on the door was covered with white paper, so you couldn’t see inside. If you could, you would probably have run away.

Instead, you steeled yourself, straightened your shoulders, took a deep breath, and pushed it open.

You had arrived a few minutes early, a little later than you usually were to other classes. You had admittedly stalled back at your dorm for as long as possible, knowing what was in store.

You took a seat in the second row, a few seats away from a quiet-looking guy with dark hair. You pulled a notebook and pencil out of your backpack, before looking up at the front of the room.

And that was when you saw him.

He was standing facing away from you, writing something on the chalkboard. He wasn’t very tall, but he was incredibly built. His broad shoulders flexed in that navy blue button-up as he wrote, and you couldn’t help but check him out. His movements were confident and sure, like he knew he belonged up there.

You’d never had a hot professor before. Maybe that was about to change.

Of course, he could have an unattractive face, you reminded yourself. Or even worse, a shitty personality. Just because he was ripped didn’t mean he was hot.

Then, he turned around.

Dear God. Your heart rate picked up immediately, your chest contracting as you gazed upon him rapturously. You didn't want to look behind you to see if anyone else felt the same way. There was no way they didn't.

His dark hair was styled casually, wavy bangs sweeping across his forehead. He had kind, intelligent, yet humorous eyes, adorned with thick-framed black glasses, and small but full lips. Your eyes kept zeroing in on them, and you found yourself wondering what they would feel like against yours.

You shook your head, instantly clearing that thought from your mind. You could not be imagining your professor in that way. Even if he was young, maybe five years older than you at the most. You could not think about him like that. You were terrible enough at math as it was, and you couldn't afford to get distracted.

But when he smiled at the class, your mind went blank, forgetting your little pep talk. God, how could a man look so fine by simply existing?

“Good morning, class,” he said, pointing up at the board. My name is-“

Seo Changbin.

You read the two words, written in a rushed, messy scrawl. You almost mouthed his name, wanting to feel what it was like to say it. But you kept your mouth shut.

“My name is Seo Changbin, and I’m your professor this semester,” he continued. “This is a mid-level calculus class, so if that’s not what you’re here for, then you should probably leave now.”

You inwardly sighed. Taking a mid-level math class when you hadn’t taken math in four years seemed dangerous. And honestly, in any other situation, you might have hopped up and left, off to find the easiest possible course the school offered.

But how could you pass up the chance to be around this absolute specimen of a man for an entire semester?

So you stayed put.

“Good.” Changbin moved his hair out of his face, and you watched with a fervor you never thought possible. If your friends could see you, they would call you a simp. For this man, hell yes you were.

“Now, I’ll be coming around with the syllabus.” He held up a stack of papers. “We’ll go over it, and then jump into the first lesson. Don’t worry, it’s nothing crazy. Yet.” He smirked, and your breath stuttered in your throat. Every time you assumed he couldn’t get any hotter, he inevitably did.

He started making his way up and down the rows of students, handing them the small syllabus. He greeted a few who he must have known from a previous course, asking them how their summer was.

So he was an attentive teacher, too. Dammit.

Finally, he reached you. When your eyes met, just the hint of a smile graced those perfect lips. You held his gaze, unable to look away. Your entire body was on fire, and you crossed your legs in what you hoped was a casual manner.

For a split second, you could have sworn his eyes flicked up and down your body, once, checking you out. But it was so fast, you couldn’t tell. Your face was so hot, you couldn’t think straight.

“And what’s your name?” he asked, coming to a stop in front of you.

As you introduced yourself, he took a step nearer, leaning down. He wasn’t even that close, but you instantly felt the need to pull him to you. You weren’t sure if he felt it too, but the energy between you was magnetic.

“Are you new here?” he asked curiously. “I’ve never seen you in my class before.”

“No, I don’t usually take math classes,” you responded. “This is my first and only one, actually. I’m an English major, but it was required.”

“So you’re a senior?” he chuckled. “Waited till the last possible minute to join us, did you?”

You shrugged, embarrassment threatening to overwhelm you. But you didn’t let it show, simply shrugging and smiling at him. “Math isn’t my thing.”

“Well, hopefully I can change that,” he grinned, handing you a syllabus. “Welcome.”

As he started class, you became enthralled with how knowledgeable he was. While most everything went over your head, you found yourself wanting to understand what he was saying. You wanted to impress him, wanted him to be proud of you. So while you would usually space out and succumb to boredom, you actually read the syllabus in its entirety, and took vigorous notes. Even if it was boring, you wanted to hear every word that came out of Changbin’s mouth.

When class was over, and you were packing up, Changbin walked over to the desks, saying goodbye to some of the students. You ignored him, not wanting to come off as too eager.

“It was nice to meet you, Miss English Major,” Changbin said, and you looked up, shocked that he remembered anything about you.

You glowered at him, rolling your eyes playfully. “Is that all you’re going to refer to me as from now on?” you teased.

He shrugged, straightening his shirt and smiling. “Once I get to know you, I’m sure I’ll refer to you as something else. For now, have a good day, Miss English Major.”

——————————

Two weeks passed uneventfully.

Changbin’s calculus class had started ramping up, and you were barely surviving. Everything was very confusing, and you found yourself blacking out for most of class just staring at your hot professor, instead of learning. All your other courses were a breeze, which left you tons of time to focus on failing to understand basic math.

You and Changbin had continued to talk, a little bit every day after class. He would ask you about your other courses, mostly about writing and all kinds of grammar. He seemed genuinely interested in you and your life, which was so opposite from any other teacher. He even wanted to know about your personal life, like your family and friends. You told him everything. Except the fact that your friends were dying to meet your aforementioned “hot professor”. It felt nice knowing that he supported you, even if you were inevitably going to fail his class.

You fell into a nice groove, of sorts. You would act cool, funny, even effortless, to his face, and when you got back to your dorm, when none of your roommates were back yet, you would touch yourself to the thought of him. Fantasizing about his rough, strong hands holding your thighs open as he ate you out, or him caging you in between his huge arms as he pounded into you from behind. You couldn’t help it, you were infatuated by him. You wanted him, no matter how terrible you were doing in his class.

All that changed on the Monday of your third week.

“Next week, we’re having our first test,” Changbin announced as he stood at the front of the room. He turned on the projector to display a PowerPoint presentation with information about the test.

It would be thirty percent of your overall grade. One test?? Thirty percent??

You felt your mouth hanging open as you stared up at the screen, then down at Changbin. How could such a kind, handsome man do this to you? Was he trying to make you fail?

Changbin met your eyes, and a smile graced his lips. You snapped your mouth shut, feeling your face warm. He definitely just saw you gaping at him like a fish. Totally smooth.

“I know some of you may be worried, and some of you may not,” he said. “And if you’re one of the former, I would love for you to stay after class and talk to me about it. I know you all have the ability to pass this test. Every answer to every question is in your notes. Study those as hard as you can, and you’ll be more than fine.”

You could feel your heart rate picking up as you thought back on the dozens of pages of notes you’d taken over the past four classes. You couldn’t think of anything that made sense. How were you supposed to take a test and pass? Let alone one that was worth so much of your grade?

For the rest of the lecture, you could scarcely pay attention as you continued to spiral. Clearly, you should have just taken a different class, hot teacher be damned. To be fair, you hadn’t expected the class to be this hard.

As the class ended, you started packing up in a daze. You had a morphology course - one of your favorites - next, but you were thinking about skipping it so you could study for this test instead. Even a week straight of studying probably wouldn’t be enough for you to pass, so you needed all the time you could get.

You were so wrapped up in your thoughts that you didn’t even notice someone calling your name, over and over again.

“Miss English Major! Miss!” Changbin finally called, and your head whipped around to face him, your cheeks warming at the nickname.

“I-sorry, what’s up?” You stumbled over your words, trying not to look completely flustered. From his look of understanding, you knew you had failed.

“Would you like to study with me tonight?” he asked gently, approaching your desk.

“Ah, why would you think I need extra studying?” you asked quickly.

“I have eyes,” he said with a quiet laugh. “And you look like you’re about to pass out. Really, the test isn’t going to be hard. But like I said earlier, I’m more than willing to tutor any student who needs help. I have the time.”

You sighed. “Am I really that obvious? Or do I just look like an idiot?”

Changbin shrugged, moving so he stood in front of you. “I can tell you’re really smart. You just don’t believe in yourself. So… I’ll see you at six tonight? I’ll bring donuts?”

You relented, grinning. “If you bring glazed donuts, I’m in.”

“Are there any other kinds?” he winked. “See you tonight.”

Oh, you were so done for.

——————————

You arrived at 5:55pm, terrified of being late, or wasting Changbin’s time. You assumed he was so busy already, and you didn’t want him waiting on you.

Seeing as he wasn’t there yet, you just stood awkwardly at the side of the room, unsure if you should pull up a seat by his desk, or just wait for him.

He arrived a few minutes later, carrying a cardboard box from the campus donut shop. Your heart leaped when you saw him, dressed in a casual black t-shirt, zip-up hoodie, and jeans. He would have fit right in as a student.

“Oh, you’re already here.” Changbin grinned at you, and your face heated. He was so hot when he smiled.

“I’m always on time,” you pointed out.

“You’re always late to my class,” Changbin chuckled, shaking his head.

“Maybe it’s because I don’t like your class,” you countered.

“Ouch.” He came to sit at his desk. “Here, sit with me.” He motioned to the chair next to his.

“So, what would you like more help with?” He asked when you got settled.

You sighed. “What don’t I need help with?”

He frowned, tilting his head. “Am I really that bad of a teacher?”

“No!” you said hurriedly. “Math just really isn’t my thing. I probably made a mistake taking a mid-level class. Everything is just really over my head. It’s not your fault.”

“Well, we can start from the beginning,” Changbin conceded. He glanced down at your notebook, which was covered in your neat but hurried scrawl, and even a few shitty doodles at the top of each page. “May I?” he asked, pointing at them.

You nodded, pushing them towards him.

He took it, and flipped back to the beginning. “You’ve taken really thorough notes,” he complimented, and you blushed. At least you were doing something right.

“I’m trying to pay attention to you.” You smiled weakly.

Changbin started pointing at things in your notes, trying to explain them as thoroughly as possible. You had to admit, he was very good at dumbing down every concept, and even gave you examples of when they might be used in the real world. That tended to be your struggle with math. None of it made any practical sense, it was so abstract. At least with words, they always correlated to a real-world thing, or concept. Math was filled with what-ifs, and you hated that.

