#midterm scribblings | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sv3t1ana · 1 month ago

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SYNOPSIS ᯓ In your college math class, you’ve always seen Choso as the quiet, nerdy guy who kept to himself. He was the one with perfect grades and a pair of glasses perched on his nose. When your midterm grades don’t reflect your effort, you ask him to tutor you.

PAIRING ᯓ Tutor! NerdCho x fem! reader

WARNINGS ᯓ SMUT MDNI, college AU, VIRGIN CHOSO, tw: calculus </3, you take his virginity, you make him call you "good girl," you make him tutor you during it, lots of consent, unprotected piv sex, eye contact, sweet ending, fluff, PORN WITH PLOT, reader is very sweet with nervous shy Choso.

WORD COUNT ᯓ 6.0k

Your head rests in your hands, drowning out the noise of pens moving, glossing over the set of calculus problems sat in front of you. At this point you don’t know why you still try. You’ve failed every assignment so far, and the midterm went so horribly you had to physically go outside and touch grass to keep yourself from becoming too depressed about it.

Most of the class either had their heads in their phone or pretending to follow along, and then there’s Choso. You noticed him immediately, he was always on task, scribbling notes, glasses perched on his nose, he looked like the kind of guy who sleeps with a textbook under his pillow. It looked like math was as easy as breathing for him, and you couldn’t comprehend why someone would actually care about this stuff.

-----

Choso noticed you on day one, your hair perfectly blown out, pink manicured nails, coffee in hand, about 10 minutes late. He noticed even sooner that you struggled, the way you’d roll your eyes and cock your head back dramatically in the middle of an in-class assignment, or when you’d pull your laptop out to check your test scores just to sigh loud enough for everyone to hear.

You were exactly his type. Well, not that he had a type per se, and not that he’s ever so much as shook hands with the opposite sex, but you were too attractive for him not to like you. When you spoke up it made his heart stutter, the way you squinted your eyes and brows furrowed in concentration made his stomach flip, the perfume you wore blessing his lungs.

He knew you were never the type of girl to talk to him. Not when he overheard you talking with your friends outside the classroom about some party.

“I’m telling you, you need to go all out for this Halloween party. It’s gonna be crazy. What are you wearing?”

“Oh, I’ve got the perfect thing. A super slutty devil outfit. You know, a skirt, corset, fishnets.”

He nearly passed out visualizing you in that outfit, how your thighs would look restrained by fishnets, a corset that would cinch your waist dangerously thin and probably make your tits pop out, but he was in the middle of class, and he already told himself he’d stop getting boners in the middle of class.

It was too much for him, why did you have such a tight hold on his heart when you’d never speak to him? It just made his self-confidence dwindle, as if he couldn’t become more of a coward.

-----

It was about three weeks out from the final, and thank god these websites existed online that could tell you what you needed to score on the final to pass the class.

Unfortunately for you, you scored a measly 11/100 on the midterm, meaning you’d need at least 90/100 to pass the class with a 70%, and hell would freeze over before you taught yourself calculus topics well enough to score that high on the final.

It was a Monday, and you were feeling the aftermath of a Sunday darty a little too strongly. You might’ve slept in a bit too much, and honestly, you didn’t care. Attendance was a grade booster, and you weren’t about to let those free points slip through your fingers. You walked into class, hair a mess, dressed in the baggiest sweatpants and the most oversized hoodie you could find.

The second you stepped through the door you didn’t miss the way Choso’s eyes widened as they locked on your disheveled state. You barely spared him a glance as you shuffled to your seat, exhaling loudly in relief that you even made it here at all.

But, of course, the universe wasn’t quite done with you yet.

You reached for your bag, only to realize, fuck, you forgot your pens and pencils.

You giggled to yourself getting out of your seat and walking over to him.

“Can I bother you for a pen?” you asked, voice smooth and sweet, flashing him a playful puppy-dog look.

Choso’s face turned pink, and he immediately froze up. “U-um, yeah, of course.” His voice cracked, and you could practically hear his heart pounding in his chest. His posture straightened, like your words sent a jolt of electricity through him.

His hand trembled slightly as he handed you the nicest pen in his collection, like it was a prized possession.

You grinned, “Thanks!” Then, just as you were about to turn back to your desk, you stopped mid-step and spun around on your heel, catching him completely off guard.

Your eyes locked onto him again, serious expression on your face as he nearly jumped out of his seat. “Oh, wait. What did you get on the midterm?”

He fidgeted, averting his gaze and adjusting his glasses nervously. “Oh, uh.. 100.”

He said it like it was the most casual thing in the world. You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Okay, genius.”

-----

For the next week after that, every time you entered the class Choso was always there first, so you spared him a smile and wave.

At first, he didn’t know you were even waving at him, looking behind him like there must be someone else more worthy of your attention, just to be met with the wall of windows behind where he sat, and you were, in fact, waving to him. He lifted his hand nervously, a timid smile curving his lips, waving back as you set your drink on your desk and prepared for another grueling lecture.

It was becoming more real, finals two weeks out, and you just failed every assignment last week, it was not looking good for you.

Until, a devilish smile spread across your face as an idea popped into your head, almost a physical light bulb appearing above your head because your scheme was just that great.

You had it all planned out. Step one, wear the thinnest, tightest, most revealing top you had. Step two, ask Choso to tutor you. How could it go wrong?

-----

It was just another normal day to Choso, or at least as normal as it could be when the girl he’d spent the last few months secretly pining for had started waving at him almost every day. That had become his new normal, and it still made his heart race every time.

But that day, you walked in, and everything changed.

You wore a pair of tight jeans and a button-up short-sleeved top that was a little too tight across the chest. The last button on your shirt barely held on, the fabric straining over the curve of your breasts, and he had to swallow to keep himself from completely losing it.

“Your name’s Choso, right?” you asked, voice sweet, eyes locked on his, and oh god, you looked so cute.

“Y-yeah,” he stammered, cheeks warming.

“Well, I was wondering...” you propped your hands on your knees, bending down to his level, but with the angle you were leaning, your tits were the first thing he saw rather than your face. His eyes shot to the floor. “Would you be willing to help tutor me so I can pass this final?”

You clasped your hands together in front of your chest, bottom lip jutting out as you tilted your head, looking at him with the kind of pleading gaze he couldn’t say no to. “Pleeaseee?”

And oh god, you were begging him. He could hardly breathe, his heart pounding so hard it might’ve leapt right out of his chest.

His face was a deep crimson, ears nearly exploding off his head, “U-um, sure, I-I can help.”

You smiled so brightly that it took all of his willpower not to melt. “Great! Thanks!” you cheered, jumping in excitement.

Shit, holy shit, when you jumped your boobs were bouncing right in his face. Brain short-circuiting, he had to look away, he had to. There was no way he could survive this.

Of course you noticed. “Here, put your number in my phone so I can text you later,” you winked.

He hesitatingly took your phone in his hand, fingers trembling.

All of this. All of this in one day?

First you waved at him, then you wore that outfit, and then you said you’ll text him? It was all over for him at this point. His life was officially over.

-----

It was late at night when you texted, the first text Choso had ever got from a non-family member.

“hey Choso, when can we start the tutoring?”

He kept typing out the message, deleting it, typing it out, deleting it, damn near 15 minutes go by before he actually responded.

“I’m free after class tomorrow if that works for you. I can meet you at the library or somewhere on campus.”

Your response coming almost immediately.

“i was thinking maybe we could do it at your dorm? quieter and more focused, you know?”

At his dorm? It was almost 1:00 AM and he was already cleaning.

“Uh, yeah, that works. My dorm is fine. I’ll text you when I get back.”

You flipped over in your bed, feet kicking in the air and giggling to yourself. Ugh, you loved making boys nervous. There was just something about Choso that made you want to corrupt him, smash his glasses with your heel and make him do your homework for the rest of his life.

-----

You spent all day in your room, holding different shirt options to your body in front of the mirror in anticipation of your first tutoring session. You really did need the help, but what girl didn’t want to look her best with her new male tutor?

You were so giddy about it you skipped all of your classes for the day, this was such an important event for you.

-----

You plucked at the hem of your shirt, dragging the fabric between your fingers as Choso flips through his notes. His dorm was neat, neater than you expected. His bed was all made, desk clean of clutter, trashcan empty, it made you giggle, actually. He did all this for you.

You grinned at him, “you look nervous.”

He adjusted his glasses, deadpanning you. “I’m not.”

You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head at him and squinting your eyes. “Right. So you’re just gripping that pen like it’s your last lifeline?”

Choso glanced down, loosening his grip slightly which made you smile. “Let’s just start. What’s the derivative of 3x cubed?”

You hummed, tapping your lips in exaggerated thought. “Mmm… seven?”

“No.” He replied flatly.

You laughed, leaning forward on his desk. “You’re cute when you’re annoyed.”

Choso paused for half a second, and you didn’t miss the way his jaw tenses.

He exhaled through his nose, ignoring your comment. “Try again.”

You stretched back in your chair, throwing your arms over your head. “God, this is so hard. My brain just doesn’t work like yours, y’know?”

Choso stares at you, expression unreadable as he flips to a new page in his notebook and scribbles something down, sliding it toward you.

You glance down. A problem is written out step by step, clear, easy to follow. For all his awkwardness, he’s patient. You expected him to break first.

“You know, Choso, I think you might actually be a good tutor.”

He quirked an eyebrow, “that was kinda the point.”

The first tutoring session played out like this, your impatience clashing with his steady calm, laced with sharp-edged banter. In the end, you did pick up a few things, one of them being that your new favorite pastime was making him tremble.

When the session finally wrapped up, you stretched, shirt riding up just enough to make his gaze snap to the desk. “Alright, I think that’s enough for today. I’d say I earned a lot,” you mused, voice thick with fake amusement.

Choso swallowed, not knowing if you meant calculus or something else entirely. “Uh, yeah. Just keep practicing.”

You shot him a lazy smile, telling him how good of a tutor he was and letting his name roll off your tongue. You knew what you did to him.

Later that night you sat in bed, laptop open and textbook in front of you, shooting him a text.

“why is math even a requirement for me. be fr rn. i just tried to do one problem and just stared at it for five minutes before giving up. i am beyond saving.”

“You are not beyond saving. You just need more practice.”

“nerd. okay but seriously, how do you not struggle at all? i bet you could do derivatives in your sleep.”

“I mean, probably. It’s just simple pattern recognition.”

“well the only pattern i recognize is me bombing every exam.”

“That’s why we’re tutoring, right? You’ll get it.”

“you have so much faith in me, it’s almost cute.”

Choso stared at his screen for way too long, rereading your words like they might change if he blinked enough. Cute. Him cute? Well, almost cute. But still. Cute.

“You’re not as hopeless as you think. Just need a better way to approach the problems.”

“aww lol u really care huh? so sweet :)”

He immediately regretted everything.

“Just get some sleep.”

He hesitated before sending another text. He really, really shouldn’t do it.

“Good night.”

Stupid, why would he send that?

“goodnight, Choso <3”

He hadn’t even realized he was holding his breath until he let out a shaky exhale. His heart hammering in his chest, fingers gripping the phone so tightly he thought it might crack.

He cursed under his breath, forcing himself to set the phone down. But he didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. His thoughts racing, a chaotic swirl of “she’s teasing” and “she’s just being nice” then “no, she’s probably messing with me.”

But what if you weren't?

His heart skipped as he tried to lie still, the faintest tremble in his legs and hands betraying his calm exterior. He squeezed his eyes shut, sweat beading on his forehead, heat creeping up his neck, skin burning with embarrassment.

You idiot. Why did you say anything?

The words “good night” had felt like an eternity before he hit send, and now that it was done he couldn’t help but question everything.

He grabbed his chest, clutching it like he could contain the frantic rhythm of his pulse. Was he too forward? Too weird?

God, this is so stupid.

But he remembered how you smiled earlier, how you looked at him like you wanted to keep going. That thought alone was enough to make his heart beat faster. He groaned into his pillow, clenching his fist around the sheets, unsure of how much longer he could survive this.

-----

Today was your second tutoring session with Choso, looking forward to it because you knew the chaos you were about to stir.

It wasn’t just the subject that had you on edge, it was the way he made you feel when he tried so hard to maintain his composure, and how cute he looked when you knocked him off balance.

You picked out a low-cut top that left just enough to the imagination. The black fabric clung to your body, outlining every curve, and the thin straps only accentuated the subtle shift in your posture as you moved. Paired with denim shorts that were just a liiitle too short for your liking.

Oh you were definitely going to enjoy this.

When you arrived at his dorm, he greeted you at the door, eyes widening just a fraction as they flicked to your outfit. His face flushed and he nervously cleared his throat.

“Hey,” you greeted, casually walking in and trying your best to act nonchalant, the little smile tugging at the corner of your lips betraying you. “So… what are we doing today?”

His voice was a little too strained. “Uh, w-we’re going over limits and derivatives,” he darted his eyes around the room. “You, uh… you ready?”

You couldn’t help but notice how stiff he was, how his posture was unnaturally rigid like he was trying not to make any sudden movements. His eyes kept flicking up and down between your face and anywhere else on your body, his gaze lingering too long on your chest, hands twitching at his sides.

You raised an eyebrow as you took a seat, smiling at him so warmly you looked like a beautiful renaissance painting. And Choso tried so hard not to look at you directly, his fingers shaky as they reached for his textbook.

You leaned forward, making sure to get just a bit closer than necessary, your bare knee brushing against his as you settled in. You watched how he stiffened, body going tense as if he were holding himself together by sheer willpower.

“You look distracted,” you quipped, and oh, you just looked so pretty, sitting so close to him, hair framing your face perfectly, long lashes fluttering in his direction like you didn’t know what you did to him.

He blushed again, immediately averting his stare. His words stammered as he tried to focus. “N-no, I’m not distracted! Just trying to make sure I can explain this correctly.”

You bit your lip, savoring the moment. Watching him squirm under your teasing felt way too good. You really liked this.

“I’m sure you’ll do fine.” You said it with a mischievous glint in your eyes, turning your body to face him more directly and leaning in, hands in your lap so your arms accidentally pushed your boobs together. “I think I’m distracting you.”

You could practically feel the sweat beading his hairline. His voice cracked when he spoke, “No! I’m fine, I-I can do this.”

He cleared his throat again, turning the pages of his textbook with a little more force than necessary. Without thinking, you reached your arm forward, one of your elbows accidentally brushing against his arm as you reached for the textbook.

You don’t know if he actually gasped or you just fantasized that.

His hand landed clumsily on your thigh, just below the hem of your shorts. His fingers were warm, thick, long, you could feel his pulse beneath his skin, fast and erratic. His eyes were wide, mouth agape staring at his hand like it just committed a heinous crime. You had to fight to keep your expression neutral, but a part of you want to grab his hand to keep it there as he drew away.

“Uh!” He stammered, yanking his hand away so quickly it felt like he burned himself. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean- I wasn’t-”

You smiled, leaning back casually. “It’s fine. Really,” you said, your voice sweet like honey. “You can touch me anytime.”

As if his blush couldn’t get any deeper, his mouth opened to say something but the words seemed to fail him as he returned fumbling with the pages of his textbook. Hands even more jittery than before.

You sighed, humming to yourself, taking in the sight of his discomfort with an unrelenting smile. He’s so cute when he’s flustered.

The tutoring session stretched on longer than either of you expected, filled with more awkward moments and persistent tension. But despite the longing glances and missteps, you could kind of understand unit 1. Progress. A small victory.