As he pointed at your notes, he moved closer and closer to you, his arm brushing yours. Your skin tingled from the touch, almost desperate to feel more of him. His arms were so firm, entirely made of muscle. Of course, you had known that from hours of staring at him. But being this close to him, getting to touch him, was intoxicating, making your mouth water. If only you could reach out and-

“Are you even listening to me?” Changbin’s voice snapped you out of your lusting.

“Yes! I was just uhh…” you paused, unsure what to say.

He raised an eyebrow at you, pushing his glasses higher up his nose.

“Ah, no I wasn’t. I’m sorry.” You ducked your head, unable to meet his gaze.

He turned his chair to face yours. “I’m sorry, this is all probably way too much all at once. I should have realized that,” he apologized. “Maybe we should take a five? Then we’ll get back into it.”

You brightened, nodding quickly. “Yeah, that would be great.”

He grinned, sitting back in his chair. “You’re nothing like my usual math students, you know.”

You raised your brows at him. “That sounds like a badly veiled insult, Professor Seo.”

His eyes darkened for a moment at the way you said his name, but he seemed to shake it off immediately. “No, it’s just an observation. You’re very different.”

“How?” Your eyes drifted over to the box of donuts, which sat untouched next to you.

He shook his head at you. “Because of stuff like that. You’re very easily distracted. Just have one, or I’ll never get your attention back.”

You smiled apologetically, before tearing the box open and grabbing a glazed donut. “I can’t believe you actually brought these for me.”

“For you??” Changbin exclaimed. “Nah, I wanted them. You were just an excuse. Pass one here.”

You glared, taking a bite. “Okay that’s rude. I would think you cared more about your struggling student.” You handed him a donut.

He laughed at that before taking a bite too. “Of course I care about you.”

You gazed into his eyes, watching the way his throat moved as he swallowed. Your eyes flickered back up to his, wondering if there might, just might, be a hidden meaning behind that.

Before you could stop yourself, or fully process what you were doing, you felt yourself moving imperceptibly closer to him, like there was an invisible force pulling you.

Your face was a mere foot away from his, your eyes remaining locked with his. “How else am I different from the others, Professor?”

He groaned, a low sound deep in his throat, and you saw a flame flicker to life in his eyes. A flame of desire, you wondered? Did he want you just as badly as you wanted him? Had he thought about you in the same way you thought about him? Your stomach twisted with desire, hot and potent.

Your hand reached out to grip his thigh, desperate to touch him. But before you could make contact, his hand grabbed your wrist, stopping you.

“What-“ you began.

“We can’t do this,” he said. His voice was quiet, but firm.

“What are you…?” you trailed off, your heart thudding so hard your head hurt. Was he rejecting you right now? After that almost animalistic noise came from him, just by making eye contact? A noise that would most definitely be used to fuel your nightly desires? “But you were just flirting with me!”

“I was,” he paused, licking his lips. You wanted to know what that tongue tasted like. “But I can’t. You’re my student, and it was incredibly unprofessional of me. I’m sorry.”

You pulled your hand from his grip, moving your chair away from him, fighting to keep your voice steady. “Yes, you’re right. Let’s continue studying.”

“Okay.” Changbin nodded, picking up your notebook again. “Onto lesson two.”

You continued the study session for another hour, before bidding him farewell. He promised that he would continue to help you study for two hours every night, and you agreed. He also demanded that you take the rest of the donuts home, but you refused. It felt wrong, somehow, to take something from him.

You walked back to your dorm, body burning with shame.

——————————

For the rest of the week, you dutifully attended each study session with Changbin, carefully avoiding any kind of physical closeness with him. You knew that if you got near him again, you wouldn’t be able to control yourself.

Your thoughts were plagued by images of him. The way he smirked playfully at you when you got a question wrong, the glimmer of pride in his eyes when you got one right. His strong arms as he leaned over your notes, and his tight ass and muscular legs when he stood in front of the chalkboard to write every morning, or give lectures.

No matter how hard you tried to ignore your growing feelings for him, you couldn’t help it. Every night, you found yourself desperately touching yourself to the thought of him doing unspeakable things to you, imagining it was him ravaging you instead of your vibrator. Him straddling you from above as he pounded into you with that thick cock, instead of your fingers. At this point, you knew it would never happen, but the forbidden, risky aspect turned you on even more.

Finally, the day of the test had arrived. Your heart had been racing with adrenaline. The night before, you had left this very classroom, saying goodnight to Changbin before cramming even more.

“Good luck, Miss.” He’d smiled at you on your way out.

“Thanks, I’m really gonna need it,” you had replied.

“No you don’t,” Changbin said as you left.

The test had been shockingly easy. You weren’t sure if it was because Changbin purposely made the questions simpler than usual, or if his study sessions really had helped. But you whizzed through that test like never before. It gave you hope that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t absolute shit at math after all.

Now, Changbin was passing out the test results. You hoped your gut instinct that you’d done well was right.

He placed the test on your desk, shooting you a faint smile.

“Well done, Miss English Major,” he whispered, so quiet you could barely hear him.

You peeked at the top right corner, almost afraid of what it said.

92%.

Your head whipped around to face Changbin, who was now a couple of desks down.

Holy shit. Not only had you passed, but you passed with an A! How was that possible??

You wanted to run over to him and leap into his arms, but you had to hold yourself back. No one, including Changbin, wanted that.

You would wait until the end of class to celebrate.

As you packed up your bags, Changbin cleared his throat.

You looked up to see him motioning you towards him. Of course, you couldn’t help but obey.

After the other students had left, you approached him, a huge smile plastered across your face.

“I passed!” you exclaimed, suddenly breathless. “I-I can’t believe it! Thank you.”

He shook his head, unable to hide his smile. “It was all you. You studied harder than I’ve ever seen any student do before. You earned it.”

Before you could stop yourself, you wrapped your arms around his midsection and hugged him.

“Seriously, thank you,” you said quietly. “I’ve never gotten an A on a math test, ever.”

Changbin laughed, and for a split second you thought he was going to hug you back. His arms raised to grab your waist, and your heart thudded in anticipation. You had thought about what it would feel like to be in Changbin’s arms countless times.

But instead, he pushed you away. His movements were gentle, respectful even, like he didn’t want to hurt your feelings.

It did quite the opposite. It stung more to know that he wasn’t an asshole who just wanted a girl's attention, but he thought he was doing the right thing in rejecting you for a second time.

“Well… thanks again,” you said lamely, moving away from him. “I’ll see you next week.”

You practically ran out of the room, tears stinging your eyes. You wouldn’t let yourself get hurt again.

——————————

Changbin stood at the front of his classroom, preparing for that day’s lesson. It was two months into the semester, and about time for another test. The last one had been almost a month and a half ago, and his students were beginning to get complacent. It was his job to make sure they didn’t get too comfortable.

It had also been about a month and a half since he’d properly talked to you. Ever since you had thanked him for all his help on that first math test, you had avoided him.

He wished you wouldn’t. But you were right to. He would have done the same thing if roles were reversed.

He had rejected you, twice. Those glorious five days tutoring you were some of the best times he’d had in his entire three years as a professor. He’d never met someone half as bright, witty, or funny as you.

Or as beautiful.

Let’s be real, fucking sexy.

That first day of class, when he’d turned around and met your gaze, still stuck with him. Those curious yet guarded eyes of yours instantly drew him in, and he’d had to inwardly slap himself just to focus on his job. He’d never let anyone distract him from work before, let alone one of his students. He’d worked hard to get where he was, and ever since he got the job, he’d made a promise to himself never to date a student. From watching his colleagues, it never ended well.

And no one had ever made him question that promise. Until you.

Everything about you intoxicated him. The way you rolled your eyes at his cringey jokes, that little crease in your left eyebrow when you were focusing extra hard, the dimple on your left cheek when you smiled. Your determination to be good at whatever you put your mind to. And something he hadn’t expected: your desire to please him.

In a strictly professional sense, of course. Or so he convinced himself. Until you two had almost kissed. And he’d told you no. That had to be in the top five of his stupidest moments, and he had a lot of those.

For that whole week, he’d found himself wishing that you would try again. He couldn’t stop thinking about you. When he went home to his empty apartment, he found solace in his hand, thoughts solely on you. About the way it would feel if it was your hand instead of his, gripping his shaft as you stroked him up and down, those nimble fingers knowing exactly where to place more pressure, where to be gentle. That pretty mouth of yours wrapped around him, taking his thick cock to the hilt. And he would cum to the thought of you, knowing that he couldn’t have you.

Even when you hugged him after the test, he still rebuffed your advances. Why? What the hell was wrong with him? He wanted you, you wanted him. It was legal, you were both adults. And yet, he had still rejected you.

He still thought about you, obsessively so. The more he came to the fantasy of you, the more he became reliant on your presence, craved it, really. He looked forward to seeing you everyday in class, even if you didn’t speak a word to, or barely looked at him. But your beautiful self walking to his class by yourself, gave him a sense of security.

Today, he arrived at class, eagerly awaiting your presence. When he turned around to face the door, slightly concerned because even two minutes into class, you hadn’t arrived, his stomach quite literally dropped.

Because you weren’t alone.

——————————

Hwang Hyunjin was the smoothest man alive.

You’d noticed him sitting a few seats away from you since the first day of class. He was incredibly smart, but tended to keep his mouth shut. He was always busy writing or drawing something on his notes instead of paying attention, and when you weren’t busy staring at Changbin, you found yourself watching him instead.

The two of you had been paired up for a class discussion, and he mentioned that he loved art. Being the creative that you were, you asked him what he liked to draw, and he showed you some of the doodles he did during class. They were good, really good.

When he asked you out for coffee a month into the semester, you’d had no choice but to say yes. And you had a great time.

It was clear that Changbin had no interest in you, so who could blame you for wanting to spend time with another hot guy? Who cared if you still thought about him in the privacy of your dorm, late at night? That was just a phase. Every college girl had a crush on her professor at some point, right?

You and Hyunjin weren’t really seeing each other, it was casual. So you had never come to class together, or showed any sign that you were interested in each other.

Until today.

Hyunjin had walked you to class, after treating you to coffee. You were even later than usual, but you found that you didn’t mind.

But when you walked into the classroom, and Hyunjin suddenly grabbed your hand, it was clear that someone minded. They minded a hell of a lot.

Changbin’s eyes seared into the two of you, his gaze roaming over both your and Hyunjin’s faces, before landing on your connected hands. His jaw clenched and unclenched, a vein ticking in his forehead, but he stayed quiet. His fists were pulled tight at his sides, those huge arms flexing in a most mesmerizing way. You couldn’t help but stare. Was there the potential that he was… jealous?

Of you. Being with another guy.

Before you could think about it further, Changbin cleared his throat, and Hyunjin sat next to you for the first time that semester.