----

It was the morning before your final, and your bed felt like the only thing worth living for. The world outside was bustling and you couldn’t care less. You tossed and turned, half-heartedly kicking off your blankets and throwing your pillows across the room as if it were the source of all your problems. Maybe if I break the pillow, you thought in a daze, I’ll magically forget I have to study.

The snooze button was your best friend but it wasn’t doing you any favors today. You were stuck in a loop of staring at the ceiling and wishing for the sweet release of sleep, but even then, your mind couldn’t settle. Your brain refusing to focus on anything other than the thought of seeing Choso later. It shouldn’t have been that exciting, but you were feeling a little giddy. Maybe it was his nervous, earnest energy, or how adorably flustered he always got around you. Whatever it was, you had to admit: you were looking forward to tutoring today… just not the actual studying part.

As you got yourself ready for the day, your phone buzzed, and it was a message from Choso.

“Ready for tutoring?”

You stared at it for a while. You really didn’t want to study. But the thought of seeing him so pliant, of making him fidget like he always did, was enough to pull you out of your pit of dread.

-----

You barely looked at your notes, instead keeping your gaze on him. You pouted, jutting out your bottom lip, not bothering to hide the irritation building inside of you.

“I don’t wanna do this,” you groaned, slouching and folding your arms. “Can’t I just not? I mean what’s the point?”

Choso hesitated, looking at you from the corner of his eye. “I- well, I think it would help if we just focused a little longer. You’ve made progress.”

But that didn’t help your mood. You puffed out your bottom lip even more. “Ugh, no. I don’t wanna,” you whined, catching his eyes with yours, watching him fumble with the pen in his hands.

You extended an arm, resting your hand on the nape of his neck playing with the stray hairs that fell from his buns. “Come on, Choso. Tell me I’ve been a good girl today. I deserve it for actually showing up.”

He froze, breath hitching. There was a moment of silence before he pushed his glasses up. “I-I… You’ve been good,” he mumbled.

You tilted your head at him, still twirling his hair between your fingers. “No, I’ve been a good girl, right?”

His lips parted, looking at you shyly when you began tracing circles on his upper back with your nails, causing a shiver to visibly run through his body. “Yes… you’ve been a- a good girl.”

You smiled softly at him. “Thanks, Cho, but I really don’t wanna study today,” you said, voice melodious.

“You’re welcome,” he murmured, cut off from whatever else he was going to say when you stood from your chair, throwing a leg over his lap and straddling him.

“W-we need to study,” he said, expression pure as he looked at you, he really had no choice to, you took up his entire vision, nonetheless sat on his lap. Your breasts were squished against his hard chest, your erect nipples poking from your shirt, which he saw you wore no bra.

“Chooo,” you said in a sing-songy voice, bringing your glossed lips inches away from his. “If you really wanna study that bad then fine, but I deserve a reward.”

“A-a reward-”

You brought your lips to his in a sweet, delicate kiss, testing the waters. He halted for a beat before returning the kiss, not knowing exactly what he’s supposed to be doing and accidentally using way too much teeth.

You couldn’t help but giggle, wrapping your arms around his suspiciously broad shoulders, momentarily breaking the kiss. “Jeez, you work out or something?” You asked, leaning back to eye him as your hands traveled his shoulders, squeeze his biceps, caress his chest.

“U-um,” he didn’t have time to respond before you kissed him again. This time, your lips parted to lick his, grazing your teeth over his bottom lip before bringing it into your mouth to lightly bite it. He groaned in response, instinctively bringing his hands up to rest modestly high on your back.

You hummed into his mouth, retracting your hands to guide his, helping him to find purchase on your ass. “You can touch me, Cho,” you said gently, moving your hips higher on his lap.

He nearly whimpered feeling your body weight on his erection, involuntarily squeezing you as your hips grind on his, planting wet kissing along his jaw and neck.

You laughed to yourself, he was so adorable like this. He had no idea what to do, no idea how to kiss, where to put his hands. It was so precious, and it made the heat in your center burn even more.

“Take my shirt off,”

“A-are you sure? I mean, we need to-”

“Pleeeaseee, Cho?” You gave him that pout again, that look with wide, sad eyes that he couldn’t resist. Your existence just made this a losing game for him, and his palms were already sweaty peeling the fabric off your body, letting out a shaky inhale at the sight of your pert nipples, rotund breasts that were just begging him to touch.

“You- you’re beautiful,” he said under his breath, unable to take his gaze away from your bare body before him, he could tell your skin was delicately soft without even touching it.

“You really think so?” A brush spread across your cheeks, your arousal soaking your panties watching him completely awestruck. “You can touch them, it’s okay.”

He cupped your breasts with either hand, kneading them and letting the tissue pillow between his fingers in his grasp.

“Put one in your mouth,” your voice was so sweet, so sugary guiding him through the normal bouts of foreplay.

And he did just that, lowering his head to meet your breasts and sucking so tactfully like you were a precious heirloom that’d break if he was too rough.

“You can be more rough, I’m okay, I promise.” He looked up at you questionably, before he used the flat of his tongue in long strokes over your nipple, taking his time to relish in this moment, savoring the taste of your skin on his tastebuds. He used the tip of his tongue to toy with your nipple, drawing shapes on it which only made you arch your back into him, threading your fingers in his hair.

He just kept going at it, switching between them making sure they both got the same love before you had to tell him to stop, the teasing stimulation making you so antsy sitting on his clothed cock.

You removed his shirt next, revealing his chiseled chest and abs, your mouth watering at the sight. You licked stripes up his neck, sucking on his pulse points and biting as he melted under you. You’d give him a bite, smooth it over with your tongue, plant kisses on it, then give him a hickey.

By the end of this he’d be littered with them, marked as yours.

Your bare breasts on his skin was making him feral, he never in a million years thought this was how he’d spend the end of his sophomore year in college. He thought he’d have to pay someone in order to lose his virginity, probably spend the rest of his life alone as his awkwardness made it impossible to talk to women. But here you were, half-naked and gyrating your hips on his erection. Let alone a woman as beautiful as you, someone he fell in love with the moment you opened your lips for him.

“Should we study, Cho?” You ask, looking up at him from where you left traces of yourself on his body.

“Uh, s-study?” His breath was nearly gone, lost in thought about how he had to be the luckiest man in the world to somehow sign up for the same math class as you.

“Yeah,” you planted a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “We can start studying now,” you began getting off his lap, and he was trying to devise a plan on how to get through a tutoring session with the ache in his pants, that was until you slipped your shorts off, panties landing on the floor with them.

Oh.

When you straddled him again, your slick arousal was already forming a spot on his pants.

“U-um,” he stuttered, pushing up his glasses. His blush started at his appled cheekbones, ending somewhere his happy trail ran under his pants. Somewhere you were so desperate for. “I thought, you wanted to-”

“We’ll study,” you said, caressing his muscled form, using your nail to trace down his chest, then his abs. “Is it okay if I unbutton your pants?”

He bobbed his head up and down almost frantically, his mouth drooling at you fully naked, fully naked on top of him. He pinched the underside of his leg to make sure this wasn’t a dream, his head had been spinning from the moment you touched him.

You deftly unbuttoned his pants, unzipping and letting him shimmy his way out of them. You palmed the very large erection over his boxers, running your hands up and down his length. His head dropped forward, having to suck in breaths to avoid whining like a virgin when you haven’t even touched skin yet. Your fingers were so delicate yet your grip on him was firm, working him over the cloth that covered his most sensitive area and toying with his leaking tip, letting a wet spot appear under the waistband of his boxers.

It was then that you popped his cock out, eyeing the veins that ran up and down his length, his nearly crimson tip, swollen in hopeless desire for release. His balls were so tight, you massaged them with one hand as the other started jerking him slowly, almost painfully. You brought your lips to his again, absorbing all of his whimpers in your mouth and kissing back with addiction.

He tasted sweet, his luscious lips and wet tongue saccharine on your tastebuds. He was so addictive. A man so flexible under your insatiable presence, you removed his glasses and pushed his bangs out of his face, beautiful chestnut brown eyes that looked at you with so much love and desire.

You lifted your hips, “I’m gonna put it in now, okay?”

He nodded intensely, eyes locked on yours with his brows barely pinched together when you teased his tip, running it between your slick and spreading your wetness all over. He was practically pleading you with his eyes, not able to say a word as he let you take the lead.

You sunk down on him slowly, letting him feel all of you and the way your tight walls stretched for his thickness so perfectly, it was like you were made for him.

“Ngh- what is it- fuck- that we need to study?” You asked, breathless, dumbstruck when you bottomed out, his tip poking your cervix as you sat, unmoving.

He stilled for a moment, hesitating in the other-worldly pleasure your pussy offered. You broke him out of his spell when you skimmed your thumb lightly over his cheek, bringing his attention back to reality.

“I-integrals,” he spluttered. “You need to learn- mmh- integrals.”

You started moving your hips slowly mid-sentence, an unhurried tempo so you could watch how he breaks for you.

“Mmm, start explaining it.” You grabbed his hands that gripped the armrests of his chair, bringing them back to your ass, his grip tightening immediately, squeezing the fat firmly with his rough hands.

“Integrals are- hah- the opposite of- hngh-”

“Mhm? Opposite of?” You were sweating, willing yourself to keep a languid tempo and not fuck him how you wanted. He was a virgin after all, and one that was so smitten with you, you loved dragging it out, loved the attention he gave you.

“Th-they’re the opposite of- of derivatives,” his grasp on you only tightening, it was aching, throbbing inside you as you tenderly lowered your hips each time, slowly feeling him getting harder and harder, it was a battle with himself not to cry out.

You leaned in close, your hands cradling his face like he was some delicate artwork, “you’re so big inside me,” you brought your lips to his. He was in a total state of catatonia, your walls milking him with each descent, a puddle of your arousal and his pre drenching the curls at his base. “Aren’t you, Cho?”

You just held his face in your hands, he was so angelic when he was fucked out, bangs sticking to his forehead that you move out of the way for him, skimming your thumbs over his cheeks, a sheen of sweat coating his face.

“A-and,” he began, the grasp he had on your body frantic as he took in more of you, filling his palms with your curves and spreading you wide for him in attempt to feel more. He loved you so much in this moment, he wished he could live inside your skin. “They’re the- the total- mmpf- accumulation over an interval.”

“You’re so sexy when you- ugh- explain things,” you sped up the tempo slightly, just barely, but enough to heighten the carnality, enough to tighten the coil in your abdomen. “Give me an example.”

He was completely hunched over, his head resting on your shoulder as you worked your hips. He was barely able to form a coherent thought let alone do math.

“U-uh, an example?” He huffed out.

“Mhm, give me an example baby.”

“The integral of- haah- x is x squared over 2.” His face was contorted, lips sucked in, brows pinched tightly, nose scrunched as he wallowed in the pleasure, how you only seemed to get more wet the more time that passed, his multiple releases of pre making your entrance so slick, so easy for you to slide up and down his length.

“Cho,” you looked at him with big eyes, grasping his forearm. “Cum with me, touch me here,” you brought his hand to your clit, showing him a circling motion with his thumb.

“Here?” he asked breathlessly, almost jumping out of his skin at the thought of making you cum with his fingers and cock.

“Yes, mmm, just like that, more pressure,” you coached him.

His thumb was circling your clit now, adding the pressure that you pleaded for. His other hand rested lovingly at your back, and you bounced rapidly on him, your thighs slapping his with each fall of your hips. Your hands gripped his shoulders for support, his muscled physique flexing under you as he climbed closer to climax.

You both reach your breaking point at the same time, maintaining eye contact over clouded vision. Your walls milked him for all he had and more, body quivering as you bellowed deeply, all of the stress and tension leaving your body being stretched by his thick length, no choice but to hit your g-spot because of his size. He worked you through it, urgently rubbing you with his thumb while he squeezed his eyes shut, twitching violently inside you releasing his rich seed, no doubt entering your womb.

You both came down from your high together too, foreheads resting as you caught your breath, his dick refusing to go flaccid as you sat still on it.

“Cho,” you looked up at him, tears pricking your eyes and smudging your makeup. “I want to be with you,” you pleaded.

He looked at you so worryingly yet so tenderly, he put a hand at the back of your head, bringing you to his chest so he could hold you close.

“I want to be with you too.” He added.

-----

You took the final the next day, then found yourself sitting on Choso’s dorm room floor with the final grades one click away. Your finger hovered over the screen before finally tapping, the number appearing in bold.

38/100

Silence.

Choso, ever the supportive boyfriend, started gently, “it’s okay, babe, I’ll help you study next ti-”

“LET’S GOOO!” You shouted, pumping your fists in the air like you’d just won the lottery.

He flinched at your sudden outburst, staring at you like you’d completely lost your mind. “Wait, what?”

“I did better than last time!” You grinned, spinning to face him.

His brows lifted in disbelief, mouth opening then closing. You still failed terribly.

Before he could find the words, you launched yourself at him, arms wrapping around his neck. “You can still tutor me!”

He let out a small, helpless laugh, arms instinctively wrapping around your waist. He sighed, pressing his hands tighter.

“I’ll always tutor you.”

A/N: i'm just sitting here giggling at this because choso really is a horrible tutor. like reader girl already had no hopes, but he just let her ride him instead of studying the DAY BEFORE the final... but this is smut, and the integral of x is actually (x^2/2)+C

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diamonddaze01 · 3 months ago

Text

Error 404: Feelings not Found

pairing: jeon wonwoo x f!reader | wc: 4.0k genre: fluff, electrical engineering student wonwoo (pulled out my textbooks for this) warnings: loserboy core a/n: for all my fellow left-brained girlies who have never really understood feelings. sometimes, all you have to do is feel // now playing: when he sees me // thank u kae @ylangelegy for the song suggestion and betaing ily muah!

summary: Wonwoo has always been comfortable in the world of logic. But his crush on you? A catastrophic anomaly in his otherwise perfectly functioning system.

Wonwoo has always been comfortable in the world of logic. Numbers are predictable, formulas are consistent, and circuits behave exactly as they’re supposed to. But his crush on you? A catastrophic anomaly in his otherwise perfectly functioning system.

It’s not like he planned for this. (Wonwoo plans for everything.) He planned how to tackle his midterms, down to how much coffee he’d need for optimal brain function. He planned his study schedule for finals week with a level of precision that could rival NASA’s launch timelines. But he didn’t plan for you—didn’t account for how you’d waltz into his life, smiling like it was easy, and throw every variable he’d ever known into disarray.

Take last week, for instance. You’d borrowed his notes in Signals class after the professor’s lecture turned into a chaotic sprint of equations, leaving most of the class scrambling to catch up. Wonwoo’s notes, as always, were pristine—straight lines, perfect margins, not a single smudge or scribble.

“These are amazing,” you’d said, eyes scanning the page before handing them back. “Your designs are so clean.”

Simple, right? A harmless comment. But by the time he’s back at his desk, staring at his notebook, the words replay in his mind like an unsolved equation. Somewhere between “clean” and the way you smiled, his brain spins out of control, dragging him into an entirely unnecessary analysis.

By the time the clock strikes midnight, he’s halfway through a list of possible interpretations for the word clean.

Did you mean clean as in technically proficient?

Or was it a general observation, like, “Oh, clean lines, nice work”?

Was it just a filler compliment?

Wait, what if you didn’t care about the project at all and were just being polite?

…Or were you flirting?

By the end of the day, the list has ballooned to 27 points, each item meticulously numbered and annotated with follow-up questions. He’s considered:

The tone of your voice (friendly, teasing, or something else entirely?).

The duration of eye contact (exactly 2.3 seconds—long enough to register intent?).

The statistical likelihood of romantic interest based on casual interactions in a shared academic setting.

He even creates a small flowchart titled “Compliment Probability Breakdown” in the margins, complete with arrows leading to various outcomes: “Casual comment” → “Friendly disposition” → “No further analysis needed.” Except, of course, he does further analyze. He always further analyzes.

Mingyu finds him later that night, still hunched over the notebook with a pencil tucked behind his ear. “Wonwoo, what are you doing? It’s a compliment, man. Just take it.”

Wonwoo glares up at him, a little defensive. “Compliments can have layers.”

“Compliments are not onions, dude. Sometimes people just say stuff because they mean it.” Mingyu grabs the notebook, flipping through pages of scribbled notes and diagrams. “Wait, are you seriously tracking eye contact now?”

Wonwoo snatches it back with a huff. “It’s for clarity.”

“Clarity,” Mingyu repeats, shaking his head. “Okay, listen: not everything needs a breakdown. Maybe she just thinks you’re good at this stuff.”

The suggestion should feel reassuring, but it only creates more questions. Do you think he’s good at this stuff? Wonwoo’s chest tightens as the overanalysis starts up again, his brain racing to decode every minor interaction between you two.

And for the first time in his life, he wonders if there’s a problem even logic can’t solve.

The first time Wonwoo realizes he might have a crush on you is during a Circuits lab. The task is simple: build an EKG circuit. The professor’s voice echoes in the background, laying out the steps, but Wonwoo doesn’t need instructions—he’s already ahead, mentally piecing together the circuit in his mind like a jigsaw puzzle.

You, him, and Soonyoung are grouped together. Soonyoung, true to form, spends more time spinning a pen between his fingers and accidentally dropping it than actually contributing. “What’s a diode again?” he whispers, squinting at the diagram. Wonwoo doesn’t bother answering. He’s focused on soldering the components, the familiar rhythm of it calming.

Then you lean closer. Close enough that he catches the faint scent of your shampoo—something floral, light, completely unexpected.

“Wow, you’re fast,” you say as Wonwoo expertly attaches a capacitor to the circuit. There’s a trace of genuine admiration in your voice, enough to make him falter. “I’d probably still be looking for the resistor.”

The comment shouldn’t faze him. It’s just a compliment, nothing extraordinary. He glances at you, briefly, before immediately looking back at the board. It feels safer not to meet your eyes for too long. “Uh, it’s color-coded,” he manages, his voice steady but quieter than usual. “You just… follow the stripes.”

You laugh softly, the sound threading its way into his chest like a loose wire connecting where it shouldn’t. “Yeah, but it’s not that simple for everyone,” you say, brushing a stray hair out of your face as you turn your attention to the circuit.

The way you say it makes his chest feel strangely tight—like you’ve taken something as mundane as resistors and turned it into a compliment, like you’re saying he’s not simple either. It’s a ridiculous thought, and yet it roots itself in his mind.

Wonwoo’s hand, soldering iron poised mid-air, doesn’t move. His brain, which usually fires on all cylinders, freezes like an overloaded processor. The soldering iron hovers dangerously close to the board, but all he can focus on is the way your hair catches the light, the way your fingers curl around the resistor as you inspect it. Wonwoo doesn’t mean to notice, but suddenly he can’t stop noticing—the way the fluorescent light reflects in your eyes, the faint trace of soap on your hands when you adjust a wire, the warmth radiating from your voice when you hum quietly in thought.

It’s not until Soonyoung gently clears his throat that he realizes his brain has completely stopped functioning. His usually razor-sharp focus is now cluttered with incoherent static.

“Wonwoo?” you ask, leaning back slightly to meet his eyes. There’s a hint of concern in your voice. “You good?”

He panics. “Uh. 100 ohms.”

Your brow furrows. “What?”

“Uh—100 ohms,” he repeats, gesturing vaguely at the resistor in your hand like it explains anything. “That’s… its resistance.”

There’s a beat of silence, thick and awkward. You blink at him, clearly trying to piece together whatever he’s just said. Then you burst out laughing, shaking your head as you turn back to the project. “Okay, resistor boy. Whatever you say.”

The sound of your laughter leaves his chest feeling tight, like someone’s replaced his heart with a capacitor about to blow.

Soonyoung, who’s been watching the exchange with far too much interest, smirks. He leans over the table, stage-whispering, “What was that?”

“What was what?” Wonwoo mutters, focusing on the soldering again, as if he can undo the entire exchange by sheer force of will.

“You’re usually all cool and robotic,” Soonyoung teases, wagging his pen like it’s some kind of magic wand. “That was… weird.”

Wonwoo shakes his head quickly, but the heat creeping up the back of his neck says otherwise. “I don’t know,” he mumbles, the words barely audible over the hum of the soldering iron. “I think I glitched.”

“Uh, yeah. Glitched hard.” Soonyoung grins, nudging him in the ribs. “Man, this is going to be fun to watch.”

Wonwoo groans, his ears burning. The circuit in front of him makes perfect sense—the resistors, the capacitors, the impedance of the op-amp—but nothing about you fits into a neat schematic. And for the first time in his life, that terrifies him.

Now, weeks later, Wonwoo is in his room, utterly consumed by the mess on his desk. It’s an anomaly in itself—Wonwoo is meticulous, his workspace usually a shrine to organization (he always says: clean desk, clean mind). But now, papers are scattered like fallen leaves, covered in scribbles, equations, and bullet points that grow increasingly frantic as they spread across the desk.

The centerpiece of this chaos? A flowchart spanning two pages, taped together like some sort of grand engineering blueprint. It’s titled, in block letters: “Signs She Might Like Me Back.”

Wonwoo taps his pen against the paper, staring at the branching lines as if sheer focus might make them reveal the answer he’s been agonizing over. Beneath the title are subcategories labeled “Physical Cues,” “Verbal Indicators,” and, his personal favorite, “Ambiguous Behavior That Could Go Either Way.”

Under “Physical Cues,” he’s written:

Smiles when she sees me.

Leans closer during conversation (but what if it’s because of background noise?).

Touches my arm (happened once, inconclusive).

Under “Verbal Indicators,” there’s a bullet that reads:

Complimented my handwriting. Significance unclear.

He’s in the middle of adding a new branch—“Initiates conversation (specific or casual?)”—when the door bursts open without warning.

“Wonwoo, what the hell are you doing? It’s 3 AM.” Mingyu strides in, holding a bowl of instant ramen and a look of mild concern. His gaze lands on the desk, and his expression shifts to outright amusement. “Wait… what is this?”

Wonwoo freezes like he’s been caught committing a federal crime. He instinctively moves to cover the flowchart with both arms, but it’s far too late. Mingyu steps closer, craning his neck to read the edges of the paper that Wonwoo couldn’t shield in time.

“‘Compliments: Genuine or Polite’?” Mingyu reads aloud, his voice rising in barely-contained glee. He sets the ramen down and leans over the desk. “‘Smiles frequently—friendly or flirty?’ Wonwoo…” He looks at his friend, wide-eyed and grinning. “Are you seriously trying to analyze feelings right now?”

“No,” Wonwoo lies, far too quickly. “It’s… theoretical.”

Mingyu snorts, dropping into the chair beside him and spinning it halfway around before leaning forward. “Theoretical? Dude, this looks like the final project for your psych elective. Come on, what’s the problem? Spill.”

Wonwoo hesitates, gripping his pen like it’s the only thing tethering him to reality. But the weight of weeks of overthinking finally tips the scale, and he lets out a long sigh, setting the pen down.

“I just don’t… get it,” he admits, gesturing vaguely to the papers. “Feelings are so inconsistent. They don’t follow any rules. There’s no formula to predict intent, no way to be certain what someone means. How do people know if someone’s interested in them? How do you know when to… I don’t know, do something about it?”

Mingyu leans back in the chair, arms crossed as he considers the question. “Easy,” he says after a beat. “You stop thinking about it so much and just ask them out.”

Wonwoo blinks at him, utterly horrified. “That’s… illogical. That’s guessing. That’s like building a circuit without testing the components first. What if the whole thing explodes?”

“Yeah, well, feelings aren’t supposed to be logical,” Mingyu says with a shrug, grabbing the bowl of ramen and slurping a mouthful. He claps Wonwoo on the shoulder with his free hand, grinning around his chopsticks. “Face it, man. You’re screwed.”

Wonwoo stares at him, expression blank but mind racing at a million miles an hour. “There’s got to be a better way than just… guessing.”

“Good luck finding it,” Mingyu says, standing up and taking his ramen with him. “But if you don’t make a move soon, she might just think you’re not interested. So, you know… keep that in mind.”

Wonwoo sits in silence long after Mingyu leaves, staring down at his flowchart. His pen hovers over the paper, but he doesn’t write anything. For once, the calculations feel insufficient.

And maybe, just maybe, Mingyu’s right.

The thing is, you keep throwing off his system. Wonwoo’s world is built on rules, a place where inputs lead to predictable outputs. But you? You’re the glitch in his perfectly functioning program, an anomaly he can’t solve no matter how many late nights he spends overanalyzing.

The way you laugh at his deadpan jokes—it’s too loud for the library but not loud enough to draw attention, just enough to pull his gaze toward you. It doesn’t matter that you’ve already heard that joke during last week’s study session; you laugh anyway, and the sound is unreasonably addictive. The way you ask for help even when he knows you don’t need it. Like last week, when you slid your notebook toward him with a confused pout.

“Can you help me with this? I don’t get it.”

He barely glanced at the equation. “You’re way too smart to not understand this.”

And then you laughed, a soft, warm sound that curled around his chest and lodged itself there. That laugh earned a solid 15 points on his internal ‘Possible Signs of Interest’ checklist, though he later downgraded it to 10 because he couldn’t account for external variables like your naturally kind disposition.

It’s infuriating. Why do feelings refuse to conform to logic?

He tries analyzing every interaction, mapping out probabilities and outcomes in the quiet corners of his mind. He’s drawn tables, diagrams, even flowcharts in an attempt to parse out the truth.

Was the way you leaned closer during study group last week a sign of interest? Or were you just trying to hear him better? Did the way you laughed at his dumb, offhand comment in class mean something? Or do you just laugh like that at everything?

Take today, for example: You brushed past him on your way to class, smiling and throwing over your shoulder, “See you at study group later!” That brief moment derailed his entire afternoon.

Did you linger when your arm touched his? Or was that just an accidental graze? Was your smile just friendly, or something more?

And why does he care so much?

Wonwoo spends the rest of the day distracted, his mind looping through possibilities like an endless algorithm stuck in an infinite while-loop. What’s worse is that he doesn’t even know what he wants the answer to be. A part of him craves certainty, some definitive sign that he should act on these feelings. But another part—a quieter, more cautious part—fears the idea of ruining the tenuous balance between you two.

Because what if he’s wrong? What if you’re just like this with everyone? What if he makes his move and you pull away, looking at him like he’s a problem to be solved instead of someone you enjoy spending time with?

By the time the study session rolls around, he’s teetering on the edge of complete disarray, not that he’d ever let it show.

Or so he thinks.

Because two hours in, he miscalculates an integral. An integral. Wonwoo never miscalculates anything.

You catch it immediately, tilting your head as you lean closer. He can feel the heat radiating off your skin, the soft rustle of your notebook as you shift it toward him.

“Are you okay, Wonwoo? You’re usually so precise,” you say, your voice light but with an edge of curiosity.

His ears burn. “Just tired,” he mumbles, avoiding your gaze as he corrects the mistake. He doesn’t add that it’s your proximity short-circuiting his brain, or that the way your hair falls over your shoulder is infinitely more distracting than any differential equation.

Your smirk lingers in his periphery, and he wonders if you can tell just how fast his heart is beating. He wonders if you feel the same strange, unexplainable pull that he does.

The study session stretches late into the evening. Most of the group has already packed up, and you’re the last one still typing away at your laptop when Wonwoo’s caffeine miscalculation finally catches up to him.

He doesn’t remember falling asleep—just the faint hum of your keyboard and the warm glow of the desk lamp. When he stirs slightly, he feels a ghosting touch against his face.

Your fingers are gentle as you slide his glasses off, careful not to wake him. He feels the cool metal leave his skin, followed by the soft brush of your thumb near the mark his nose pad left.

His heart lurches, and he has to force himself to keep his breathing even. A dozen thoughts rush through his mind all at once:

Is she doing this because she likes me?No, she’s just being considerate.But she’s touching my face.What does that mean? What does it mean if she’s touching my face?

He clenches his fists against the urge to open his eyes, to meet your gaze and demand answers. Instead, he forces himself to focus on the moment—the sound of your quiet breaths, the occasional click of your mouse, and the warmth that radiates from your side of the table.

For a fleeting moment, he thinks: Maybe emotions don’t always need to make sense. Maybe, just this once, he can let go of the need to understand everything.

Maybe, just this once, he can let himself feel.

Wonwoo doesn’t know how it’s come to this. One moment, he was perfectly content at home, considering a quiet evening spent debugging code or reorganizing his bookshelves. The next, Mingyu and Soonyoung were in his room, looming like conspirators with matching grins.

“You have to come,” Mingyu had said, tugging at the sleeves of Wonwoo’s sweatshirt. “It’s social interaction, it’s good for you. You’ll thank us later.”

“No, I won’t,” Wonwoo deadpanned, crossing his arms.

Soonyoung leaned in, holding up his phone with a smug look. “You sure about that? Because I might have accidentally taken a picture of that Venn diagram you made the other day.”

Wonwoo froze, his blood running cold. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, but I would.” Soonyoung’s grin widened. “And I bet someone would find it very… interesting.”

That was how he found himself lacing up his sneakers with a grim expression, muttering under his breath about betrayal and bad friends.

Now, standing awkwardly at the edge of a crowded house party, Wonwoo is reminded why he hates these things. The music is too loud, the lights are too dim, and there are far too many people moving unpredictably around him. He’s already considering texting Mingyu and Soonyoung to demand their exact location when he spots you.

You’re standing by the makeshift bar, laughing at something someone said, your smile so effortless it lights up the room in a way the cheap string lights never could. Wonwoo doesn’t mean to stare, but his feet move before his brain can catch up. He tells himself it’s because you’re familiar, a safe point of contact in an otherwise chaotic environment.

But deep down, he knows better.

“Wonwoo?” you call out, your eyes lighting up as you notice him approaching from the edge of the room.

He halts mid-step, caught somewhere between relief and apprehension, and forces out a casual, “Hey.” His hands disappear into his pockets, his fingers fidgeting with loose threads, unsure what else to do.

You grin, leaning one elbow against the counter, your drink swaying lazily in your other hand. “You don’t seem like the party type,” you tease, tilting your head to study him.

“I was... coerced,” he replies flatly, and the corner of your mouth quirks up as you laugh.

“Oh, let me guess.” You raise an eyebrow, pretending to think hard. “Mingyu? No, no—Soonyoung. Or both? Definitely both.”

“They’re... relentless,” Wonwoo admits, almost sounding offended, but there’s a faint twitch of a smile at the edges of his lips.

“Wow. Dragged out of your hobbit hole just to stand here and glare at people? They must’ve bribed you with something really good.”

He looks away, almost sheepishly. “Something like that.”

Your laugh rings out again, easy and unforced, and Wonwoo feels a little lighter despite himself. “Poor you,” you say, your voice dripping with mock sympathy. “Do you need a drink to cope? A strong one?”

He snorts. “I’m fine, thanks.”

“Well, you made it out of the house, so I guess that’s something,” you say, stepping closer. “Though you do look like you’re two minutes away from bolting.”

He shrugs, his gaze flickering between you and the crowd. “It’s not my scene.”

“And yet, here you are,” you point out, your tone playful. “Is it for Mingyu? Or Soonyoung? Or…” You pause, a slow smile spreading across your face. “...someone else?”