You should feel giddy that this gorgeous man was sitting with you, but you couldn’t pay attention to anything, except your stud of a professor glaring at Hyunjin like he wanted him to disappear.

“Today, we’re going to be discussing next week’s test,” Changbin ground out, his teeth gritted so hard you could hear them scraping against one another. “Mister Hwang, do you remember what our first unit after last month’s test was?”

Hyunjin paused next to you, brows furrowed. How was he supposed to remember what you’d learned over a month ago, off the top of his head?

“No Professor, I don’t,” he said evenly. “If I could just check my notes-“

“No, you may not,” Changbin snarled, his eyes narrowed as he stared Hyunjin down. “Clearly, you weren’t paying close enough attention.”

“Professor!” you exclaimed, blood pounding. Why was he targeting Hyunjin all of a sudden? You thought he liked Hyunjin.

“What?” Changbin sneered. “Trying to protect your boyfriend?”

“Just don’t.” You rolled your eyes, looking away from him.

For the rest of the class, Changbin continued to pick on Hyunjin, calling on him for the hardest review questions, and actually laughing at him when he couldn’t remember.

Finally, when class was over, the two of you made to leave.

“Miss, please stay behind,” Changbin practically growled, gaze hot on your back.

“Will you be okay?” Hyunjin asked, glancing between the two of you.

You nodded. “Yeah, don’t worry about me. I’ll see you later.”

Hyunjin followed the rest of the class out, casting one last look back at you.

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

You stood behind your desk, staring at Changbin. He stared back at you, expression unreadable. Was he upset? Of course he was. He wasn’t very good at hiding that during class.

He walked to the door and slammed it shut, the force startling you. But when he clicked the lock in place, your chest seized up. What was he doing?

“Come here.” His voice was soft, yet you could hear him clearly. His face looked calm, but you could see the fire in his eyes as he gazed at you. Your breath caught in your throat as you wordlessly obeyed, coming to stand in front of him.

Was this really going to happen? Was he-

Before you could formulate a proper prediction, his lips were on yours. His hands fumbled at your waist with a desperation you didn’t expect, even in your dirtiest fantasies. He picked you up, grabbing your ass roughly as his plush lips forced your mouth open, sucking and biting with enough pressure that would leave marks in the morning.

“Fuck, I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” Changbin growled against you between kisses. Your hands slid into his hair, clinging to him as you kissed him back with equal strength.

“What took you so damn long?” you gasped, pressing your tongue into his mouth and rolling your hips against him.

He groaned, the sound low and guttural, before setting you on his desk as gently as he could. He slid a finger under your tank top strap, pushing it down slowly, his gaze devouring your skin rapturously.

“I’ve been so good, so in control,” he breathed as if you were torturing him, his mouth coming to land against the shell of your ear. You shivered at the sensation. “Until today, when you decided to bring that poor Hwang boy along with you. What are you, boyfriend and girlfriend?”

You shook your head quickly. “N-no, it’s casual,” your voice shook despite yourself. “We’ve just been hanging out.”

“You like that he’s willing to give you attention when I wouldn’t?” He leaned down, nipping at your shoulder and collarbone. “Has he fucked you?”

You moaned softly, closing your eyes. “No, of course not,” you whispered. “And even if he had, why would you give a shit? I made a move on you, and you fucking rejected me, twice!”

Changbin let go of you, stepping back. For the first time, he looked embarrassed. Good, as he should.

“I'm sorry, Princess.” He slid a hand down your arm, skating his fingers across your skin. “I thought I was making the right decision. But… I want you all to myself. Is that so bad?”

You glared at him. But no matter how long you tried to play hard to get, you knew damn well how this was going to end. You needed him too badly.

“Well, you better prove how much you want me, then.”

His mouth curled into a smirk, and your core dampened at the sight. “I thought you’d never ask.”

He pushed you back against his desk, shoving your legs apart, before tugging your denim shorts down your legs and ripping your panties clean in half.

“Changbin!” you gasped. Those were your nice panties, too.

“What? You won’t be needing them,” he smirked, holding them to his nose and inhaling a hungry breath, before tossing them away. “And from now on, you will call me Professor, not Changbin.”

You gaped at him for a moment, before you realized he was watching you expectantly.

“Y-yes… Professor,” you said weakly.

He smiled, kissing your cheek in an uncharacteristically tender way. “That’s my good girl. Now I’ll make you feel the best you’ve ever felt.”

He traveled down the length of your body, pressing kisses to your bare thighs as he went, admiring every inch of you. Your breaths came in short gasps as you laid in anticipation. You didn’t know much, but you were sure that Changbin was experienced when it came to sex.

As he gazed in appreciation at your soaked cunt, he tore his glasses off and set them on the desk, licking his lips. “Gonna need to get close and personal, huh Princess?”

Oh yeah, he was most definitely experienced.

But nothing could prepare you for the sensation of Changbin’s tongue against your center. He pressed his mouth flat against your clit, swiping his tongue up and down in broad strokes. He covered your entire pussy with his warm, wet mouth before sucking and licking in earnest.

“Holy shit, yes,” you gasped, your eyes widening as your hips jerked up against his movements.

He grabbed your waist to stop you, his tongue fucking in and out of your cunt as his lips pressed against the sensitive nerves above it. You moaned, your hand finding purchase in his hair as your vision sparked in and out, stars flashing before your eyes.

“Fuck, faster, please,” you begged, tugging his hair as you tried to pull him closer.

“What’s my name again, Princess?” he rasped against your core, his voice interrupted by his continued slurping.

“P-professor, please,” you whimpered, gazing at him with wide, pleading eyes.

“Fuck, how could I say no to you, Princess,” he snarled against you, yanking your legs open even further as his tongue moved impossibly faster, two of his fingers sliding into your pussy, adding even more squelching sounds to the mix.

The addition of his fingers nearly sent you spinning over the edge, your free hand gripping the side of his desk as your legs shook, your thighs trying to squeeze his head.

“Stay nice and spread for me, Angel,” he sucked hard on your clit, and you sobbed his name over and over, clutching at him like your life depended on it, your entire body vibrating.

“Professor, I-I’m gonna cum, please let me cum!” you begged, squeezing your eyes shut as you ground your hips up against him, this time Changbin allowing you.

“Cum for me, Princess, let me hear you,” Changbin ordered, pressing his tongue in just the right way against your throbbing pussy.

With a strangled cry, you rode out your orgasm against his mouth and fingers as he thrusted them in harder and harder, working you through your release as you crested the peak and came tumbling over, your whole body falling onto the desk in a trembling, sobbing mess.

“Was that good enough for you, Princess?” Changbin licked his lips as he gazed at you smugly, coming to his feet and gazing down at you.

You rolled your eyes, standing up to meet his eyes properly. “It was amazing, Professor,” you murmured against his lips, before kissing him forcefully. The taste of you lingered on his lips.

He kissed you back hungrily, his fingers traveling back between your legs to rub your clit gently, his tongue slipping into your mouth. You licked his bottom lip, grinding against his fingers as you moaned into him.

“Let me return the favor,” you whispered, pushing him against the desk this time, before kneeling in front of him.

“Let’s just hope you’re better with your mouth than you are at math,” Changbin teased. But you could see the desire flaming in his gaze as he caressed your hair with a rough hand, fully pushing you down onto the floor.

“You don’t have to worry about that, Professor,” you said sweetly, and he groaned, eyes flickering shut.

“No more dawdling Angel, open up.”

You unzipped his black work pants, tugging them down to his knees. Even with his dark gray boxers on, you could tell he was huge, and already hard. Pulling his underwear off, his cock sprang free, angry and red, leaking precum.

Your eyes widened, and Changbin kicked his pants to the side, smirking down at you.

“Big enough for you, Princess?”

“Perfect, Professor,” you breathed, gripping the base with one hand.

“Ah shit,” Changbin gritted his teeth, his hand already tangled in your hair. “Don’t make me wait too long, Princess. I’ve already been waiting for months.”

You giggled softly, sticking your tongue out and kitten licking the pretty pink tip. He was quite thick, so thick that your hand could barely fit around him. He was about seven inches long, with a pretty vein running along the right side. Your core throbbed at the sight, imagining how well he would fill you up.

“Fuck,” he snarled, thrusting into your hand impatiently, a bead of precum dribbling onto your skin. “Are you asking me to punish you, Princess?”

You felt your core clench at his words, and you almost hoped he would just flip you over and spank you for disobeying him.

But that could happen later. Instead, you slid his entire length into your mouth, taking him so deep your nose hit his hips. Coarse brown hair tickled your face, and you shut your eyes.

“Holy-“ Changbin choked out as you began sucking hard and fast, using your hand to rub the base where your mouth couldn’t reach. Your saliva instantly became sloppy, running down his cock and onto his waist.

“Oh fuck yeah, just like that,” he grunted, tugging your hair roughly as he thrust his hips against you, driving his cock further into your mouth. “I bet you just love being my little cockslut, don’t you Princess? You like me using you like this.”

“Mm,” you moaned, sending vibrations up his cock. He shuddered at the sensation, his huge, muscular legs flexing next to you. One of your hands gripped his thigh, the other squeezing his taut ass as you fucked your mouth up and down on him so he didn’t even have to move.

“Oh shit, you do know what you’re doing, don’t you, Slut?” He ran his hand through your hair, and you felt a tinge of pride shoot through you. A thin line of tears dotted your lash line and your jaw hurt, but you didn’t care. He was impressed with you, and that was all that mattered.

“Only for you, Professor,” you gasped as you took a quick breath, before sliding him back into your mouth. Your hands moved to cup his balls, and he growled, loud and animalistic, against you.

“Fuck Angel, you’re such a good girl for your professor, aren’t you?” he moaned, pulling your hair into two makeshift ponytails as he started fucking against you in earnest.

You started to choke on his harsh ministrations, but you didn’t want him to stop. Your core was so wet, arousal was dripping onto the ground.

“I’m gonna cum, Princess,” Changbin growled, as his hips stilled. “But I don’t want to cum in your mouth. I want to breed that little pussy of yours. How does that sound?”

“I-it sounds amazing, Professor,” you breathed as you pulled his rock-hard cock out of your mouth.

He grinned, yanking you into another bruising kiss. “That’s my good little Cockslut,” he murmured, picking you up and setting you back on the desk. “This is exactly how I imagined fucking you for the first time. You look so beautiful lying there, all wet and ready for me.”

You whimpered softly, shooting a seductively innocent look at him.

“Fuck, do you know what you do to me, Angel?” He closed his eyes, his body trembling at the sight before him. “Even better than my imagination.”

“You’ve thought about me, Professor?” you said faux-shyly, grabbing his hand and placing it against your core.

“Of course I have, Princess,” Changbin chuckled, opening his eyes again as his fingers roamed over your clit gently. You shivered at his touch. “Who wouldn’t think about ruining a perfect girl like you?”

“I'm not a virgin, Professor,” you pointed out.

“I know, but you’re perfect,” he responded, stepping closer. “Just look at you.”

“Professor?” you asked softly, gazing at him. “Can I ask just one thing?”

“Anything.”

“Can you take your shirt off?”

Changbin’s eyes flickered in amusement. “Do you like my body, Princess?”

You nodded vigorously. “I love your body. I think about it all the time.”

“I like the sound of that,” he murmured, leaning over and pressing harsh kisses against your neck. “What do you think about?”

“Fuck me, then I’ll tell you,” you breathed against him, starting to undo his shirt buttons.

He tugged the shirt over his head hurriedly, before coming to hover over you again, those perfect, muscular arms of your dreams caging you in. You whimpered at the sensation alone, pulling him closer to you so you could grab his cock, stroking him a few times.

“Fuck yes, Princess,” Changbin choked out, before lining himself up outside of your core. “I need to be inside you right now.”

“I need you inside me too, Professor,” you begged, moving your hips back and forth against his hard cock, wet squelching sounds ensuing as his cock rubbed through your slit. You threw your head back at the overwhelming sensation, moaning into his shoulder.

“Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he pulled your face up and kissed you once. Then, screwing up his eyes, he slid his entire cock into you in one harsh thrust.

“O-oh shit!” you cried, eyes widening and hands coming to grab his broad shoulders. He filled you perfectly, his girth stretching you deliciously, that vein rubbing against your walls just right. “Fuck Professor, you feel so good inside me.”

“God, you feel heavenly Princess,” he croaked, his voice hoarse. “Can I move? Please, tell me I can move.”

“Please move, now,” you gasped, fingernails digging into his back. “Don't be gentle with me, Professor. I can take it.”

“Yeah? We’ll see about that, Angel.” Before you could say anything else, he pulled all the way out, leaving you feeling incredibly empty, before thrusting back in with all his strength.

You squealed, fingers scrambling for purchase against him, as he pounded in and out of your tight, wet pussy over and over, filthy noises filling the classroom.

You whimpered against his neck, pressing harsh kisses against him as he thrusted in and out, balls slapping your pussy as he went harder and faster. His cock slammed against the spongy part inside of you, causing you to cry out and clench around him.

“Ah shit, Princess, ease up a bit!” he grunted, nipping your neck as his hips stuttered against yours.

“Y-you just feel so good,” you sobbed. “Please fuck me harder, don’t stop, please, Professor.”

Changbin listened, continuing to hit that sensitive spot over and over again until you were a babbling mess, unable to say anything except “Professor”.

“Fuck baby, can you stand?” Changbin demanded into your ear.

“Y-yes Professor,” you breathed, and before you could stop him, he was carrying you over to the chalkboard, and setting you down, so your face was towards the board, ass presented to him.

“Well shit, don't you look like a treat,” he whispered, slapping your ass with a calloused hand, before trapping you between his arms once more, his mouth against your neck.

You gasped at the stinging sensation of his hand against your skin, but it wasn't fully because of the pain. Him slapping you felt good. What did you have to do for him to do it again?

His fingers traveled between your legs again, feeling the dripping wetness that gathered there. You felt him smirk against you.

“Did my Princess like it when I spanked her? Does she like it when she gets punished?”

You nodded vigorously, closing your eyes. Was he going to think you were disgusting for liking something so violent?

Changbin started chuckling, and you glanced back at him. Did he find this funny?

“I might have underestimated you, Sweetheart,” his hands traveled up to your breasts and squeezed, making you squeal. “I guess you were right. You’re more of a whore than I thought.”

“N-no Professor, I’m a good girl,” you gasped, rubbing your ass against him as you begged for him to hit you again. “I just need you so bad, please.”

“You want me to hit you again?” Changbin snickered. “Okay, I can hit you again. Anything for my princess.”

He stepped away from you, leaving your skin cold. You missed his hulking presence warming you, his huge arms caging your body.

You watched with wide eyes as he stepped back to his desk and picked something up. What was he doing? He couldn’t leave you hanging like this.

But when you saw what he had in his hand, you knew he very much was not leaving you hanging. He was just getting started.

“A ruler?” you said softly, staring at the wood strip in his hand. Your core pulsed at the sight, causing more arousal to slide down your thigh. Fuck, you wanted it.

“You said you wanted to get slapped, didn’t you, Princess?” he challenged.

You nodded, trying to hide your desire. If Changbin saw how much you needed this, he might deny you.

“Yes, Professor,” you responded, not moving from your position at the chalkboard.

“Good, Angel,” he approached you with a satisfied grin on his face. “So, are you ready for your test?”

“Test?!” you squeaked. You hadn’t expected that. You’d hoped he would just slap you with the ruler a few times, then fuck you silly.

“You’re going to have a math test in a few weeks, aren’t you?” He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you want me to tutor you still?”

You nodded furiously. You would fail without him.

“Well, consider this our first session.” He came to stand behind you, running the ruler up and down your thigh a few times.

You shivered despite yourself. You would do anything he wanted at this point.

“So, answer this problem, Princess. The axes of two right circular cylinders of radius A intersect at a right angle. Find the volume of the solid of intersection of the cylinders.”

You gasped at him, speechless. You had no idea what any of that meant. Solid of intersection? You were an English major, for god’s sake!

“I-I don’t know Professor!” you whispered, body quivering as you waited for his response.

Changbin tutted quietly, pacing back and forth behind you. You tried to watch him, but he kept going in and out of your line of sight.

“What a shame.” His voice was dangerously low.

Suddenly, the ruler came slashing through the air, landing across the center of your ass. You let out a loud gasp, covering your mouth before you could curse or yell.

“Chang- Professor, what the hell?” you exclaimed, whipping around to face him.

“Did that stir up any potential answers?” Changbin said smoothly, ignoring your protest. “Please turn back around, Angel. We're not done yet.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but you caught that steely look in his eyes, and obeyed.

“Well?” he prompted. “Anything?”

“N-no, Professor,” you said meekly. “We haven’t learned anything half that difficult yet.”

This time, as the ruler made contact with your ass again, you were prepared. You bit your lip so hard it almost drew blood, but you had to admit, it felt… nice. The stinging sensation it left after the pain was gone was incredible.

“Fine, if you can't come up with even a guess, how about this. What is the mathematical perception of the gradient said to be?”

You paused, thinking the question over. You knew Changbin had talked about this in a lesson at some point, but it had been a while ago…

“Is it tangent?” you said with a little smile. You knew the answer was wrong but… you also didn't mind.

“I’m sorry, Princess,” Changbin grinned, and the stinging pain of the ruler raced across your skin.

You let out a stifled moan, squeezing your eyes shut as hard as you could. Oh god, did Changbin hear that? He was going to think you were such a whore.

Changbin set the ruler down on his desk and slid a hand around your waist, breaths coming hard and fast against your neck. You whimpered softly, unable to look back at him.

“I knew you liked that, you little Pain Slut,” he snarled into your ear, nipping the lobe. “You're my little Pain Slut, aren’t you?”

“Y-yes, only yours!” you exclaimed. “P-please Professor, fuck me again.”

“Mm, you're just insatiable aren’t you?” he snickered, his hand coming down onto your ass cheek, sharp and hard. “Now say thank you, Professor.”

You cried out, your core soaking wet. “Th-thank you Professor!” You forced out through the blinding pleasure.

His hand came down on your other cheek. “Again.”

“Thank you, Professor!” you moaned, turning your face to him and pressing your lips against his.

He didn't pull away, as the hand he used to spank you wound around your leg, lifting it up so your body was still facing the chalkboard, but your lips were attached to his.

“I’m gonna fuck you like this now, Angel, down and dirty. I’ll bet you like it like this, don't you? Seducing your poor professor, and letting him have his way with you in his classroom. That's exactly what you wanted, wasn't it?”

“No, I didn't mean to seduce you,” you mumbled against his mouth, as he positioned his hard, heavy cock outside your entrance. “You're just so hot and smart, and I wanted you so bad. But you kept rejecting me so I gave up, remember?”

“How do I know that little boyfriend wasn't just part of your plan to get me to change my mind?” Changbin challenged, finally breaking the kiss.

“Well, if it was, it worked, didn't it?” You teased him. “Now are you going to fuck me or not?”

Changbin growled deep in his throat, thrusting his hips slowly against you, running his cock through your wet folds. “I’ll fuck you when I’m ready to fuck you, Princess. Not sure you deserve it, with all the stunts you’ve pulled. And you didn't even get that easy math problem right.”

You giggled softly. “If I get it right, will you fuck me properly? Nice and rough?”

He paused, like he was pondering the question. “Sure, Angel. What’s the right answer?”

You turned around, pressing your lips against his ear gently. You watched in satisfaction as he shivered. Thank god he was holding your leg up, or you would be numb by now. “It’s the slope,” you whispered to him, lips curling in a smile. You knew you were right.

“Mm, you knew the right answer the whole time, didnt you, Slut?” Changbin shook his head at you, a hungry glint in his eyes. “But you were a good girl, listening to your Professor so well. So I guess you get a reward.”

“Yes please, Professor.” You immediately started begging at the prospect of his cock inside of you. “Please fuck me now.”

“It takes a lot of self control to stay away from you,” Changbin groaned. “Self control that I clearly do not have.”

This time, he thrusted into you nice and slow, one inch at a time. You gasped loudly as he shoved you up against the chalkboard, still holding your leg up, as he began pounding in and out of you mercilessly.

“Fuck, this pussy was made for me, Angel,” he hissed into your hair, breathing deeply as he did so. “So tight and wet, squeezing me perfectly. You hear that? This pussy is all mine.”

“Yes, it’s all yours,” you wailed, fucking your hips back against his, forcing his cock to impale you to the hilt. “You feel so good inside of me, Professor.”

“Mm, hell yeah I do baby.” His huge arm wrapped all the way around your waist, trapping you entirely as he hammered in and out, the lewd sounds of his length thrusting turning you on even more.

“Fuck, Professor please touch me!” you begged, grabbing his arm that was holding your leg up and sliding it towards your clit.

“You’re such a greedy little girl, aren’t you?” he sneered, pressing rough kisses up and down your collarbone, sucking harsh bruises along your soft skin. “I can’t deny you though, can I?”