His brain short-circuits at your words, but he does his best to play it cool. “I think they just wanted to ruin my night.”

“Hmm,” you hum, unconvinced but amused. “Well, I’m glad you’re here. It’s always fun seeing you outside your natural habitat. Like spotting a rare Pokémon.”

“Am I supposed to thank you for that?” he asks dryly, and you grin.

The two of you ease into conversation, the party blurring into background noise as you chat. Wonwoo listens intently, hanging onto your every word as if your voice alone could drown out the overwhelming din around him. He’s not even sure how much time has passed when you lean a little closer, the shift in your tone catching his attention.

“So,” you say, a conspiratorial grin tugging at your lips. “Do you have anyone you’re crushing on?”

He freezes. The words settle in his chest like a sudden, unsteady weight.

Does he? Of course, he does—you. But his brain stalls, caught between the truth and the absolute terror of saying it out loud. Instead of answering, he scrambles for something—anything—to say.

“I’m going to make an app,” he blurts out, the words tumbling from his mouth before he can stop them.

You blink, tilting your head. “An app?”

He nods, trying to steady his voice even though his heart feels like it’s about to burst. “Feelings confuse me. So I’m taking all the data I’ve collected and making an app to tell if someone’s interested. Algorithms are easier for me to understand, anyway.”

Your expression flickers between confusion and amusement before a slow smirk spreads across your face. “What data, Wonwoo?” you ask, setting your drink down and stepping closer.

His throat goes dry. “I—I didn’t mean—”

“Because if you’ve been collecting data,” you continue, your voice teasing as you close the distance between you, “I’d love to hear about it. What have you noticed?”

His pulse skyrockets as you reach for his hands, gently guiding them to rest on your waist. The warmth of your touch sends his mind spiraling, and for a moment, he forgets how to breathe. Your hands slide behind his neck, your fingers brushing against the sensitive skin there, and he feels like he’s standing on the edge of a cliff.

“I don’t know how much more obvious I could have been,” you murmur, your teasing tone softening into something warmer, more certain.

His mind blanks. He should say something—anything—but all he can do is stare at you, completely undone.

Then you lean in, your lips brushing against his, tentative at first, as if waiting for him to meet you halfway. And when he does—hesitant but earnest—you smile into the kiss, your fingers tangling gently in his hair, and it feels like the world stops spinning.

For Wonwoo, everything finally clicks.

It’s not a Venn diagram or a flowchart, and it doesn’t follow any logical formula, but it makes sense in a way he can’t explain. The way your hands fit behind his neck, the warmth of your body against his, the soft sigh that escapes you when his hands tighten on your waist—it’s all the proof he needs.

When you pull back, his head is spinning, but you’re still close, your breath mingling with his.

“So,” you say, your tone light but your eyes impossibly warm. “Do you still need that app?”

He chuckles softly, the sound unsteady but genuine. “No,” he admits, a small, shy smile tugging at his lips. “I think I’ve got all the data I need.”

You laugh, and the sound is music to his ears. For the first time in weeks—months, even—Wonwoo feels like he can stop overthinking, stop analyzing every little detail. He doesn’t need an algorithm, a chart, or a diagram to tell him what’s in front of him. Because some things don’t need to be solved.

Some things just need to be felt.

#seventeen fics #seventeen fluff #seventeen drabbles #svthub #wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo #jeon wonwoo x reader #seventeen wonwoo #keopihausnet #wonwoo fluff #seventeen imagines #seventeen x you #svt x reader #seventeen #tara writes #svt: jww #mansaenetwork #kvanity #thediamondlifenetwork

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mrsdarkandyandere7 · 3 months ago

Text

Permission Denied

Pairing: Dark Shouta "Eraserhead" Aizawa x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

SUMMARY: You’re bored – stuck inside the house while it’s sunny and nice outside. Aizawa doesn’t care about that.

WARNINGS: Implied Kidnapping; Captivity.

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback 😊

From your spot on the couch, you steal a glance at the black-haired man that sits on the table, surrounded by piles of paper. Midterm exams, he said.

It seems like a boring task, but Shouta doesn’t seem to mind. Unlike you, who’s getting restless by the minute.

There’s nothing for you to do.

Your hobbies are fairly limited, only granted when Shouta is feeling generous enough to notice your boredom, which hasn’t been the case lately.

He’s too busy between the Hero course class and patrols, which inevitably results in neglecting you. There are no new books for you to devour and the TV’s control remote is still “missing”.

The kitchen is off limits, which means no cooking or baking.

There’s nothing to do!

Perhaps you’re not being as sneaky as you believe yourself to be because Shouta’s suddenly looks up to meet your gaze, catching you off guard.

“If you have something to say, then spill it.”

You look at him, eyes still round with surprise.

“Well, I…” The words stammer when coming out and you tautly twist your hands. “I’m bored.”

Shouta looks at you.

“Yes, I have noticed.”

It’s a bit disheartening when he goes back to marking papers, leaving you at that.

“So…I don’t know. Maybe…I could go to the garden?”

He pauses his scribbling, and you rush to add, “I wouldn’t be alone, of course! You’d be there too, you could grade the papers on the outside table, right?”

His eyes are sharp when he looks back at you, the neutral expression on his face making it harder for you to decipher his true thoughts.

“I could.”

Your heart positively jumps at that, and almost fool yourself into believing that you’ve successfully convinced Shouta to do something for you. You’re wrong.

“But I won’t.” he denies your request just like that, barely batting an eye as he crushes down your hopes.

Feeling so upset over it makes you feel stupid, but then again, you haven’t left the four walls of Shouta’s home in weeks.

You’re so tired of being here, trapped in the bland ugly house. Tired of him and his insensitivity. Tired of the obnoxious boring routine that has been forced upon you. Tired of everything.

“Why not?” you burst, even if it comes out more as a demand.

Shouta’s eyebrows raise at the intensity of your words, and you inhale a small breath, calming yourself down.

“Why can’t I go outside?”

“Because at this moment I have a task at hand. I’m sure you can see that.”

"But I’ve been good. You said that yourself.” your nails leave half-moons in your palms, an attempt to keep your anger at bay. If there’s one thing you’ve learned over these past months is that Shouta doesn’t appreciate hysterical displays of frivolous emotions.

Useless and energy-consuming – that’s how he calls them.

“You have.” he pauses for a moment, tone slightly softer as he sets the pen down. “I’m not denying that. You have been exemplary these past weeks.”

Even when you don’t ask it, the question lingers in the tense air. Then why?

Aizawa answers it.

“It’s got nothing to do with your present behavior.” his reassurance does little to soothe your bubbling frustration. Aizawa seems to sense it, semblant turning somber and stern as he stares at you.

“However, my priority is your safety, not your happiness. Perhaps you still remember the last time you were allowed outside? Or of the … incident that occurred?”

He grimaces at that and so do you.

The incident meant the one-single time Aizawa took you on a late evening walk, where you ended up bumping into one of his neighbours – an overly enthusiastic blonde man – and in the moment of heat, you ended up taking the poor decision to reveal your hostage situation, hoping for help.

Only for said neighbour to turn out to be Aizawa’s close friend, someone Shouta had asked to test you.

Needless to say that you failed his loyalty test. Hence the house arrest.

You glance away from him, opting to ignore his question. Aizawa sighs, taking his sweet time cracking his neck from side to side.

“Like I was saying,” he resumes the conversation, “I’d prefer to reduce that sort of risk from the root. Perhaps one day, if your behavior remains ideal, we can have this discussion again – in a few months.”

Aizawa looks at you with red-streaked eyes, taking notice of your well-concealed frustration as well as blatantly ignoring it.

Picking up the pen, he continues to correct the papers, marking the end of your little discussion and leaving no space for argument.

Leaving you back in the reign of boredom.

#@mrsdarkandyandere7 #yandere x reader #tw: yandere #tw: dark content #yandere bnha #yandere mha #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere my hero academia #yandere x you #yandere aizawa #yandere aizawa x reader #aizawa x reader #yandere eraserhead #yandere eraserhead x reader #yandere shouta aizawa

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nexysworld · 19 days ago

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Summary: You accidentally call the hottest professor on campus Daddy. Total slip of the tongue—nerves, exhaustion, whatever! At least, that’s what you tell yourself. Unfortunately that same professor can't seem to let it go.

Pairing: Professor!Satoru Gojo x Fem! Reader Tags: NSFW, Smut, Power Imbalance, professor x student relationship, cream pie, Unprotected Sex, Daddy Kink, spanking, mild Dubcon, Wordcount: 3.6k

Note: This is dedicated to the wonderful @dollfacefantasy. <3

𝙰𝚜𝚔 𝙱𝚘𝚡 • 𝙰𝙾3 • 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚜 & 𝙼𝚘𝚛𝚎

The idle tapping of keys and scribbling of notes was all you could focus on. Midterms had been brutal, even for the easiest classes, leaving you an overstimulated, exhausted mess. All you wanted was to go home and sleep.

With drooping eyelids, you tried to make out the equations on the board, wondering—not for the first time—why the hell you thought taking an 8 a.m. class with Professor Satoru Gojo was even remotely a good idea. The man never shut up, spouting every thought that popped into his head, whether it related to the lesson or not. Worse, he was strict as hell when it came to grading and gave out more homework than any other professor. He’d mark you for any and every technical error he could. Semantics? He was the king of them.

And yet, he was the most popular professor at the university. Students practically lined up just for the chance to talk to him.

Why?

Because he was hot.

You weren’t any better—jumping on the opportunity to take his class the moment your advisor suggested it. And yeah, he really was as attractive as everyone said. You hadn’t noticed it much at first, too focused on your studies and making sure you passed.

But now? Now, in your half-conscious state, hand going numb as it propped up your head, you found yourself zoning in on him. He was all shaggy silver hair, the unruly spikes bouncing with his overly animated movements. His blue eyes—only half-hidden behind those thick black sunglasses—that glinted with mischief. His button-up was undone just enough to be distracting, sleeves shoved past his elbows, chalk tapping against the board at an almost inhuman speed. The white undershirt clung just right, and you knew there was a lean, gym physique hiding under there.

And that voice.

That perfect blend of hubris and sarcasm made even the dullest topics weirdly entertaining. The constant teasing, the smug witticisms—they should’ve been irritating. But instead, they just sounded way too good falling off his lips.

Your imagination drifted, slipping past the appropriate as your dreary eyes began to shut on their own. Your head floated off into a fantasy…

Until his voice cut through it like a lightning strike on a sunny day.

“Alright, who wants to solve this?” Gojo’s voice rang out, irritatingly cheerful.

Silence. No one was dumb enough to volunteer this early in the morning.

“How about you, sleepyhead?” he singsonged, striding across the room until he was uncomfortably close to your vicinity.

Your half-conscious brain barely registered that someone was speaking to you, dredging up an automated response.

“Uh…what?”

Satoru grinned. “Solve the equation, silly.” He tapped the chalk against the desk a few times before pointing behind him at the board.

Your brain—still half-in fantasyland and woefully unprepared to function under pressure—short-circuited. Before you could stop yourself, the words tumbled out:

“Yes, Daddy.”

The silence was deafening. You could hear your own heartbeat thrumming in your ears, counting the seconds as they passed.

Someone choked on their coffee. A few others barely stifled laughter.

Gojo froze. Then, slowly, a devilish grin stretched across his face, adjusting his sunglasses allowing them to slide down the bridge of his nose.

“Oh?” His voice dripped with amusement. “Did you just—? Well, that’s a first.”

Your soul left your body.

“I—I meant Professor! Professor Gojo!”

“Nah, nah, you can’t take it back now. You sounded pretty confident.”

You wanted to die. Right here, right now. But of course, Gojo wasn’t done. He propped his chin on his hand, leaning way too close.

“You know, I always had the feeling I was the favorite Professor, but this really confirms it.”

“Please, just let me do the question,” you begged, desperate for a change of subject. You could feel the eyes of the entire class burning into you, like a spotlight had opened from the heavens. You only wished you could manifest a cartoon hole in the floor instead.

“Alright, alright,” he finally relented, straightening up and turning back toward the board. “Let’s focus, everyone. But—” he cast a glance over his shoulder, smirking, “if anyone else feels the need to work through their daddy issues or nap in my class, just know you’ll be joining your friend here for office hours. Extra credit mandatory.”

His voice was uncharacteristically serious when he spoke those last words, making your stomach flip. Then, just as quickly, he slipped right back into his usual tone. “Or maybe I’ll just refer you to my buddy in the psych department.” He tapped the chalk against the board, already writing out a new equation, having given up on the first. “I hear he loves a good case study.”

Laughter erupted.

You buried your face in your hands.

Being assigned to Gojo’s office hours as a punishment for sleeping and then subsequently calling him Daddy? That had to be illegal. Or at least against some ethical code. Then again, you were pretty sure they didn’t cover “verbal humiliation and unintentional kinks” in the student handbook, but here you were anyway, making the walk of shame to his office.

Anxiety had been twisting you apart since the incident, not giving you the chance to focus on anything the rest of the day beyond the horrible humiliation you’d be suffering the rest of your college life. The idea of now being in a confined space with the very same professor had you nauseous.

All you could do was hope—beg, pray, manifest—that he’d be professional. Maybe hand you some extracurricular worksheet or a math problem set and let you go in peace.

“Right on time,” Gojo said, leaning forward on his desk. His voice dripped with amusement, and the smile stretching across his face was so smug it bordered on evil. “I admire punctuality.”

You stifled a groan and dropped into the farthest chair across from him without looking at him. “Can we just get this over with?”

“Straight to business?” he clicked his tongue. “Cold. I thought we had something special,” he teased. “I can respect it though.” he slid a blank paper across the table along with a shitty yellow pencil—the cheap kind you’d get from the dollar store. You stared at it, before finally meeting his gaze.

“You going to make me write lines or something?”

“Not quite. I want you to write an essay on your feelings.”

“…you’re a math teacher.”

“Professor,” he corrected. “Let’s use the right titles. We wouldn’t want any casual slip-ups like earlier.”

“Ok well…I can do this at home. Can’t I just turn it in to you tomorrow?”

“Nice try,” he said, leaning back and kicking his feet up on the desk. “But this is a punishment. Office hours are mandatory when you call your professor Daddy mid-lecture and then pass out like we’re in daycare.”

His words dredged up some existential dread at the memory. “It was a slip! I was half-asleep…”

“Mmhm.” He was chuckling now. “It’s fine. I’m flattered, really. Just didn’t expect math to bring out someone’s kinky awakening. But that’s what college is for, I guess.”

You opened your mouth to quip something back at him, but the words caught in your throat. When you finally met his gaze, unhidden by the sunglasses he normally wore—you saw it. It was uncanny, unlocking some mental paranoia, like he already had your next 10 moves planned.

“Will you quit staring? It’s like you’re enjoying my humiliation. Just…let me write the essay in peace.” Normally you’d never have the nerve to be so bold with authority, but given your slip up early and the fact your humiliation couldn’t get any worse, it had you emboldened. You were white knuckling the pencil, fairly sure it would snap under your grip any moment.

“You’re not exactly making it easy not to,” he replied, tilting his head. “You’re flustered, it’s cute. Ah whoops, guess I’m not supposed to say that, am I?”

“I’m mortified, actually.”

“Even cuter.”

His words had your whole face flushed, the feverish embarrassment burning down to your shoulders. It throws you off kilter completely. Was he flirting with you? No way, it had to just be some sick way for him to mock you. The essay felt like an insurmountable task, the blank paper mocking you as well daring you to put something on the page.

You started scribbling something onto the paper, trying to keep your focus away from him—away from the tension in the air. But every time your pencil moved, you could feel his eyes on you. Watching. You made a mental note to report him after this.

“What kind of essay even is this?” you asked, unable to handle the silence. “Feelings? About what?”

“About me, obviously,” he said without missing a beat. “Or how about the shame and complicated emotions tied up in calling your professor ‘Daddy’ in front of the entire 8AM lecture hall. Plenty of material there.”

“That’s—” you started, but couldn’t even finish the sentence without dying a little inside. “Why do you keep having to bring it up? It’s not funny.”

“It’s kind of funny,” Gojo said. “I mean, I’ve had students call me all sorts of things—sensei, sir, even boss once, which was weird—but never that.” His voice dipped lower. “Never daddy.”

The pencil lead snapped under the pressure of your hand, digging a hole into the paper and leaving a mark on the wood beneath.

He whistled, clearly amused. “Wow, strong grip. You always this tense, or is it just me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Too late. I’m already blushing.”

Not wanting to feed into whatever the hell was happening, you decided it was in your best interest to not reply. Instead, you sharpened the pencil and focused again on the essay scribbling nonsense onto the page to at least look productive. At the very least you hoped he would just get bored enough to let you go without reading it. He could yell at you tomorrow for bullshitting, or better yet, you both could have a chat in the Dean’s office.

Unfortunately, Satoru Gojo didn’t like being ignored.

“I bet,” he started, spinning a pen between his fingers, his expensive looking wristwatch jangling with the movement, “if I asked you to say it again, you’d do it.”

Your eyes shot up to him, but he didn’t give you the chance to reply as he continued. “It’s probably just sitting right there on the tip of your tongue. Ready to slip out again, given the chance.”

“Why are you doing this? Is this how you treat all your students?”

“Nope,” he replied lazily. “Just the ones who blush so pretty when I tease them.”

You gawked at him, unable to form a single cohesive thought. You should have walked out after telling him off. Reported him the second your foot hit the doorway. Instead, you didn’t move, held in place by an invisible force.

He took that opportunity to close the distance between you by leaning over the desk, invading your personal space. Your senses processed the too-rich cologne and the mishmashed hues of white and blue that made up his form. His thumb ran over your bottom lip. “You want me to stop?”

“I uhmm…uh,” you responded, barely coherent.

“Not much of an answer. Really gotta work on those listening skills, sweetheart. Tell ya what, let’s make it easier.” He brushed his nose against your jaw, making you swallow air. “If you don’t want this, say ‘Professor.’ Loud and clear and I’ll stop. But if you do…I wanna hear you call me Daddy again.”

You couldn’t remember what it was like to speak, electricity ran through every nerve, dancing beneath your skin. Maybe a more sober version of yourself would have been smart enough to reject him. But he was so close and so tempting.

“…Daddy,” you whispered, so quiet not even a fly on the wall would’ve heard the word.

“Good girl.”

The praise made you giddy, like a pampered puppy. In a second his lips were connected to yours. They were warm, far softer than expected and a little sticky from the chapstick he always wore.

He cradled your jaw, tilting your head to deepen the kiss as he leaned further over the desk. The forgotten essay paper slipping off the desk and falling to the floor, the pencil clattering along with it. Your fingers gripped the chair arms like a lifeline, keeping you grounded.

He pulled back just enough to let you breathe. If he was as affected as you were, it didn’t show. His lips brushed against yours again as he spoke. “Still with me, sweetheart?”

You nodded, dazed, lips tingling. You wondered if he could hear how loud your heartbeat was in the silence of his office.

He chuckled, low and evil. “Then be a good girl again and go lock the door.”

Without hesitation you slipped out of the chair and despite your wobbly legs, managed to make your way over, pulling the shade over the window and clicking the press-on lock. When you turned around he was back in his chair, patting the desk in front of him. “Hop up.”

The wood was too hard and uncomfortable against your thighs, but you ignored it—far too focused on the man sitting beneath you. His slacks were tenting with his own arousal, spiky locks of snow wilder than usual.

His hands found your hips, fingers hooking into the waistband of your bottoms. “You look nervous. Having second thoughts?”

You shook your head quickly—too quickly.

“Words, sweetheart,” he chided.

“N-no, I’m fine.”

“You’re fine what?” He pressed, white brow raised.

“I’m fine, Daddy,” you replied, the word making you burn with embarrassment all over again.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he said, letting his fingers tug the fabric down. You lifted your hips and kicked off your shoes to help him with his task. The frigid air of the office felt strange against your bareness, intensifying the growing need between your legs.

“Now, just so we’re clear,” he began. “This is still punishment...so rude of you to fall asleep in my class, after I work hard to keep it interesting.” Lithe fingers found their way between your legs and before you could question what he meant, he gave a light slap to your exposed pussy.

You gasped, more in surprise than pain, your thighs instinctively pressing together. He smirked, clearly enjoying your reaction as his hand pressed against your thigh to spread them again. He stood so he could catch your lips in another kiss, two fingers dragging through your folds, stopping only to rub soft circles around your clit.

“Bend over for me,” he commanded, pulling back. He helped you slide off the desk, letting you bend over the oakwood, leaving your lower half spread and exposed to him. You couldn’t believe you were doing this, or how good that agonizing sense of humiliation felt. He stood behind you, silent for a moment—long enough for the anticipation to start chewing at your nerves.

“Look at you,” he spoke, voice laced with amusement. “Didn’t even hesitate to listen.”

You couldn’t see him, but you heard the sound of his chair before feeling his warm breath on your most sensitive lips.

“Beautiful even down here,” he whistled again. You throbbed with aroused anticipation. His hand came down against your bare bottom, the sound of skin striking skin echoed in the small room before the blooming sting set in. It wasn’t unbearable, in fact, you were surprised that you liked the way it felt. Then his hand came down again, striking your other cheek, making you yelp.

“I’m not hearing any apologies,” he teased, as he pressed a kiss to your reddened skin before spanking you again.

“A-ah, I’m sorry f-for falling asleep,” you squeaked.

“Mmm I think that apology is missing something,” he added, marveling at the handprints forming against your skin.

“‘M sorry D-daddy.”

“That’s better.” He gave you one last slap, lighter than the others. “So wet already too, fuck.” He groaned, delving in and dragging his tongue against your clit, swirling the tip around it. Your brain went blank—only able to focus on the heat he was pulling from your core with the pink muscle. The sounds were wet and sloppy. He ate you out shamelessly, barely taking a break to even breathe.

His hands gripped your plush cheeks, spreading them to get more leverage.

Your toes curled, moaning as you resisted the urge to grind back against his face—somehow still trying to keep some level of self-preservation. Even still, you couldn’t remember if anyone had ever been this good, unraveling you so fast it gave you whiplash.

Two fingers pumped inside of you, pressing against that inner most sensitive spot. Between that and his mouth sucking your clit, you came undone, legs kicking out as spots peppered your vision.

“D-daddy, daddy n-no more,” you whined as he continued to tease you.

He pulled away, giving you a moment to collect yourself. By the sound of his own panting, it was clear he was now equally as worked up. The metal of his belt clanked behind you and he groaned.

“Damn, you’re seriously hot.” You heard drawers opening and closing behind you. “You on the pill, sweetheart? ‘Cause I don’t think I’ve got any condoms on me—oops.”

“Yes,” you replied, pushing yourself up. He spun you to face him, pulling you down into his lap. His button up had been discarded, leaving only the white undershirt. By his arms alone you could tell you had been right in assuming he was secretly fit, and curiously you wanted to know what else was underneath.

His cock was free, pressing against his clothed stomach—pale with an angrily flushed tip, perfectly sized—it made your mouth water with want.

Daringly, your hand came up to the cotton fabric and tugged on it. He got the hint, slipping it over his head and tossing it to the floor. He was all lean muscle and angles.

“Your turn,” he grinned, fingers hooking into your top. “Don’t leave me all exposed and bashful now.”

You lifted your arms, letting him slide your shirt off. He managed to catch your bra with it, both items tossed somewhere in the small office room. His inhumanly blue eyes were fixated on your chest, hands coming to massage them between his hands. You squirmed in his lap, earning a moan in return.

“You want me to fuck you?” He asked plainly, and the sinfulness of the words had you worked up again.

“Yes, please.”

“Ask me properly.”

“Please Daddy, I want you to fuck me.”

In a swift motion he had you flat against the desk again, his shaft rubbing through your wet folds a few times before sliding in. The stretch was delicious, making you feel full instantly. Your arms wrapped around him, legs around his waist, clinging to him as he rocked his hips into you. Every thrust was quick and rough but tantalizing. His mouth found yours as you devolved into a mess of sloppy kisses as his hips continued to meet the skin of your ass and thighs.

“Feels so good Daddy,” you moaned, head falling back. “So big…”

“Shit, you take it so well,” he praised. “Good…fucking…girl…” he groaned, changing the pace. His thrusts were faster but more shallow, no longer pulling all the way out each time—preferring to stay buried in you. When his movements lost their rhythm, he came with a shudder, sucking the skin on your collar bone, forming a purple mark.

He pulled back when he was done, catching his own breath—a sight to behold, panting above you, white bits of hair sticking to his forehead. His eyes were lidded, shadowed by thick white lashes. You wondered how many people had been lucky enough to see this.

Without thinking, you pulled him back down into a kiss. He obliged your desires, returning the affection, until there was a knock at the door.

“Satoru, are you still here this late? If so—” the sound of professor Geto’s voice rang through the door freezing you beneath the older man.

As if sensing your panic, Gojo laughed quietly and held a finger up to his lips before motioning for you to get dressed.

“Suguru, hey, still here. Guess I must’ve passed out at my desk. Hold up, give me a sec,” he replied before hastily zipping his pants, and feeling around the floor for his own shirt.

“Wait 5 minutes, once I’m out the door. Then you can sneak out past me,” he said, quickly buttoning his wrinkled shirt and batting his hair.

You nodded, half-dressed, working to pull your top back on.

Gojo made his way to the door, slipping out as he greeted his fellow professor. Before the two of them walked off, you swore you heard Geto mention something about an “interesting choice of nap partner, Satoru.” Not willing to stick around and deal with the consequences, you followed his instructions—waiting five minutes until the voices faded, then quickly gathering your things and slipping down the hall.

Your phone buzzed, an unknown number flashing on the screen. You opened the message once outside:

‘Sorry for cutting it short, but don’t worry about Suguru. He’s not about to rat me out. Just… don’t fall asleep again unless you’re begging for Daddy to give you round two. 😉’

You groaned at the text but found yourself already typing a reply. You weren’t sure how far you wanted to take this, but you definitely weren’t planning on letting it end now.

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margindoodles2407 · 5 months ago

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have some maul doodles. they're hfsw because why not

may i dedicate these to you

#margin doodles #midterm scribblings #hfsw #maul is a drama queen #obes kenobes #he's a silly guy that maul

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surreal-duck · 27 days ago

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prayer (alt under cut)

#duck scribbles #alien stage #alnst #mizi #sua #mizisua #blood tw #trying not 2 think abt midterms tomorrow i think im royally screwed

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jburrgf · 2 months ago

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Champagne Coast, JOE BURROW.

“Finishing 8 or 9, tell me what’s the perfect time. I told you i’ll be waiting hiding from the rainfall.”

◦pairing: ¡long hair!joe x ¡college student!reader

◦summary: fwb, no attachment relationship, attachment problems, forbidden type of love. +18 readers only!

◦description: academic pleasure is your thing, and that means that you put nothing over your education. literally nothing. but when a long-haired football player that just got transferred from the north just pops in front of you, it’s too hard to say no to him.

◦n/a: i’m doing this for my latina girlies (like me! <3). she has curly hair and slightly tanned skin.

Mornings were always the hardest.

Not because I wasn’t a morning person—I was, to some extent—but because they reminded me of how much I had to do and how little time I had to waste.

My alarm went off at 6:30 a.m. sharp, vibrating against the nightstand with a persistence I could never ignore. I didn’t allow myself to hit snooze. I couldn’t afford to. Instead, I threw the covers off, stretched until my spine cracked, and made my way to the tiny bathroom in my apartment, eyes barely open as I turned on the sink.

The mirror reflected my exhaustion back at me. Dark circles had made a home under my eyes, the evidence of another night spent hunched over my laptop, working through notes, assignments, and emails.

I brushed my teeth, washed my face, and tied my hair back into a loose ponytail before heading to the kitchen. Breakfast was always a rushed affair—black coffee, a piece of toast if I wasn’t running late. Today, I had just enough time to spread some butter over it and let the warmth seep into my fingertips before taking a bite.

As I stood there, leaning against the counter, I flipped open my planner, its pages filled with neatly written notes, deadlines, and reminders. Between classes, assignments, and shifts at my internship, every minute of my day was accounted for.

But today felt different.

Excitement buzzed under my skin as my eyes skimmed over a note I had scribbled down the night before: New project meeting – 2 PM.

My internship had been one of the best things about this year. It was demanding, sure, but it gave me a sense of purpose. The chance to work on something real, something tangible. And today, I was finally getting assigned to a project I had been hoping for.

I double-checked the details, making a mental note to grab an extra coffee before the meeting. If I was going to impress them, I needed to be on my A-game.

After slipping into a pair of jeans and pulling on a navy-blue sweater, I slung my bag over my shoulder and stepped outside. The crisp morning air bit at my cheeks, the sky a soft, muted blue, but I barely had time to appreciate it. My days ran on a tight schedule, and I had no room to fall behind.

The walk to campus was second nature by now. I moved on autopilot, weaving through streets and past coffee shops, my earbuds in, music humming softly as I mentally prepared myself for the day ahead.

By the time I made it to the library, my coffee was already half gone, but the caffeine was finally kicking in. I settled into a seat by the window, pulling out my laptop and opening the file I had started last night. I had about an hour before my first class—plenty of time to go over my notes, make sure I hadn’t missed anything.

This was my routine.

And I liked it this way, but today, my friends had another plan. Rachel and Nathan have been keeping me busy about every single gossip on this campus, and the new one was The transferred quarterback from Ohio State. And of course, the whole campus needed to celebrate.

I wasn’t planning on going to the party that night. It was the kind of LSU house party that smelled like cheap beer and desperation, packed with sweaty, screaming students all trying to forget their midterms or bad decisions. But my roommate, Rachel, had another plan.

A few hours earlier, I had been sitting in my psychology class, half-listening as the professor droned on about the power of love in humanity. It was some philosophical tangent about how emotions, particularly love, played a crucial role in human development and scientific progress. I struggled not to roll my eyes. Love, to me, had always been a concept romanticized beyond its worth. Sure, it made for great literature, but I had never been convinced that it held any real power beyond that.

When class finally ended, I packed up my things and headed to the campus diner, where Rachel and a few other friends were already gathered in a booth, their laughter rising above the chatter of the busy place. Jess, my best guy friend Nate, and his roommate Lucas were already deep in conversation when I slid into the seat beside Rachel, who immediately pushed a menu toward me.

"Are you actually eating or just here to mope about your long, miserable week?" she teased.

"Neither," I replied, scanning the menu without interest. "I just need a drink."

"That’s the spirit!" Jess cheered, raising her iced coffee like it was something stronger.

"So, you’re coming to the party tonight?" Lucas asked, drumming his fingers against the table.

I sighed. "Yeah, but I’m not really in the mood for it. I just need to blow off some steam."

"That’s what parties are for," Rachel said. "Besides, have you heard about the new transfer? Joe Burrow?"

Jess wiggled her eyebrows. "Apparently, he’s not just good. He’s supposed to be the guy. Like, NFL material."