His fingers slid over your sensitive nerves and rubbed in rushed, frantic circles as his hips pounded against yours, causing the entire chalkboard to shake and rattle.

“O-oh yes Professor just like that,” you panted, your legs nearly failing as he turned your entire body to jelly.

“Don't give up on me now, Princess,” Changbin warned as he spun you around and picked you up, not removing his cock from your throbbing pussy. “You don’t cum until I do, you hear?”

“Of course, Professor,” you whimpered helplessly, the new position hitting spots inside of you you hadn’t known even existed. “Please go harder!”

“Just for you, baby,” Changbin ground out, and he started bouncing you up and down on his huge length.

The vein on his cock slid against your nerves addictively as you wrapped your shaking legs around his waist, clinging to his beefy arms desperately. Your core throbbed as you tried to be a good girl and hold your orgasm back, but it was coming.

“Please Professor, let me cum!” you pleaded, pressing kisses up and down his huge pecs, sobbing into his chest. “I’m so close, I’ve been so good!”

Changbin grunted against you as he bullied his cock deeper and deeper into your cunt, hitting your g-spot over and over while you pleaded incoherently to please, please let you cum.

“Shit, okay, cum for me baby,” he hissed.

You didn't need to be asked twice. Your hips shook against him so violently you thought you were going to pass out. Stars blinked in and out of your vision as you cried, “Professor, please!” once, your pussy clenching around his cock like a vice, as he pounded his cock infinitely faster. His fingers pressed against your clit, and you were done for. You exploded around him in a puddle of whimpers and moans, clutching onto him for dear life.

“Holy shit baby, you’re so fucking hot,” Changbin panted, squeezing his eyes shut, his thrusts becoming more jerky and unstable. “I’m so fuckin’ close, Princess, gonna cum inside that slutty little pussy of yours, yeah?”

“Oh fuck, please give me your cum Professor!” you begged, moving your hips in time with his. “Want you to breed me like the good girl I am!”

“Fuck Angel, you really want it?” Changbin hissed, his hips stuttering as his lips smashed up against yours again. “You wanna feel my hot cum inside you?”

“Yes Professor, please, I need it,” you breathed against his mouth, biting his bottom lip and sucking it into your mouth.

Changbin thrusted sloppily in and out a few more times, his breaths stilted and hoarse, before halting entirely inside of you. You felt his warm cum fill your pussy, ropes and ropes of hot, sticky liquid, and you let out a shaky moan, closing your eyes at the sensation.

As he was about to put you down and pull out, you shook your head, gripping his arms.

“P-please, stay inside.” Your legs tightened around his waist. His softening cock felt so good, keeping his warm cum inside you. You didn’t want him to let go, not yet.

“You like me cockwarming you, Princess?” Changbin’s cock stiffened at your actions, and you nodded.

“You feel so good inside of me,” you sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“I bet I do,” he said cockily, and you slapped his arm.

“Way to ruin the moment, Changbin,” you glared.

He laughed, finally letting go of you and setting you back on the ground.

“I'm kidding, baby.” He pressed his lips against yours, much more tender this time. You melted against him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close.

“I like the confidence.” You giggled against his lips, before breaking apart. “I should probably go. I've got another class in an hour, and I don’t want to walk in looking like this.”

“I wouldn't want that either,” Changbin observed. “You might get dress-coded. Or arrested.”

When you were both dressed and semi-cleaned up, you waved goodbye to Changbin.

Changbin waved back, a little smirk on that handsome face of his.

“So, we on for another study session tonight?”

You smirked, biting your bottom lip before replying: “Yes, Professor.”

laska's note — wow, this one shot took me forever to finally finish! but i wanted it to be perfect you y'all, so i spent a long time figuring out the plot and exactly how i wanted everything to go. i really hope you enjoyed it, because i'm kinda proud of how this turned out. i'm sorry for the slow ass updates, but again it's just supposed to be for fun! hopefully i'll get some more content out soon. leave any comments about what you liked, i love reading them! until next time... 😏💋

#stray kids #skz stay #skz smut #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz female oc #skz scenarios #skz oneshots #skz x female reader #skz #stray kids smut #changbin x reader #seo changbin #changbin smau #changbin x female reader #changbin smut #skz changbin

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gunnerfc · 7 months

Text

One More Chance | Alanna Kennedy x Media!Reader (18+ ish)

Summary: You are a reporter for the upcoming Manchester derby and end up interviewing Alanna, your ex-girlfriend, after the match. It’s the first time you’ve seen her since the breakup and it brings back memories for the both of you.

Warnings: there are allusions to smut and a mention of masturbation but I don’t describe anything but still gave it the mature rating just in case! [angst with a happy ending]

WC: 3.3K

AN: this fic was kicking my ass and for no reason 💀😵‍💫 but to the anon that requested, I hope you enjoy!

Here you were, sitting in the stands watching Manchester City versus Manchester United in the rain. You loved your job, you got to report and interview players for one of the sports you loved watching, and in some cases, you got to travel the world for different games. However, being here in Machester meant the possibility of seeing your ex-girlfriend, Alanna, for the first time since she broke up with you even higher.

You had gone out of your way to avoid her; she had broken your heart, but a small part of you still loved her. Seeing her out on the pitch, playing the sport she loved brought back all the memories of when you would come to support her when you were dating. The rain didn’t make things better, you were wet and uncomfortable and the game still had fifteen minutes left of regulation.

Without realizing it, your eyes naturally found the tall Australian. You watched as she helped the defense keep City’s one-to-zero lead over their rivals, yelling out instructions to the midfield whenever a United player was on the ball. The rain might have been making things worse for you but you enjoyed seeing Alanna playing in the rain, even if you were supposed to be mad at her.

You watched the clock tick down, United was never quite able to capitalize on any of their chances. That is until the eighty-ninth minute when they broke through the high back line of City, but before a shot could be taken, Alanna tackled the ball away, sending it out for a corner. You subconsciously raised your fists with a quiet “yes!” as the City supporters cheered as Alanna’s teammates gave her a quick high-five as they set up to defend the corner.

The ball was delivered into the box perfectly but no one was able to head it into the back of the net before Khiara collected it. The City supporters cheered on their goalkeeper for keeping the ball out of the net to secure the win. Once the ball was back in play, you watched the fourth official hold up their sign signally one minute of stoppage time. You took a deep sigh as you gathered your things to move down to the field for the post-match interview, silently praying that it would be anyone but Alanna that you had to interview.

You watched the last few seconds of the game from the sidelines as your camera team set up near the home bench. The ref blew her whistle after the minute of stoppage time had passed, making Manchester blue. The City players celebrated on the pitch before shaking hands with their opponents and thanking the fans who came to watch. You went over the different questions you wrote in your notes app during the match, not paying attention to who was walking in your direction.

“Y/N, ready to go,” one of your team members asked from behind the camera just as you felt a familiar presence next to you. You didn’t have to look up to know the player that walked over was Alanna.

You cursed under your breath before you looked up to meet her eyes, neither of you made an effort to speak to the other before you heard your team count down to one. You took a deep breath before introducing yourself and Alanna to the camera before turning your body to face her.

Alanna’s eyes were locked on you the entire time you spoke, an arrogant smirk gracing her features as the interview went on. She knew you well enough to know what you were feeling and she’d be lying if seeing you again wasn’t affecting her. Alanna hated breaking up with you but at the time she thought it was the best thing she could have done for the two of you.

“Thank you for your time and congrats on the win,” you offered a fake smile to the camera and Alanna before your team signaled the camera was off.

You wanted to hurry up and get back to your hotel out of the rain and away from the Aussie. Before you could step away from the blonde, her hand reached out to wrap around your wrist to keep you close. You huffed in annoyance as you waited for her to speak, not wanting to hear what she had to say right now. Alanna didn’t give you any closure when she ended the relationship and even though you tried to move on, a part of you did want to hear what she had to say.

“Do you have a few minutes, please, y/n/n,” Alanna mumbled where only you could hear her, your nickname that she gave you falling from her lips effortlessly. You felt your face heat up despite the cold weather conditions hearing the pet name, you were more affected by her than you wanted to believe.

“No, not really,” if you continued to stand here in the rain with the blonde, you were sure someone in the crowd would pick up on it and there would be rumors circulating the internet before you could leave the grounds.

You pulled out of grasp and made your way to the exit with your team, putting as much distance as possible between you and Alanna. The car ride back to the hotel was silent, all of you were over being in the rain and were ready to shower before heading to bed. The whole ride back, your mind replayed some of your best memories with Alanna and you had to fight back tears.

Once you were back at the hotel, you quickly said goodnight to your team before sliding the key card into your door. You dropped all your things on the desk in the room before dropping into the desk chair, tiredness hitting from the long and wet day you had. You let out a small sigh as you rid yourself of the damp clothes and shoes before gathering pajamas to change into after your shower.

In the bathroom, you let the water heat up as you got ready to take a shower. You groaned when the warm water hit your skin, instantly warming you up. You did your shower routine pretty quickly, opting to let the water flow over your body once you were done. You stood under the showerhead with your head tilted back slightly as your thoughts were filled with the intimate moments with Alanna.

You replayed them in your head, each memory a bit dirtier than the last. Your breathing picked up slightly as your hands traced up and down your body. The warm water hit your body as you trailed a hand downward, needing to do something to get rid of the thoughts you were having about your ex-girlfriend.

A few moments later you turned the water off once it became colder and quickly exited the shower to find your towel. You got dressed and did your nighttime routine before leaving the bathroom, ready to fall asleep for the night. You hooked your phone up to the charger on your bedside table before hitting the lights, the only light illuminating the room was the TV.

Laying in bed, you tossed and turned trying to get comfortable but after twenty minutes it was no use. No matter how laid, nothing was comfortable enough to go to sleep. You huffed as you turned to your back, having an intense staring contest with the ceiling. You were ready to get out of Manchester and the quicker you fell asleep, the quicker that could happen. But it didn’t look like luck was on your side after about an hour and a half of not being able to fall asleep.

Your phone on the nightstand dinged with a text notification and you knew exactly who was texting you at this hour. You fought with yourself about whether you should check if you were right or if you should leave it until the morning. Your nosiness won out as you rolled over to turn your phone over, the bright light lighting up most of the room.

With squinted eyes, you saw that you were right. Alanna’s name at the bottom of your screen under the message app staring back at you waiting for a response.

alanna: are you up?

You debated on opening the message, knowing she would be able to see if you read her message. She hadn’t left your mind all day and now here she was at 1 AM asking if you were awake. You knew being in the same city again would make getting over her harder but you didn’t see yourself moving on anytime soon if you were honest.