Nate scoffed, leaning back against the booth. "Everyone’s acting like he’s a god or something. He’s just another quarterback."

I shrugged, uninterested. "I’m sure he’s good at what he does, but that doesn’t mean he’s obnoxious."

Rachel smirked. "So, you’re saying he’s just a great professional player who happens to be really good?"

"Pretty much. I don’t get why everyone acts like he’s the second coming or something."

"Because he might actually be," Jess said with a dramatic sigh. "And you, my dear, are going to meet him tonight."

Nate chuckled. "Yeah, maybe you two can talk about quantum physics and see if he can keep up."

I rolled my eyes, but I knew there was no escaping it now. The party was happening, and whether I liked it or not, Joe Burrow was about to become part of my night.

[…]

I got to the party slightly late. My friends were already over there, bouncing over songs that we used to listen to together and talking louder above the speakers. To me, that was irritating. I love parties, but after a long week of work, the last thing I wanted to do is partying all night on a friday.

The music thumped through the walls, a steady, pulsing beat that rattled through my ribs as I wove through the crowd, my plastic cup clutched loosely in my fingers. I wasn’t even sure what was in it anymore—some neon-colored mix of whatever they had at the bar—but I had taken exactly two sips and decided I didn’t need more.

I was about to turn around when a voice cut through the noise.

“You’ve been standing there for a while.”

I looked up.

I turned, expecting one of my friends, but instead, I was met with someone unfamiliar. He was tall—really tall—with messy blond hair that fell over his forehead, and sharp features that the dim lighting only made more defined. His sweatshirt hung loose on his frame, sleeves pushed to his elbows like he had just come from somewhere else, and the cup in his hand was barely touched.

“I was just—” I hesitated, glancing at the dance floor. “People-watching.”

A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Yeah? Anything interesting?”

“Not really,” I admitted. “Just the usual: drunk freshmen, a couple making out in the corner, a guy who’s definitely going to regret that keg stand tomorrow.”

"You don’t look like you’re having fun," he said, his voice cutting through the noise of the party.

I raised a brow. “And you’ve been watching me?”

He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “I just noticed. Everyone else is either dancing, drinking, or trying to do both at the same time. You, though? You’re just… here.”

I huffed, half amused. “I guess I’m not very good at parties.”

He lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “Nothing wrong with that.”

I turned my head, surprised he was talking to me. "That’s because I’m not."

He smirked. "Then why are you here?"

"Peer pressure."

"Same."

I looked at him, doubtful. "I find that hard to believe. Isn’t this your crowd?"

He shook his head. "Not really. I’m still figuring out who my crowd is here."

I hummed in response, not sure I believed him. He was too comfortable, too effortless in the way he carried himself.

"What’s your major?" he asked.

"Psychology," I replied. "And you?"

"Consumer and family financial services.”

I raised a brow. "That’s oddly specific."

He chuckled. "Yeah. I like numbers."

"So, you’re actually smart?" The words slipped out before I could stop them.

“But I’m here cause of football.”

I raised a brow. “Of course, you do.”

He chuckled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

I shrugged. “You have that whole… football player look.”

He looked vaguely amused. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Not necessarily.” I took a sip of my drink. “I just feel like I already know your whole deal.”

Joe leaned in slightly, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “Yeah? And what’s my deal?”

I pretended to think. “Cocky, thinks he’s smarter than he is, probably way too competitive.”

“You don’t know me at all. He laughed, a deep, genuine sound that made something flicker in my chest. He stepped closer, but at a safe distance "I like to think I'm smart. Want to test me?"

I leaned against the counter, intrigued. "Alright, what’s the capital of Lithuania?"

"Vilnius."

I blinked, impressed but unwilling to show it. "Okay, what’s the powerhouse of the cell?"

"Mitochondria. Come on, give me a hard one."

I bit my lip, thinking. "Fine. Who wrote ‘Pride and Prejudice’?"

He didn’t even hesitate. "Jane Austen."

My mouth parted slightly. "Huh."

He grinned. "Not what you expected?"

"Not even close."

He tilted his head, studying me. His blue eyes went all over me, starting at my face and getting down all over my body. "What about me gave you the impression I wasn’t smart?"

I hesitated, but he was looking at me with genuine curiosity. "The hoodie, the wristbands, the fact that this house is a frat-football house. And, no offense, but most guys like you care more about throwing balls than reading books."

He let out a breathy laugh. "Fair enough. But I promise you, I’m more than that."

I found myself wanting to believe him.

“Oh, I bet.”

The night stretched on, and we kept talking. The party faded into the background. He told me about growing up in Ohio, about transferring to LSU for a fresh start. I told him about my dream of being a psychologist, working with kids was my whole goal.

At some point, we ended up outside on the porch, sitting on the steps as the humid Louisiana night wrapped around us. I hadn’t realized how much time had passed until my phone buzzed with a text from Rachel: "Where r u???"

I looked at him, his hair messy from the night, his blue eyes watching me like I was the most interesting thing in the world.

"I should go," I said reluctantly.

He nodded, but there was something in his expression that made my pulse skip. "I’ll see you around?

I hesitated, then smiled. "Yeah. See you around."

As I walked away, I felt his gaze linger. And for the first time in a long time, I wondered if maybe, just maybe, I had been wrong about people like him.

[…]

The city buzzed with the hum of conversation and the scent of freshly brewed coffee as we walked the familiar route to our usual spot. The sun had begun its slow descent, painting the sky in warm hues of orange and pink. It was the kind of late afternoon that felt like a soft exhale after a long day, the air thick with the scent of summer and distant laughter from students scattered across the campus.

Rachel, Jess, Nate, Lucas, and I had just wrapped up another draining day—classes, internships, and the slow crawl toward graduation looming over us like a deadline we weren’t ready to meet.

"I swear, if I have to listen to one more professor drone on about case studies, I might actually drop out," Rachel groaned as she linked her arm with Jess’s.

"You say that every semester," Nate teased, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.

"And yet, here I am. A survivor," Rachel shot back, flipping her hair dramatically.

I trailed slightly behind, exhaustion weighing on my shoulders. My internship at the counseling center had been particularly draining today. A few tough sessions had left me with more questions than answers, the complexities of the human mind unraveling in ways I hadn't yet learned how to piece back together.

"I don't know how you do it, Y/N," Lucas said, as if reading my mind. "Listening to people’s problems all day would drive me insane."

I smirked. "That’s kind of the point. Psychology is about understanding people, not just fixing them."

"Yeah, yeah," he waved. "Just remind me never to tell you my problems."

We finally reached the café, a cozy little corner of campus life where we had spent countless hours avoiding responsibilities. The scent of espresso and fresh pastries welcomed us as we pushed through the doors, greeted by the comforting hum of low conversation and the occasional clatter of dishes.

Sliding into our usual booth by the window, we settled in, each of us instinctively knowing our roles in the ordering process. Rachel and Jess debated over which overpriced latte to get, while Nate and Lucas argued about football stats neither of them would remember in an hour. I, meanwhile, busied myself scrolling through my phone, half-listening to their conversation.

That’s when the notification popped up.

A follow request.

Joe Burrow.

I frowned slightly, the name unfamiliar for only a second before my memory caught up. Joe Burrow, the new player. Why was he texting me like that?

And then, a message.

“Finally found you. Do you know how hard it was to track you down?"

I blinked, confused.

Then another message appeared.

"It’s Joe—the guy you thought was dumb. We met at the party last Saturday."

The guy I met at the party.

Joe Burrow, the quarterback.

The transferred dude and the new quarterback were the same person.

My stomach did a weird little flip. I had spent the entire night talking to him, intrigued by the way he had effortlessly thrown back every challenge I gave him. I had walked away thinking I’d never see him again.

And yet, here he was.

I stared at the screen, my mind racing with possibilities.

"Earth to Y/N?" Jess’s voice broke through my thoughts.

I looked up, realizing they were all staring at me.

"Who’s got you looking like you just saw a ghost?" Rachel asked, sipping her drink.

I hesitated, my fingers hovering over my phone.

"No one," I said, too quickly.

But the smirk on Rachel’s face told me she wasn’t buying it.

And truthfully? Neither was I.

I stared at my screen, my heart pounding for reasons I couldn’t explain.

And he texted me again.

"So, did I pass your intelligence test?"

#joe burrow #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow fan fic #joeburrow #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow fluff #joe burrow x reader #bengals #joe burrow smut

325 notes · View notes

bamgyuuuri · 3 months ago

Text

⸝⸝ please? ┈ csb.

⸝⸝ ABSORBED in your studies, you could barely even spare soobin an ounce of your time, leaving him fighting and desperate for your attention. but when an idea strikes, perhaps the two of you can find a way to make it work after all.

pairings and tags. smut!! mdni!! fwb!soobin x afab!reader . sub!soobin . cockwarming . soobin's really whiny . hella begging . slowburn smut . teasing . handjob . edging . reader calls soobin "bunny" . soobin calls reader "miss" . shes highkey mean and he's highkey into it . slight brat taming . lmk if i missed any!

word count. 5.7k

short note ... surprise surprise! so ermmm i tried to . write smut again !!$% idk,, i think i went too far with the "slowburn" part T_T plz do let me know what you think !!!

midterms were creeping closer, and so here you were, slumped over your desk as if the weight of your endless notes, both digital and handwritten, had pinned you in place. the dim light of your laptop cast long shadows across the pages, highlighting every scribbled word and underlined phrase.

your back ached, your legs were numb from sitting too long, and the faint buzz of fatigue pressed against your temples. still, none of it was enough to pull you away. the thought of a failing grade lingered like a dark cloud, pushing you to study harder, longer, and with a desperation you couldn’t ignore.

you were so deeply engrossed in rewriting your notes that everything else seemed to fall away. the steady hum of traffic outside your window and the occasional creak of the house barely registered.

your phone sat beside you on the desk, its screen lighting up over and over, but you didn’t notice. messages stacked one after another, calls came and went, and still, you didn’t even spare it a glance. the name on the screen was always the same—soobin. he didn’t stop, his persistence evident in the flurry of notifications that went unanswered.

but what actually managed to pull you out of your trance was the sudden, sharp knock on your door. the sound echoed through the quiet room, startling you enough to make your head whip towards it, breaking your focus entirely.

for a moment, you just stared, your brows knitting together as you tried to figure out who it could possibly be at this hour. letting out a small sigh, you pushed back your chair and stood, the stiffness in your legs reminding you just how long you’d been sitting. slowly, you made your way to the door, dragging your feet a little as exhaustion clung to you.

when you opened it, the last person you expected to see was soobin himself.

but there he was, standing in front of you with an expression that was both determined and oddly relieved. before you could even ask why he was here, his hands found your waist, pushing you back into your dorm then pulling you close in one swift motion. and the next thing you knew, his lips were on yours in a kiss so sudden and eager that it left you completely stunned.

your eyes widened comically as your brain scrambled to process what was happening. the warmth of his hands on your waist and the familiar scent of him were almost enough to make you forget everything, but the shock won out. “soobin...!” you managed to squeak, breaking away as you placed your hands on his chest, pushing him back gently but firmly.

you quickly closed the door behind you, leaning against it as you stared at him with a mixture of disbelief and annoyance. your glare wasn’t particularly intimidating—he was clearly unfazed—but you tried anyway. “dude, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” you hissed, your voice low but sharp enough to convey your frustration.

soobin, though momentarily surprised by your rejection, let out a long, exaggerated sigh before trying to close the distance between you once more. “don’t call me ‘dude,’ we literally just kissed. now, where were we—” his voice dripped with teasing charm as he leaned in again, his confidence seemingly unshaken.

before his lips could meet yours, you placed your hands firmly on his shoulders, stopping him mid-movement. your face twisted into a clear expression of annoyance, and you pushed back slightly, glaring at him. “hey, cut it out! i’m not in the mood to mess around right now!” your tone was sharp, though tinged with the frustration of someone desperately trying to focus.

soobin only laughed, the sound soft and infuriatingly carefree. ignoring your protests, he gently pried your hands from his shoulders and brought them down, his palms quickly finding their way to your cheeks.

his thumbs brushed lightly over your skin, the warmth of his touch almost making you falter. “you can’t be serious,” he murmured, his voice dipping into a whisper as his gaze locked onto yours. “you’re never not in the mood for this.” with that, he leaned in again, his intentions clear and unwavering.

but this cannot happen, not right now, at least. the thought hit you like a splash of cold water as you wriggled out of his hold, stepping back and shaking your head. why was he suddenly acting so clingy? “i-i’m being serious...! don’t you have exams to study for too?” you stammered, desperate to regain some semblance of control over the situation.

soobin tilted his head slightly, his expression softening for a brief moment before his lips curled into a mischievous smile. “i studied enough before coming over,” his voice trailed off as his gaze darkened, a hint of something unreadable flashing through his eyes.

stepping forward, he grabbed your wrist firmly, his hold just tight enough to send a jolt through you. “besides, i thought you loved spending time with me,” he added, his voice low and smooth as he pulled you closer with little effort.

though his actions might have left you breathless on another day, all you could do now was roll your eyes. “oh, please. just because we’re fuckbuddies doesn’t mean you get to barge into my place and disrupt me from my studies,” you shot back, your tone dripping with exasperation.

that’s right. that was the setup with soobin—fuckbuddies, friends with benefits, casual partners, whatever label you chose to slap on it. it was simple, uncomplicated, no strings attached. there were no expectations, no deep feelings, just two people who enjoyed each other’s company and a good fuck when the mood struck.

it was supposed to be easy, a little escape from the chaos of everyday life, a way to blow off steam without any pressure. at least, that’s what you told yourself when you both agreed to it.

but right now? you were anything but relaxed. you were deep into studying, drowning in deadlines, and the last thing you needed was him barging into your space and pulling you away from your studies.

soobin laughs at your attempts to brush him off, his chuckle light and teasing as he leans in closer, his eyes glinting with mischief. “you know you want it too, don’t be a hypocrite.” his words were enough to make you feel a wave of heat rush to your face, though you’re not sure if it's from embarrassment or frustration.

before you can say anything else, he pulls you into his arms with surprising gentleness. you can feel his heartbeat, rapid and strong against your chest, as if the closeness between you both made him as eager as you’d ever seen him. soobin leans closer, his lips hovering just a breath away from yours.

but just as you thought he was about to kiss you, he pulls back, turning on his heel and heading towards your bedroom. you’re left standing there, your hand still outstretched, his absence already making the air feel colder. but he then tugs on your hand, dragging you along with him.

the moment you both enter, you pull your hand away from his grasp, feeling the weight of your exhaustion settle in. “soobin, please. i really need to study. i can’t—you know how i feel about failing remarks…” your voice comes out more pleading than you expected, the seriousness of your upcoming exams sinking deeper in your gut.

soobin stops for a moment, his expression softening, though his playful grin never quite fades. “i’ll help you study afterwards, i promise,” he says, his tone almost coaxing as he gently wraps his hand around your wrist once more. the warmth of his touch is enough to make you falter for a moment, but you hold your ground, trying to focus on the bigger picture.

you sigh, your fingers pressing against your temple as the weight of the stress pulls on you. you’re too worn out to give him the earful he deserves, too consumed by the looming exams to even think of giving him a proper lecture.

but the word "help" slipping past his lips does strike a chord deep within you.

without saying another word, you went and walked towards your desk. grabbing your laptop and binder, you walk over to your bed, setting them down with a soft thud. soobin watches you curiously, his brow furrowing in confusion.

his eyes follow your every move, his head tilting slightly as if trying to piece together what you’re doing. soobin opens his mouth to ask, but you cut him off before he can say anything.