You sighed as you clicked on the message, opening the app to send her a response.

you: what do you want alanna?

alanna: I need to see you, how far are you

You bit your lip as she replied almost immediately. You could tell her the truth, you weren’t that far from her apartment, or you could lie and tell her that you were nowhere near her and you wouldn't be able to see her.

You went with your heart instead of your brain as you texted her the name of the hotel and its address. You watched as she typed, nerves filling your body as you waited for what she had to say.

alanna: I’ll be there in five mins. be ready

Your eyes widen slightly at her message, you didn’t think she would actually come to get you. You quickly threw the hotel comforter off your body as you jumped up from the bed. You opted to just stay in the sweatpants and t-shirt you were already in but you stopped in your tracks when you realized the baggy shirt you were wearing was Alanna’s. You didn’t have time to try and change when your phone dinged again, Alanna’s text reading she was pulling into the parking lot.

You slipped your shoes on and grabbed your phone along with your hotel key before heading out the door. The entire elevator ride to the lobby you held your breath, you were nervous about being alone with Alanna again, especially after how affected you were at the game.

You spotted the blonde’s car the moment you stepped outside and quickly made your way to the passenger side. You took a deep breath before opening the door and getting in the car, Alanna already looking in your direction.

Neither of you spoke right away, too busy taking each other in. It had been almost a year since you’d seen each other in person and a year apart had been the longest you had ever been apart since you met each other a few years ago.

“Hi,” you both mumbled at the same time earning a small laugh from the both of you.

“I’m sorry for texting so late, I just figured you'd still be awake,” Alanna spoke as she backed out of the parking spot to head toward her apartment building.

“I was, I couldn’t sleep,” you muttered as you kept your eyes on the blonde. You took in her features for the first time in a year, not that you could forget just how good she looked.

“I remember you’re not the biggest fan of hotels,” Alanna said as she sent you a small smile. The blonde was right, you hated sleeping in any bed that wasn’t your own. It seemed like a small thing to remember but you felt your face heat up at the fact she remembered these little things about you.

You responded with a light ‘mhm’ as you watched the dark city pass by. The drive back to Alanna’s apartment was a familiar one and you knew it by heart. The drive back didn’t help in forgetting things that happened in your relationship, each time you passed a place you and Alanna went to on a date, it was all you could think about.

Neither of you spoke the rest of the way there, but both of you were nervous. Your breathing was heavy and Alanna could feel her palms grow sweatier. She didn’t think you would hear her out at this time of day but she was going to take any chance you gave her. The Aussie would be lying if she said she didn’t miss you or regret breaking up with you.

After arriving at the familiar apartment building, you took the elevator in silence, neither of you were sure what to say just yet. Alanna led you down the hallway and every memory you had of the two of you stumbling down the hallway as your lips moved against each other came rushing back. You were upset at the blonde but you needed to feel her lips on yours again.

You waited outside Alanna’s door as she unlocked it, gesturing for you to enter first. Looking around her apartment, you could tell not much as changed, just the little touches of you were gone. You frowned at all the pictures of the two of you not being up anymore, even though you understood why.

“Do you want something to drink or anything,” Alanna called out from the kitchen as you took a seat on her couch.

“Water would be nice,” you yelled back, uncertainty filling your body as you debated on trying to make yourself feel at home or keeping to yourself.

Alanna joined you after a minute, handing you a glass of water as she moved passed you. You mumbled a quiet “thanks” as she took a seat a few inches from you. She knew she should give you some space, but she couldn’t help needing to be close to you again.

“I wanted to explain everything, which I know I should have done a year ago but I couldn't bring myself to do it. Which I know isn’t fair to you,” Alanna rushed out before you could say anything. You didn’t try to interrupt her, you knew once she started talking about something she needed to get all her thoughts out before you should respond.

You slowly nodded your head as you took her words in, waiting for her to continue. Alanna took a deep breath before she spoke again, “I was worried about people finding out about us being together.” You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, when you went over every possible reason for Alanna breaking up with you, this was not what you were expecting.

Alanna raised her hand slightly as you opened your mouth, telling you to let her finish. “I wasn’t worried about people’s opinions, that doesn’t matter to me. I was worried because I didnt want it to mess up your job, you had just started getting big opportunities and I didnt want people to think it was because you were dating a player. I didn’t want them to question your talents or whether or not you deserved to get those jobs because of your personal life,” the blonde explained as she fiddled with her fingers.

You kept your gaze locked on her side profile as she refused to meet your eyes. Her reasoning was much sweeter than the ones you came up with when you were angry at her a year ago. “You deserved to get those jobs because of your skills, not because of me and I thought breaking up with you would be easier,” she finished as she finally turned to look at you.

“I wish you would have just talked to me, Alanna. I would have understood where you were coming from and we could have talked about it a year ago before all of this,” you sighed. You understood the defender’s explanation but that doesn’t change the fact that you still got your heart broken.

“I know that, but I panicked! I didn’t mean to hurt you, I really didn’t,” Alanna sniffled, you could see in her eyes how much this hurt her as well.

You didn’t respond for a moment as you debated your words, not sure what you wanted to say. You still loved her, nothing would change that and you were glad the breakup wasn’t because of unfaithfulness or anything of that nature. Though, you weren’t sure if you were willing to just jump back into a relationship with the defender.

“I’m glad you told me the truth, even if it was a year later,” you joked, hoping to lighten the mood just a bit. Alanna laughed lightly at your words as she nodded softly.

“I would have listened then had you told me how you were feeling, I get where you’re coming from. I think it’s sweet how much you care about my career, but what’s the point if I can’t be with the person I’m in love with,” you declare, your voice strong and unwavering as you slide closer to Alanna.

You took her hands in yours and held them tightly as you kept speaking. “I love you, that hasn't changed in a year and I don't think it ever will. But I don't know if I can just jump back into a relationship if I don't know if you won't talk to me about something before making these big decisions,” you finished as you leaned closer to the Aussie.

“I get that,” Alanna started as she squeezed your hands slightly, “I really do.” Alanna tilted her head up some to give your forehead a small kiss before leaning back some. The blonde used to always give you forehead kisses randomly throughout the day and it used to always make you feel so loved.

“Maybe we start over,” you offered, you weren’t giving up on your relationship, not when you were still in love with her.

“I’d like that,” the blonde spoke with a content sigh but you could tell she wanted to say more.

“But what,” you asked with furrowed brows.

“But, I really want to kiss you right now,” the blonde spoke as her eyes dropped to your lips. You subconsciously liked your eyes as you watched her eyes lock on your lips.

You didn’t respond, instead, you leaned in meeting her lips. Your mouth moved against hers slowly, neither of you wanted to overdo it. A year without kissing her was hell and you missed having her lips on yours.

The kiss would have kept going but a yawn escaped from your lips, breaking the two of you apart. Alanna laughed lightly as you moved one of your hands to cover your mouth, the other hitting her arm lightly.

“What time do you have to leave tomorrow,” Alanna asked as she looked at her phone to check the time.

“We were gonna stay an extra day to make up for the shitty weather so everyone else could explore Manchester,” you said before another yawn hit. You were exhausted and the long day you had was catching up to you.

“You could stay here then, you’d actually get some sleep that way,” Alanna shrugged, knowing that if you went back to the hotel, there was no way you would get a good night’s rest.

“You don’t mind,” you asked, not wanting to overstep.

Alanna rolled her eyes before standing from the couch, offering her hand to pull you up. You let the blonde pull you to her room before you both got under the covers. Without thinking about it, you cuddled into her side, resting your head on her chest as one of her hands wrapped around your shoulders.

“Goodnight, Lani,” you mumbled as sleep quickly took over and you were out.

Alanna kissed your forehead before closing her eyes with a small smile on her face. She was glad she was able to explain and that you were willing to give her one more chance. She wasn’t going to mess this one up.

#woso x reader #auswnt x reader #matildas x reader #man city women x reader #alanna kennedy x reader #alanna kennedy

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perfectlyoongi · 3 months

Text

PAWNS IN THE COSMOS

ㅤ↬┊synopsis ... namjoon was in love with you since the first day he saw you, but letting your magic paralize him, he never had the courage to admit it to you – that is, until he found out that you were his soulmate.

ㅤ⚘.fandom ... bts. ㅤㅤಇ.ft. ... namjoon x gn!reader. ㅤ⚘.genre ... long-shot. ㅤㅤಇ.content ... soulmate!au, college!au, fluff, angst, using of they/them prns for reader at the start. ㅤㅤಇ.word count ... 5.1k. ㅤ⚘.cole's note ... i originally wrote this for bts but posted for jjk but i regretted it so heres the original post <3 i hope u like it ♡

How is a person defined?

Of course we can delve into personality tangents and unique character traits that only each of us possesses in a perfect combination of stars and magic. However, this alone is not enough. A person is created by more than mere looks and personality; there are dreams, each person’s own ways, unique hearts that shine with specific colors conceived by each thought, each action, each desire.

A single personality is not enough to define a person – all the gods knew this. And, as such, a new system was created.

Numbers.

What more to define a person than the infinity of numbers that made up the universe?

All human beings were born marked with simple numbers that dictated their souls; from zero to infinity, passing through the infinities of decimals that each one had, the numbers managed to acquire a body in that new world.

Stuck on the back of their necks, hidden by occasional hair and various clothes, the numbers became something sacred in that society; not only was it something that defined a person, that made them unique, but they were also the main factor in relationships and connections. The thing is, bored with the eternity of cosmic lives, the gods liked to create small games that helped them in the static passage of time – and what more exciting than guiding the various lost souls to their better half?

A soulmate was something primordial.

Created long before the first star was born, soulmates roamed the world hand in hand, their stardust unique to each pair created by the various gods. They were essences without bodies, united only by cosmic dust that insisted on cradling them in the eternities of time and space in the universe. However, just star and cosmic dust was something monotonous, without any substance of its own, without a body of its own that made everything much easier to see, to be marveled at.

Thus, the first humans were created.

A connection that was only felt by the universe, beautified by the stars and constellations that they made their homes, was now something tangible, something that could be seen, something that could be admired. And, since then, relationships began to blossom in the world according to the seasons, making all the love that was felt to be the cause of all the misfortunes and happiness in the world.

Every year, small letters with a specific number and initials appeared on the bedside tables of thousands of people, a hint to eternal happiness appearing in black tones on a white background.

For years, humans followed their cards, creating happy and fulfilled lives for centuries, never once contesting the appearance of neither their cards nor their veracity – the gods commanded, the humans followed.

“Eighty-three million, two hundred and twenty thousand, six hundred and seventy-four point one hundred and ninety-three.”

“What?”

Hoseok placed his apple juice on the table and looked at his friend, intrigued by the numbers he recited so naturally.

“It’s their number.”

“Their?” Hoseok raised an eyebrow and let out a small pretentious smile, knowing perfectly well who Namjoon was talking about.

“Their. I saw it yesterday when they got off the bus. It was very brief, but I’m sure that was the number.”

“And what do you intend to do with this life-changing information?”

Namjoon looked at Hoseok for the first time since they sat at the bar table. A smile played on the brunette’s lips, his dark eyes shining with the possibilities that danced in his mind.

He leaned forward, his chest almost touching the plate with his sandwich and, in a whisper too low for such a noisy space, Namjoon spoke in a soft and quite convinced voice.

“Write down this number and compare it to the one on my card.”

“Did you receive your card?”

Hoseok’s question came out automatically, a trace of nervousness clinging to the various syllables, his dark eyes widening behind his sunglasses.

“Not yet,” Namjoon sighed and resumed his starting position, playing with some loose crumbs from his sandwich. “But I believe it’s coming soon. I don’t know how to explain it, but every time I look at them…”

The words that were going to come out of Namjoon died in his mouth without having a chance to see the light of day. Taken by a mystical force, a chance written by the cosmos, Namjoon raised his face at the exact moment you entered the bar.

You looked beautiful that day.

Favored by the beauty of that day, the sun’s rays painted your smile golden; your eyes shone with the light of new experiences, your words sounding as delicate as the breeze of that day.

You entered the bar without any worries, your laugh filling the space with the delicacy of its sound. You were with your group of friends, looking for a free table in that crowded bar for you to have lunch before your afternoon class. Your eyes scanned the compartment with some hope, a smile lingering on your lips after a joke from your best friend.

And then you noticed. In all that confusion, oblivious to your friends’ conversations, too focused on finding a place to sit, you saw Namjoon looking at you. Static, without any thought beyond his eyes, without any reaction when you approached him, your smile expanding with each step you took.

“Hello,” you stopped behind Hoseok, one of your hands resting on his chair as your eyes jumped from Namjoon to Hoseok. “Ready for the test?”

Hoseok put his hands on his head, ruffling some of his silky hair as he let out a small growl, which made you laugh. And what a laugh. What a melody sung by your lips that seemed to fill the entire bar, drowning out every sound that appeared there.

“I spent the night studying, but I couldn’t memorize anything,” Hoseok’s outburst was accompanied by a tired sigh, his body leaning back against the chair, making you let go of it. “I don’t think even a miracle could save me.”

“Think of it like this,” you walked to the side of the table, Namjoon and Hoseok on your sides, your group of friends in front of you waiting for you. “It’s about the Bible. Jesus will be with you.”

Hoseok gave you a small frown and picked up his apple juice again, giving Namjoon a little kick under the table.

“And you? Are you ready?” Namjoon spoke finally, holding his sandwich and taking a small bite as he waited for your response.

“What helps me is being able to take the Bible with me,” you confessed between smiles and winks. “But I’m confident. Our presentation actually went well.”

“The teacher liked it,” Namjoon set down his sandwich and looked at you. “I think we even make a good team.”

“And I wouldn’t give anything for you two,” you smiled as you gently ruffled Hoseok’s hair. “Well, I’m going now. See you later.”

Namjoon followed you with his gaze out of the bar, the way your body walked excitedly towards your friends, the way your smile didn’t leave your lips for a single second.

“Eighty-three million, two hundred and twenty thousand, six hundred and seventy-four point one hundred and ninety-three.”

Namjoon repeated the number again under his breath, his eyes still fixed on the bar door.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“I can’t believe the teacher gave us more work,” Namjoon grunted, storming into his room. “Where do you want to start?”

He placed his Bible on the desk, throwing his backpack onto the bed. Hoseok followed in his footsteps, throwing the book on the bed and placing the backpack on the floor, opening it immediately with a sigh.

“We can start with the document the teacher gave us…” Hoseok’s voice was full of doubts and uncertainties, his hands frantically searching his backpack for a notebook. “We can read it and go from there.”

Namjoon didn’t say anything.

Sitting down at the desk, he turned on his computer and waited a few moments until his desktop began to glow in shades of blue and silver. “You start with the document and I’ll look for which books we need to study.”

Hoseok nodded and, after making himself comfortable on his best friend’s bed, he began to dive into the waves of knowledge in the document, reading and rereading concepts and terms, looking for something in the various lines of ink that could help him in his new work.

Namjoon, in turn, opened the web page, typing a few words before spending minutes opening and closing tabs, desperately looking for help. Beside him, the Bible was open, several sheets of papers and memory aids reminding Namjoon which books he needed to highlight and look deeper into.

Shrouded in stories and theories, the two friends didn’t notice as the hours passed. Too focused on their work, taking some notes and highlighting the most important thing, Namjoon and Hoseok disconnected from the outside world, believing that, the sooner they finished that work, the sooner they would free themselves from the academic responsibilities that gave them so many headaches.

The sun was slowly setting.

From Namjoon’s bedroom window, the various street lamps began to shine with the certainty that a long night was approaching; cars and people retired to their homes at the end of a long day of work, and, in the sky, between the soft clouds and the vast dark blue, several stars made their way to the earth, telling in their death endless stories of past memories and lives lived.

Namjoon stretched out in his chair. Putting down the computer mouse for a moment and looking away from the screen for the first time since he got home, Namjoon felt tired, totally devastated by a complicated day in his life: the Classical Texts exam had gone wrong – no matter how many prayers were in the Bible, he knew that his grade would go down; the teacher, at the end of the exam, gave his students one last assignment in a week full of exams and presentations; and, to end the last ray of hope in Namjoon, that day had been another day in which he was unable to do anything other than admire you.

It had been almost two years, but Namjoon had simply withdrawn into a bubble of shyness that prevented him from functioning decently in front of you. He didn’t understand why, but you had a power over him, like a spell, an enchantment that prevented him from functioning normally in your presence. It all happened so fast, he didn’t even remember the first time he succumbed to your charms, but, once consumed by your unique, cosmic essence, he found himself trapped in a web of emotions that prevented him from leaving.

But now was not the time to dwell on you. Now Namjoon had an obligation to fulfill and, as much as he wanted to ignore it, he knew that his responsibility as a student had to be pleased.

“Do you want to order some food?”

Hoseok straightened up in bed, putting his pencil behind his ear, adjusting the sunglasses on his head. “I’m not very hungry…”

“But we need to eat,” Namjoon stood up with a small grunt, walking away from the desk and grabbing his cell phone. “I’m going to order some food and I’ll take the opportunity to call Jin and ask for his notes for tomorrow.”

Hoseok didn’t answer him.

With tired eyes and a yawn trapped in his mouth, Hoseok saw his best friend leaving the room, making the room plunge into serene silence.

Tired of studying, feeling a strong pain in his back, Hoseok fell onto the bed, taking out his cell phone and starting to explore the digital world while waiting for Namjoon to return.

Hoseok was freely lost among images and videos, reading loose sentences without any context, finding a bit of tranquillity in the chaos of others. Hoseok’s slender fingers moved across the screen with ease, clicking on images and links, allowing him to sink into a little peace before returning to work.

But no matter how involved he was in the digital world, that didn’t stop Hoseok from listening.

It was a faint, low sound, like the turning of a page. It was brief, lasting only a second, something too small to be noticed – but Hoseok noticed, Hoseok realized that something had happened, and when he sat back down on the bed and looked at Namjoon’s desk, he saw it.

A small, white card rested gently on the wooden surface. It was thin, almost invisible from Hoseok’s point of view, but those dark letters, that black that adorned the card left no room for doubt: Namjoon had just received his card.

Hoseok leaned forward, looking closely at the initials and numbers written on the card.

There was silence.

A dark silence took over Namjoon’s room, leaning into every corner, refusing to leave through the door that Namjoon had left open. The shadows in the room seemed thicker at that moment, gaining a bit of dimension when seen from the corner of Hoseok’s eye; it seemed like they were watching him, trying to keep Hoseok’s actions in their dark corners, silently judging everything Hoseok did, everything he thought.

But Hoseok continued to look at the card, memorizing the initials and numbers, repeating them in his mind over and over again. Until he heard Namjoon’s voice approaching the room and he let the shadows keep the secret he had just done.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Namjoon was at the bus stop patiently waiting. Letting the sun warm him through the bus stop window, Namjoon faced the road with a smile on his lips.

Seeing students and teachers walking up and down the street, hearing the happy birdsong and feeling the cool breeze of the day on his face, Namjoon couldn’t be happier at that moment. That day seemed as if the whole world had gained a new color, a new meaning, as if all the stars that made up the universe had arranged themselves especially to draw Namjoon’s path.

He was certain that in that day nothing would destroy his enthusiasm. Not when he held tightly to a small white card and waited patiently for a bus to arrive, for you to arrive.

It had been mere minutes since Namjoon arrived at the stop to see your bus arriving punctually at your building. Keeping all the enthusiasm he was feeling in a small box inside his heart, Namjoon approached you when you got off the platform, ready for another day of classes.

“Good morning!”

“Oh, good morning, Namjoon,” your smile painted constellations, illuminating the entire universe with a simple curve of affection and delicacy. “Were you waiting for me?”

“Eighty-three million, two hundred and twenty thousand, six hundred and seventy-four point one hundred and ninety-three.”

You stopped walking and looked seriously at your classmate.

Confused by why those numbers were recited so passionately, you waited for Namjoon to continue his reasoning. Looking closely at Namjoon, you couldn’t help but let out a small smile; there was something about his childish enthusiasm, his cosmic joy that made you feel the slightest bit comfortable.

“It’s your number, isn’t it?”

“And how do you know my number?” your smile had taken on a playful tone, not realizing where that conversation would lead you, or why he was having it with you at that moment. As such, and as always, you just waited.

“Because they gave me that number yesterday.”

Namjoon handed you the small card he kept in his hand. Curious about his words, you looked at that white piece of paper, seeing your number and initials in dark tones.

ㅤㅤY.N. 83220674,193

You remained silent for a moment while you assimilated all that information.

In reality, you hadn’t received your card yet, but you didn’t care. In so many years of life, you never had the need to get together with someone, to let the gods guide your destiny with a mere card – that didn’t mean you weren’t expecting it. You were never a romantic by nature, avoiding cliché films and closing the books when the couple began to express their eternal love for each other – that didn’t mean you didn’t want that magic for yourself.

The reality is that throughout your life you have had to worry about something more than the triviality that was love. From friendships to school, your entire life was made up of obstacles that prevented you from delving into the complex webs of romantic relationships that could have been.