“help me study then, if you’re so eager.” you say, flipping open your binder to a page covered in equations and math problems. you glance at him briefly, noticing how his gaze falls on the page, eyes skimming over the numbers and symbols.

soobin scoffs, a small, amused smirk curling at the corners of his lips as he crosses his arms over his chest. “you know i’m not... well-versed on stuff like this. why are you asking me for help?” his voice carries a teasing tone, but there’s a hint of mockery in it too, as if the idea of him being useful in this situation is laughable.

you let out another exasperated sigh, unable to hide the frustration bubbling in your chest. without much thought, you tap the bed next to you, signaling for him to sit. “not that kind of help, dumbass. something else,” you mutter, your voice sharp but laced with a hint of tired amusement.

soobin raises an eyebrow at your response but doesn’t hesitate to sit on your bed anyway. his back presses against the headboard as he crosses his legs, a casual posture that contradicts the curiosity in his eyes. he watches you expectantly, waiting for you to elaborate, but you’re too busy grabbing your things, not giving him the chance to speak.

you set the notebook and your laptop down beside him, your movements smooth but determined. then, without a word, you climb onto the bed, positioning yourself in front of him. when your eyes meet his, there’s no doubt left—your expression is set, your intentions clear.

“okay, you want to fuck, but i want to study. so… why don’t we make the best of both worlds?” your words were deliberate, like you’re proposing a deal that’ll benefit you both.

soobin just stares at you for a moment, his lips curling into an amused smile, but there’s also a flicker of surprise in his eyes. he raises his brow again, clearly intrigued. “and how are we going to do that exactly?” he asks, his tone playful but with a hint of challenge.

you smile at the glimmer of curiosity in his gaze. “it’s simple. but first..” you let the words hang in the air, drawing out the tension.

but before soobin can protest or ask for more details, you lean in, finally closing the distance between you both.

your lips find his in a kiss that’s soft at first, just a hint of heat lingering in the contact. one of your hands sneaks up into his hair, your fingers tangling in the strands as you deepen the kiss. the suddenness catches him off guard, but it only takes a second before he responds, his hand moving to rest on your waist, the energy of the moment shifting into something more intense.

soobin reciprocates the passion, urgency laced through the press of softness against him. any level of space that could exist between you and him diminished from existence, the need for skinship being the only thing running through his mind.

the kiss was unrelenting, heated, each movement mirroring the tension building between you both. you could feel the intensity of the moment, his touch growing more assertive, drawing you in deeper.

you didn’t even notice his legs spreading apart to accommodate you, your body instinctively making you sit in between them. it wasn’t until that slight movement reminded you of what you were supposed to be doing that a small part of your brain snapped back to reality.

without breaking the kiss, your free hand moved downwards, finding the growing ache beneath soobin’s sweatpants. your fingers and your palm pressed and teased him through the fabric, earning a delicious moan from him that vibrated against your lips.

soobin was the one to pull away, his eyes darkening, and for a brief moment, you see a flicker of surprise in them. his lips are parted slightly, his breath ragged as he lets out a soft groan, the sound barely audible.

"really? so quickly?" he breathes, his voice hushed but laced with amusement. his eyes hold yours, a teasing glint in them, but there’s no hiding the desire building within them. the question had a joyful lilt, but the way his body reacts betrays his words. his arm wraps around your waist, pulling you even closer, and you feel the tension rising again as his gaze never leaves yours.

you hummed, your hands moving to hastily pull down his sweatpants, a certain glint in your eyes as you did so.

“oh,” a response soobin could not keep in, his breath nearly dying in his throat, surprise palpable in his features as he follows your actions. he takes a moment to regain his bearings before helping you remove the rest of his undergarments while he feels the excitement grow from the sudden change of pace.

he pulls you in for another kiss, determined to make it escalate into something more this time, his hands gently cupping your face as if grounding himself in the connection.

but before soobin got the chance to do just that, you pull away from him with a playful tut, teasing him gently.

“don’t be so impatient.” you scold him in amusement, words holding no real bite as you relish his growing embarrassment. you strip yourself from your shorts, slipping off the flimsy piece of clothing as you acknowledge his gaze that traces all over your curves. face flushed, soobin feels a small throb when you situate yourself back between his legs.

when you look up to finally meet his gaze, you held him by his chin, “listen, this is going to be our agreement; i sit on your dick, then you don’t distract me while i study. do we have a deal?”

soobin looked at you with wide eyes, a small, mischievous smile tugging at the corners of his lips. he gave a little nod, the look in his eyes making it clear he was fully on board with the plan.

"i don't think there's any downsides," he says with a light laugh, his voice airy and teasing. he leaned in and placed a small, quick peck on your lips, his smile growing even more.

you rolled your eyes, exasperated but amused. this was the nth time today you’d had to do it, but it didn’t stop you from replying with a smirk, “okay, good. now, be quiet or i’ll kick you out.”

wordlessly, you turn around, your back now facing soobin as you grab your laptop and notebook, setting them in front of you. then, without warning, you lift yourself up again as you slowly sank down onto soobin’s cock, sucking in a breath as you try not to react too much to the sudden stretch.

soobin lets out a soft moan at the action, electricity shooting up his body as he feels your warm walls take almost all of him at once. his eyes are locked on to your figure, then to your laptop, a curious expression on his face. he leans forwards slightly, peering over your shoulder and trying to look at your notes, but it's futile. he can't make out the words through all of the haze.

he could already feel his composure wavering, and so as a way to ground himself a little, with one hand gripping the sheets below him tightly, the other making its way to your thigh, slowly massaging it with gentle circles, trying to calm his racing thoughts.

you furrowed your eyebrows, sensing his movements, and without even looking at him, you swatted his hand away. “i said no distractions. i’m studying,” you muttered, your focus unwavering as you went back to rereading your notes.

soobin whimpers a bit, but his hand does as he’s been told and retreats from your thigh. he instead places it back in his lap, curling his hands into soft fists as he attempts to keep himself occupied and to resist the temptation to touch you again or buck his hips up.

it was quiet for a while, except the occasional turn of a page, typing here and there, and the poor boy behind you shifting in his position. you had started to actually read some of the notes in your laptop, but of course, with soobin occasionally moving, and his cock brushing against all the right spots without him trying, it was rather difficult to maintain focus.

"you’re not actually going to study the whole time… right?" soobin suddenly asks, his tone shaky and almost petulant. his voice broke through the quiet, and you could feel the irritation—and something else you didn’t wish to name—start to bubble up within you.

“i will. now stop moving and talking too much, it’s distracting.” you hiss as you lean back a little, effectively taking more of soobin in, the tiny bit of friction eliciting a moan from his lips.

soobin’s face flushes with a deep red color, eyes immediately shutting as he lets out a breathy whine. his hips stutter a little, his hands trembling just the tiniest bit as they come over to hold onto your hips tightly.

“come on, please,” he whines, his tone soft. he sounds almost pathetic. “please, i…” soobin bites his bottom lip, his mind a hazy mush.

he hardly sounds coherent to himself, and even if his mind could comprehend it, he was more than certain that he’d be ashamed of how much pride he was letting go just to have you. with his voice squeezed to a pathetic plea, he shakily exhales, “i need you.”

“no. we had an agreement, and so you have to wait.” you reply coldly, your tone firm and adamant, making it clear that you were set on focusing on the task at hand. but despite your sharp words, with the way he begged so sweetly... the flutter in your stomach betrayed you, your heart racing a little faster than usual.

soobin lets out another long, sulky whine at your words, but he still does as told again and stops moving in your lap, opting instead to lean his weight against the headboard and look down at you, his eyes half-lidded as he watches you read some of the notes silently.

this was tougher than he had initially expected. no, actually, it was torturous. soobin was starting to think this agreement isn’t as beneficial to him as he first thought it would be…

the minutes seemed to stretch and warp, each one dragging on longer than the last, turning into an agonizing experience that was almost unbearable. it was as if time itself had decided to punish him, to make him wait, to force him to endure this ever-growing ache in his body that refused to be ignored.

his skin was burning, hot to the touch, and the feeling only worsened the longer he stayed in this position. every muscle in his body ached, tense and wound up so tightly that he could almost feel the strain in his bones.

soobin glanced over at you every few moments, your focus unwavering as you sat there, your attention fixed on the laptop screen in front of you. you were completely absorbed in your work, occasionally typing or flipping through pages, completely unaware of the struggle he was going through.

growing more and more sour by the minute, soobin knew he couldn’t wait long at this rate. he whines softly, his voice strained with frustration, and his breathing grew heavier, just enough to make it obvious that he was struggling. his movements became more restless, shifting from one position to another, his body practically vibrating with the need for attention.

he let out a small, breathy sigh, deliberately making it louder than necessary, his chest rising and falling with each slight gasp. his eyes flickered towards you, hoping you’d notice the subtle signs of his impatience, but you were too focused on your notes to give him any acknowledgment.

"dude. be quieter," you snapped, your patience wearing thin, yet you didn’t even spare him a glance.

soobin's face flushed bright red at the sudden chastisement, your words making his skin crawl with want. his teeth dug into his bottom lip, trying to suppress a whimper that threatened to escape. the effort was clear in his eyes; he was trying his best not to annoy you further, but the longer he held back, the more frustrated he became.

"i-i'm sorry. i’ll try..." he replies meekly, not daring to defy you, his hands gripping tighter on your waist to keep himself from fucking into you like he so desperately wanted to.

surprisingly enough, soobin manages to compose himself somewhat after that.

his body was still trembling with an undercurrent of tension, muscles wound tight and every inch of him screaming for release. but despite the discomfort, he’s determined to hold on, to keep still, and to control his breathing.

it’s a battle of willpower now, and for the first time, he begins to wonder if he should just put an end to this himself. the ache was almost unbearable, and his thoughts are becoming a jumbled mess of frustration and want.

he leans forward slightly, his lips parting as he opens his mouth to speak, ready to let out another whiny protest or maybe even beg for your attention. but just as he’s about to say something, you shift—just a slight movement, barely noticeable at first—but the effect on him was immediate.

soobin bites down hard on his bottom lip to hold back any noise, but even so, a whimper still escapes from his lips. unable to hold back, he starts to rut his hips a little against you, his hands moving to now grip your thighs.

"i-i can't," he whispers, his voice strained and shaky, as if he's on the brink of losing control. "i… i just can't anymore.. please, please, i-" his voice breaks, the desperation evident in every syllable. his chest heaves as he breathes heavily, eyes wide with a mixture of pleading and helplessness. "i can’t take it anymore,"

you let out a small gasp as you could feel him beginning to move inside you, making you ball your hands up into fists as you fought to urge to moan and give into his advances. you purse your lips as you place a barely controlled hand on his thigh, “stop moving, or i really will kick you out.”

soobin lets out a pitiful whimper at your words, his head lowering again. "but…!" he tries to argue again, unable to stop himself anymore, but he stops himself, too afraid of actually being kicked out as you warned. and so the trembling boy just settles himself, panting and squirming underneath you, while he waits for you to let him move.

soobin’s lips trembled slightly as he mutters again, his voice barely a whisper. “how long do i... have to wait exactly...?” there’s a quiver in his tone, a hint of vulnerability that betrays his growing desperation.

you don’t respond.

he swallows hard, his throat dry, and the silence between you both feels suffocating. his body is rigid, his hands trembling slightly in his lap, and his frustration builds with every passing second.

he shifts in his seat, trying to make himself comfortable, but it’s impossible. soobin’s body was too tense, his mind too chaotic. his thoughts trail off as the discomfort grows, the pressure in his chest and the urge to just screw it all and just fuck you right here intensifying.

soobin bites his lip to stifle a frustrated groan, his gaze dropping to the floor, lost in his thoughts. what am i supposed to do? he wonders, feeling like he’s both trapped and helpless.

but then, an idea hits him.

soobin's eyes flicker with a sudden spark as a thought forms in his mind, unbidden but undeniable. it’s crazy, reckless even, but in this moment, it’s the only thing that feels like it might work. he hesitates, his mind racing with the implications, but the desperation gnaws at him, urging him forward. what do i have to lose anyway?

soobin suddenly leans his head forward, planting a soft kiss on your neck, then another one, peppering your sensitive skin with kisses and sucks, making it all the way up to your earlobe.

this finally catches your attention, as your typing comes to an abrupt pause and your hands still above your keyboard, the sudden break in your concentration hitting soobin like a wave of satisfaction.

“bin, stop it,” you say, your tone firm but tinged with a sharp edge he’s grown so familiar with, your brows furrowing slightly as you turn your head to meet his gaze, still trying to maintain your focus, though the flicker of annoyance (and something else) was evident in the way your lips pressed together.

soobin’s lips curl into a small, sly smile as he hears your words. he could tell he was finally grabbing your attention, and the fact that he could affect you at all sent a strange rush of excitement through his body.

he leans in a little closer, his hand gently resting at the back of your neck, his thumb brushing against the sensitive skin there. the soft touch sends a shiver down your spine, but you try to ignore the fluttering feeling building inside you.

“you want me too, don’t you?” soobin whispers, his voice barely audible over the tension hanging between you two. there’s a slight teasing edge in his words, but also something else—a hint of softness, as if he knows he’s getting under your skin.

you stiffen for a moment, trying to focus on your work, but the feeling of his fingers against your skin makes it nearly impossible to keep your composure. you swallow hard, the weight of the moment slowly starting to affect your thoughts more than you'd like.

“you like it when i kiss..” soobin teases, allowing the anticipation to build up. mischief builds up within him from gaining an upper hand, his voice dipping an octave lower as another kiss was chastely pressed on your earlobe. “..here, right?”

“s-soobin, cut it out….”

soobin smiles as he hears how shaky your voice has become, continuing to kiss along your neck, slowly moving to your jawline. he lets out a little breathy chuckle, whispering into your ear again,

“make me.”

꒰💭꒱

"h-hah—!” soobin's voice cracks, his words tumbling out in a breathy whimper. beads of sweat form on his forehead, his chest rising and falling unevenly. his eyes, wide and pleading, search yours for any sign of mercy, a faint flush spreading across his cheeks as he struggles to hold himself together. “please—i.. i can’t take this anymore…!” fed up with soobin's relentless assault of kisses trailing up and down your neck while you were clearly trying to focus, you finally slammed your laptop shut. the sharp sound echoed in the room, making him freeze mid-action. you turned to face him fully, your expression exasperated but resolute. if he wanted your attention so badly, then fine—you’d give it to him, but on your terms.

and so here you are now, abruptly stopping the movements of your hand, denying soobin his fourth release.

his entire body was flushed a deep red, the poor man's chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. soobin looks at you, the pleading obvious in his eyes. his lips were slightly parted, his mouth open slightly as he tries to take deep breaths.

"p-please... i-i promise i'll be good..!" soobin gulps as he pleads, his voice trembling and breathless. his eyes were wide and glossy, glistening with desperation, as if he’s clinging to the last thread of your patience. "i... i won’t distract you anymore..! just... please..."

“is that so?” you murmur lowly with a scoff, smirking as soobin lets out another whimper as you squeeze his sensitive cock and flick your thumb ever so slightly on his tip, making his back arch in both pleasure and frustration.

“if you really are good, then i’m sure you can take more, bunny.”

despite his better judgment, soobin nods frantically, his head bobbing with an almost childlike eagerness that contrasts the flush of his cheeks. his breaths come out in uneven pants, his chest rising and falling as he desperately tries to collect himself. he swallows hard, his adam’s apple bobbing visibly, before finally managing to stammer out a reply.