But there it was. A card. Your number. Your initials. There was no denying it – Namjoon’s soulmate was you.

Still trapped in those complex numbers and the beautiful initials carved into the white of the card, your mind began to wander to a future that could exist, leaving you speechless, completely surrendered to the surprise of the event.

“You seem excited about that idea,” not knowing how to respond, not knowing how to act after that revelation, you tried to focus your attention on Namjoon, starting to walk into the building with your colleague always by your side.

“Just happy for the confirmation.”

“Confirmation?” You looked at Namjoon confused and he just smiled before opening the door to the building for you.

“I always knew it was you.”

You gave a small laugh that gently echoed through the interior of the building. “What made you so sure?”

“That’s what I felt.” Namjoon let a sigh escape him, his lips expanding more and more into the victorious smile he wore. “Since the first day I saw you.”

You looked curiously at Namjoon as you climbed the stairs to the second floor.

“I can’t explain it to you, but from the first day I saw you, I felt something inside me changed. It’s hard to explain, but it’s as if the forces of the universe were pulling me towards you. Many times, without meaning to, I was already looking at you and wondering how I could talk to you.”

Namjoon’s words traveled seamlessly to your ears, collecting all the celestial magic they could grab along the way. Namjoon’s confession appeared wrapped in the stardust of the sky that sheltered you, leaving you to smile shyly at your colleague’s frankness.

Could it be true? All the words Namjoon said seemed too whimsical to be real, his honesty appearing like a small butterfly on warmer days, flapping its wings and simplicity with the lightness of someone who didn’t care about what he said.

“Very well,” you said finally, opening the door to the classroom and giving Namjoon space to enter. “And what do you intend to do with this new information?”

“For starters,” smiled Namjoon, leaning against one of the desks, the one where you always sat, and putting his hands in his pants pockets, “I’m going to ask you out on a date.”

“What if I say no?”

You sat in your seat, placing your backpack on the table and looking at Namjoon with amusement. “I will invite you until you say yes.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You wouldn’t go as far as to say you were in love, but the truth was you felt something.

You would never think that agreeing to go out with Namjoon would bring you the avalanche of feelings that you started to feel. There was something about him. Something that moved you, that managed to reach your core and comfort your heart as if it were a blanket. You couldn’t explain what it was, you couldn’t explain what it was like, you just felt it. And it was something so unique and unusual that it consumed you every time you were with Namjoon.

Since the day you agreed to go out with him, your whole world seemed to have changed.

“Explain something to me,” Namjoon stretched as he sat in the chair. Leaning forward and resting his chin on his hand, he stared at you, eyes so bright and passionate that he made you feel important.

“What?”

“What do I need to do so I can be yours?”

You choked on the water. The words that Namjoon said hadn’t crossed your mind, taking you by surprise.

You coughed once, twice, three times, placed the glass of water on the table and looked at Namjoon, your eyes still shining with the tears that had formed seconds ago.

“What?”

“I just want to know,” his smile was infectious. Whenever Namjoon looked at you, he smiled, a smile that spread across his face and made him more beautiful, more brilliant, as if that curve of his lips were the only detail about him. “We have already gone on several dates. We already know each other well. What is missing?"

You stared at Namjoon.

In fact, you felt something every time you were with Namjoon, your heart growing warmer with each moment shared with him. But that something was indescribable, you couldn’t understand the nature of that something. What was it? Where did it come from? Why did it torment you so much every time you were with Namjoon?

Yes. You could ignore it. You should just let yourself lay in the comfort of that feeling, and allow yourself to enjoy a little of the tranquility that that feeling offered you. But there was something about that feeling, there was something that made you feel nervous. Maybe it was because you were happy and it had been years since you last felt so carefree and light; maybe it was because you couldn’t explain what you felt, the lack of words and descriptions leaving you delirious. You didn’t know exactly what it was. You just knew you weren’t ready.

“I’m waiting,” you let out a small smile, looking at the water in the glass and thinking deeply about that something attacking your heart. What was that?

“For a formal request?” Namjoon let out a small laugh, so beautiful and melodious that it made the authenticity of your smile change tones, the small line becoming more real with that laugh. “I can kneel here right now and ask you to be yours.”

“No,” now it was you who laughed, holding Namjoon’s hands when he made a move to get up. “Don’t be silly!”

“So what do you want? Tell me and I’ll give you anything.”

“My card.”

You whispered your confession a little nervously, letting your voice get lost in the university bar.

Namjoon looked at you, the smile that beautified him so much gently fading as he thought and repeated your words in his mind. Your card. Your card? Why were you waiting for something you already knew? What did you want to find in your white piece? Why was confirming a number so important to you? Didn’t you feel your connection? Didn’t you feel how your souls were interconnected for generations and eras, your essence existing on the same star before inhabiting the human bodies that held you back from expressing your true love?

“Why?”

Namjoon’s voice had changed tone. Before playful, sprinkled with passion and affection, it was now serious, monotonous, without any feeling attached to the intonation of the syllables.

“Just…” you continued to stare at the glass of water, too embarrassed by your whim, thinking that your request was a betrayal for Namjoon. “I just want to be sure.”

Namjoon looked at you without showing any emotion. His bright eyes were now opaque, focused on your figure, studying your posture; his lips were in a straight line, too tense from the conversation to be able to express a mere smile.

Finally, he took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes and putting his hands in his coat pockets.

“If that’s what you want, I’ll wait.”

Namjoon’s words gently lifted your chin, finally looking at him, seeing a small, shy smile on his lips, filled with a small sadness wrapped in understanding.

“Tell me your number.”

“Sixty-nine point zero, one, six, zero.”

“…six, zero,” Namjoon’s number was now saved on your cell phone. You were smiling, believing that that exchange of numbers could be the last drop to fill the glass of your doubts – it had to be him, you felt it.

Namjoon got up from his chair, smiling and offering you his hand.

You put your cell phone away and held Namjoon’s hand, feeling his warm, thin fingers intertwine with yours, gently pulling you out of the bar and taking you through the city’s flowery paths to your house.

Saying goodbye with a kiss on your forehead, Namjoon watched you enter your house, the smile he still wore being painted with love and complete devotion – oh, how he loved you.

You sighed when you entered the house. You were tired. Classes were becoming increasingly demanding and, with the semester almost over, the pressure only increased.

You placed your hands on your shoulders and pressed down hard as you walked to your room. Your back was burning, a fog of anxiety was clouding your mind, your feet were asking for a moment of rest.

You threw yourself onto the bed, leaving your backpack at the bedroom door. You were exhausted, you couldn’t even open your eyes. Ready to get some sleep before studying, you took your cell phone out of your pants pocket and placed it on the bedside table next to the white card.

A white card.

As if pinching you with electricity, the card woke you up to reality.

You quickly sat down on the bed, holding that piece of paper in your hands.

Finally the confirmation, finally the key to your happiness.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You abruptly pulled Hoseok into an empty room. After closing the door with some force, you faced your friend who looked at you confused and a little worried.

“Wha–”

“You should have told me.”

You cut Hoseok’s words without any difficulty, throwing your card at Hoseok, he fumbling to catch the lightness of the paper.

You were upset, completely furious. Your heart pounded with the knowledge of that betrayal, forcing you to look at Hoseok with angry eyes and trembling lips.

“What happe–”

“Look at the card,” you didn’t want to shout at Hoseok, it wasn’t in your nature to speak loudly to other people, but at that moment, totally consumed by all the emotions that arose in your heart, you couldn’t control your tone of voice, your words coming out louder than intended. “Look at the card and explain to me why you didn’t tell me!”

Hoseok’s dark eyes looked at you nervously, the glow that embellished them giving them a fear that was completely unknown to him. It took a while. He was still assimilating your words, repeating them in his head, trying to understand what you specifically meant. But, when all the dots connected, when your anger became justifiable and the card essential, Hoseok quickly looked at the card, letting out a small curse when he saw the initials and numbers that adorned the white piece of paper.

ㅤ J.H. 2430.1872

“I can explai–”

“I can’t believe it. It is really you! You switched the cards!”

You let out a fake laugh, turning your body to face the door in an attempt to calm down. After taking a deep breath once, twice, three times, you looked back at Hoseok, who now had a look of determination that didn’t match your conversation.

“He loves you.”

“He’s not my soulmate,” you couldn’t explain, but your eyes started to water. Anger? Despair? Betrayal? What emotion did you seek from the turbulent sea that shook your heart to make you want to cry?

“That doesn’t invalidate the fact that he loves you.”

You shook your head, your lips forming a fake, angry smile, painted with the turmoil that existed in your heart. “You know perfectly well it does.”

“Listen,” Hoseok approached you, the card held in one of his hands. “You like him. It’s noticeable! The way you look at him. The way you shine when you’re with him! Yo–”

“No!” you shouted without realizing it, snatching the card from Hoseok’s hand and waving it in front of his eyes. “You are my soulmate. It’s you I have to stay with. You are the one I have to love.”

“No. No! No!” now Hoseok was also shouting, desperate to make himself heard, wanting to explain himself at all costs. “You don’t have to keep your–”

“You know perfectly well what happens to those who don’t stay with their soulmate.” Sadness. Hurt. Suffering. Grief. Years of pure despair. Years of nothing but anguish. “Do you really want him to be like that? Consumed by the negativity of the universe?”

“How,” Hoseok laughed, a little insane with your argument, taking his hands to his head and pulling lightly his hair. “How is he going to be unhappy if he has loved you since the first day you met?”

“Feelings come and go,” your tone returned to normal, your gaze now trapping Hoseok in a box with no escape, your conversation turning from despair to frustration. “He wouldn’t be happy with me.”

Hoseok looked at you furious with your deaf ears. You looked at Hoseok irritated by his empty words.

The door opened.

Namjoon entered.

“I heard screams… Is everything okay?”

Namjoon’s eyes jumped from you to Hoseok.

He was confused, he didn’t understand why you were alone in an empty room screaming. On the other side of the door, Namjoon hadn’t been able to understand the nature of your argument, but now looking at you, he knew it was something serious.

“Tell him.”

Your eyes finally got tired, the first tear sliding easily down your face, taking with it a bit of the sadness of reality. “Tell him, Hoseok.”

“Tell me what?”

Now Namjoon started to get nervous.

What had happened between the two of you to create such a tense atmosphere? How did the two of you, the ones who were always joking with each other, the ones who knew nothing more than laughter and smiles – how did the two of you end up screaming and crying?

“Tell him how I will never be happy with him because I am destined to love you.”

ㅤㅤ♡ feedback is appreciated ♡

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