"o-okay... okay, i can take more for you, miss," he says, his voice trembling with a mixture of resolve and vulnerability. his wide eyes meet yours, searching for any sign of approval, as though your acknowledgment is the only thing anchoring him at this moment.

with his confirmation, you offer soobin a sweet smile that makes his breath hitch. your hand began to move with practiced precision, flicking your wrist and rubbing over his sensitive cockhead just the way he likes it, and it elicits an immediate reaction—a stuttered gasp as his body tenses for a brief moment.

"there we go," you murmur softly, your voice carrying a gentle edge of satisfaction. soobin’s head tilts back slightly, his lips parting as his breath quickens again, though this time it’s laced with a relief he’s been chasing. his wide eyes flutter shut, and a faint, almost shy smile graces his lips in response to your gesture.

“thank you.. so much.. hah…” he gasps, his voice trembling with every word. a shaky, almost broken sound escapes his lips, his chest rising and falling with the effort to steady himself. his fingers, still trembling, slowly find their way to your wrist, their touch warm and a little hesitant as he tries to make you move faster. "please... just like that," he murmurs, the words falling from his lips in a whisper, tinged with relief and something deeper.

and when you happily oblige with his request to fasten your pace, soobin lets out a shaky gasp as his hips twitch up, a soft moan passing his lips. he looks up at you with his half-lidded eyes, and lets out a breath, his voice low.

with every glide and jerk of your hand on his shaft, soobin feels his head spin just a little more, reacting to every movement he feels with a pretty moan or a whimper escaping his quivering lips. soobin’s back then arches slightly, his muscles tensing as his breathing grows uneven, sensing his climax approaching, each inhale shaky and shallow. his voice comes out strained, barely above a whisper but heavy with need.

"m-more... more, please... more," he stammers, his words tumbling out in quick succession, each one carrying the weight of his growing desperation. his hands grip tightly at whatever they can find—your arm, the fabric beneath him—seeking any form of grounding as his body seems to betray him, trembling with anticipation.

“more? hm, okay.” you hum, your hand now going up and down his length at an even quicker pace.

soobin lets out a soft whimper at the increased movement, his breathing becoming even more heavy, the sound coming out more like gasps at this point. “a-ah… i think.. i-i’m about to—please… please!” he says with a broken moan, looking up at you with glossy eyes, his vision turning blurry and his mind spinning.

but just as you could sense him about to reach the height of his release, you stop abruptly once more, letting go of his aching cock.

soobin lets out a loud whine as you stop, his body writhing a little in protest. he shut his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling as he tries to catch his breath.

“n-no..! no, not again…” his voice trembles as the words spill from his lips, both his body and his shaft twitching with an almost unbearable ache. he groans, the sound coming out as a mixture of frustration and desperation, his breath ragged as he shifts slightly, trying to ease the tension that’s building up.

“please…” soobin pleads again, his voice barely above a whisper as he tries to steady himself, but the words break with the sheer desperation clinging to them. his tears were threatening to spill as his hand fell helplessly by his side, the weight of his need pressing on him more heavily than before. "it... hurts.." he whimpers again, his lips trembling.

soobin then tries to reach for you with trembling hands, the desperation evident in the way his fingers twitch in the air, as if he can’t bear the thought of being so far away from you. he looks at you with wide, pleading eyes, begging without saying a word, his body unable to stay still.

but you only scoot farther away, crossing your arms in a deliberate gesture that sharpens the ache in his chest. “no. you’ve been bad, and this is what impatient and insatiable bunnies get,” you spat out, your words cutting through the air, colder than the distance you’ve put between you.

the harshness in your tone stabs through him, the sting reverberating in his chest like an open wound, raw and aching. his face contorts in pure agony, the weight of your rejection heavy on his heart. he’s never felt more exposed, more vulnerable, than in this moment, and it overwhelms him in the worst way.

"p-please.. i'm sorry…" soobin stammers, his voice barely a whisper but thick with vulnerability, the tremor in his words making it clear how much this is breaking him.

"i'm—i'm sorry." he pants, trying to jog up to a breath that he knows he will not be able to catch up to just yet. "i'll be... g-good, i promise." his voice sounds pathetic with every word but he supposes that he is under your undoing.

"won't do it again, miss. please forgive me." he sobs out, pleading for something that he already knows the answer of deep down.

“no.” you say firmly and coldly, the word almost like a verdict. the finality of it stings him more than he expected, and it makes him flinch slightly, “now next time, you ought to think twice before misbehaving.”

꒰🧸꒱ @pagelets, @jettithink, @killa-1009, @j-ji-jia, @frankghgr, @dawngyu, @usuallyunlikelyfox, @sxmmerberries, @napipope-ta, @bamgeutori, @xylatox <3 (click here if you would like to be added! ^^)

#choi soobin #soobin #soobin x reader #soobin x y/n #soobin x you #soobin smut #soobin hard hours #soobin hard thoughts #txt x reader #txt x y/n #txt fanfic #txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts

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mingi-s-dimples · 6 months ago

Text

Give me attention, please... - Seonghwa

KINKTOBER DAY 18, REQ. BY 🤧 anon

~"So like reader is a college student and its like its exam season and she's busy studying day and night not giving her bf aka (Seonghwa) attention and because he wants attention from reader one night while reader was studying her ass off he went under her desk and YKYKYKKK 🤧🤧😾😾"

pairing; seonghwa x fem!reader

genre: 18+, student au, filthish

summary: Your boyfriend just couldn’t hold back anymore, the small amount of attention you've given him in the past few days, not even close enough for his hunger.

wc: 2.8k

warnings: established relationship, college au, helping from under tne desk ifykwim, oral (f receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, squirting, overstim, some praising here and there, Seonghwa is *needy*, completely consensual, unedited, for sure forgot something.

Author's Note: My only note: Oh, and how good it would be to be eaten out by Hwa, relieving your stress, from under the table.. I'm so sorry, Seonghwa brainrot is going strong 😞😞😞 sigh. Enjoy, ml!

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent in any way the reality of the member.

As the clock struck midnight, you found yourself in a familiar spot — hunched over the wooden desk in your dimly lit room, surrounded by a fortress of textbooks, notes, and half-empty mugs of tea that had gone cold hours ago. The warm yellow glow of your desk lamp created a little bubble of light in an otherwise dark room, making it feel like you were in a tiny world of your own, where nothing existed except for the relentless blur of terms, diagrams, and equations that filled the pages in front of you.

Medical school midterms were around the corner, and every student in your program was in the same exhausted, caffeine-fueled state. But somehow, it felt like you were on the verge of crumbling beneath the weight of it all. You knew that if you wanted to stay on top of everything, you couldn’t afford to miss even a minute of study time. The stakes were just too high, and you’d poured far too much of yourself into this journey to let it slip now.

Your head ached slightly, a dull throb that reminded you of the hours you’d been locked in this position, eyes glued to textbook pages and screen displays, scribbling notes on anything you could reach. Despite your body begging you for a break, you pushed through. There was a strange kind of exhilaration in the exhaustion; each passing moment without sleep felt like one step closer to mastering this next set of exams. But still, you couldn’t deny how much you missed a certain distraction — a distraction you’d been purposefully ignoring for the sake of staying focused.

A faint sigh escaped your lips as you let your pen drop and rubbed your temples, closing your eyes for a brief moment to ground yourself. You thought of Seonghwa. He’d been nothing but patient, supportive even, as you told him — time and again — that you couldn’t spare a moment, not even for him. You hadn’t even kissed him properly in days, brushing past him with a murmured apology every time he tried to steal a moment. It tugged at you, but the weight of these exams always seemed heavier.

However, as though summoned by the thought, you heard a soft knock at the door. Without even looking up, you knew it was him. He had a way of announcing himself that was so gentle, it was unmistakable.

“Come in,” you mumbled, distractedly flipping through another page of your notes, hoping he’d understand your subtle plea not to break your focus.

He opened the door quietly, slipping inside with the same easy grace he always had. There was a comforting warmth to his presence that filled the room the moment he stepped in. You didn’t look up, but you felt his gaze on you, lingering in that thoughtful way of his that always made you feel seen, even when you were trying to disappear into your work.

“Hey,” he murmured, the softness of his voice cutting through the silence like a balm. You could hear the affection there, the way he always sounded when he looked at you.

You gave him a small, tired smile, eyes barely lifting from your books. “Hey,” you echoed, already bracing yourself to tell him you needed more time. But instead of moving closer or responding right away, he just stood there, watching you in silence, a knowing look flickering across his face.

“Still studying, huh?” he asked after a beat, his voice a gentle tease.

“Mm-hmm,” you replied, focusing on the dense paragraph in front of you, pretending that his presence didn’t send a slight thrill through you. “You know these exams are coming up. I really can’t afford to take a break.”

Seonghwa made a quiet hum of understanding, though there was something playful lurking in the sound. You could feel his eyes studying you as intensely as you were studying your textbooks. It was the way he looked at you when he was up to something, and a part of you wished you could give in to whatever he was scheming, just for a moment. But you had work to do, and you’d convinced yourself that any distraction — even one as tempting as him — would only cost you precious time you couldn’t afford.

And yet, he didn’t leave. In fact, he took a few slow steps forward until he was standing directly beside you, so close that you could smell the faint hint of his cologne, warm and familiar. Your pen stilled in your hand as his fingers gently brushed against your shoulder, a light touch that made your skin tingle.

“Are you sure you don’t need a break?” he murmured, his voice a little lower, a little softer, the way it got when he was coaxing you into letting go. His fingers trailed up to your neck, massaging the tense muscles he found there with a tenderness that made you want to melt.

You shook your head, though your resolve was starting to waver under his touch. “I can’t, Seonghwa. I really have to finish this chapter…”

But he didn’t let go. Instead, he moved his hand lower, resting it lightly on your back, his touch grounding you even as it sent shivers down your spine. “You’ve been at this for hours,” he said, his tone persuasive. “Don’t you think you deserve a little time to relax?”

Your heart skipped a beat as his hand slid lower, his fingers pressing against your lower back, just enough to make you lean into him. A part of you was screaming to pull away, to get back to your work before he made you forget about it entirely. But another part — a much louder, much more exhausted part — wanted nothing more than to surrender to his warmth, to let him pull you away from this endless cycle of stress and studying, even if just for a moment.

“Seonghwa…” you started, but the words faltered as he leaned down, pressing his lips to your temple in a feather-light kiss. It was such a small, tender gesture, but it made your heart race, the pent-up tension in your body threatening to unravel under his touch.

“You know you need this,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “And I think I need it, too.”

Before you could respond, he shifted his position, moving down so that he was level with you, his hands sliding to your knees as he looked up, a mischievous gleam in his eyes that made your stomach twist. You barely had a moment to process what he was doing before he ducked under your desk, settling between your legs in a way that made your face burn with a mix of surprise and anticipation.

“Seonghwa, what are you…” You trailed off, words escaping you as he looked up at you with that infuriatingly charming grin, his hands settling on your thighs.

“You’ve been ignoring me,” he said, his tone playful, though there was a note of something deeper in his gaze — something that told you he wasn’t going to take no for an answer this time. “So I thought I’d remind you of what you’ve been missing.”

"W-what are you doing, I have to-" he interrupted you.

"No no, don't mind me. Go on with your studying, sweetie.." Seonghwa said , his voice a mix of teasing and something undeniably alluring. His fingertips began to trace slow, deliberate patterns along your thighs, his touch sending little shocks of sensation through your body. You tried desperately to refocus, to keep your mind on the open textbook in front of you, but it felt nearly impossible with Seonghwa right there, looking up at you with eyes that sparkled with mischief.

Your hands trembled slightly as you picked up your pen, trying to continue where you’d left off. The words on the page swam and blurred together, your concentration shattered by the way Seonghwa’s hands inched higher, brushing against sensitive skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

"Seonghwa," you managed, your voice coming out in a strangled whisper. You didn't even recognize the sound of your own voice, and you cursed the way it quivered. But he only tilted his head, the grin on his lips widening as he seemed to revel in your helplessness.

"What's wrong?" he teased, his voice a sultry whisper, one of his hands coming to rest just above your knee, the other gently tracing the line of your inner thigh. "Is something distracting you?"

You shot him a glare that lacked any real heat, and he laughed softly, the sound warm and smooth. He leaned forward just a fraction, his hair falling into his eyes. You could see the way he was savoring every moment, his gaze locked on your face, watching your reactions.

"I'm just... trying to help," he said innocently, though the look he gave you was anything but. "You seemed so tense, so stressed. I thought a little... relaxation might do you some good."

Your pulse raced, and you knew he could feel it, knew he was aware of just how much he was getting to you. "I can't... I need to finish this," you murmured, though even as you said it, your willpower was crumbling, your body aching for more of his touch.

Seonghwa leaned in a bit closer, his lips ghosting over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. "I'll be quiet," he promised, a wicked sparkle in his eyes. "I won’t make a sound. So you can focus... if you think you can."

A shiver ran down your spine at his words, and you felt your breath hitch, your hands clenching into fists on your lap. He was pushing you to the brink, testing just how much you could take before you gave in to him entirely.

Your fingers tightened around your pen, the ink smudging across the page, and you let out a shaky sigh. Seonghwa's laughter was a low rumble, and the look he gave you was both playful and dark, filled with a hunger that made your heart skip a beat.

“Let me take care of you,” he whispered, his voice so soft and sincere that it sent a surge of warmth straight to your chest, making it even harder to remember why you were resisting in the first place.

Seonghwa’s playful energy softened again as he sensed your hesitance, his gaze warming with affection. His fingertips, still resting on your thighs, stilled for a moment, grounding you in the present. Slowly, he let his hands move to your waist, his touch gentle as he sought silent permission.

“Trust me?” he asked softly, his voice a delicate blend of sincerity and care.

You nodded, a mixture of anticipation and comfort settling in your chest. There was no rush, no demand in his movements. Instead, he treated the moment with reverence, his eyes never leaving yours, constantly checking in to make sure you were okay. With a small smile that melted your remaining reservations, Seonghwa’s hands moved to the waistband of your sweatpants.

He hooked his fingers under the fabric, his touch light and unobtrusive. “Just relax,” he whispered, the words wrapping around you like a gentle embrace. As he slowly slid the material down, his hands brushed against your hips, the warmth of his touch soothing any nervousness that lingered.

The sweatpants slipped down your legs in a smooth motion, pooling around your ankles. Seonghwa helped guide your feet free from them, his movements patient and unhurried, making sure you felt cared for with every gesture. As he knelt back, he let his fingers skim along your calves, offering a soft touch that sent a wave of calm through you.

He looked up at you then, his eyes filled with adoration, and the smile he gave you was one of pure affection. "Better?" he asked, his voice tender, as if his only goal was to make you feel lighter, more at ease. There was no pressure in his expression, only the quiet reassurance that he was there for you, however you needed him.

You exhaled, feeling the tension start to melt from your body, and for the first time in what felt like hours, you let yourself lean into his presence, grateful for the way he held you in both the playful and the peaceful moments.

You were still, well, trying to understand something from the textbook laying in front of you, but to no avail. You practically gave up, but didn't really want to give him the satisfaction. So that you pretended to study, anticipation building in your chest as your breath got heavier.

“May I?” Seonghwa asks, refering to your panties.

“Y-yes..” you softly whined out, looking down at him.

He took them off and tossed them away, looking contently at your wet folds. He chuckled, finding the situation really funny, as you were also really eager for whatever he had in plan. He lowered your seat and slightly raised your legs, them now resting on his shoulders. He pulled you closer to his face, on the edge of the chair.

He started kissing your inner thigh, hands holding tightly onto the flesh. The sloppy kisses trailed off as close as possible to your cunt, dangerously close to it. He couldn’t keep himself back and went in, his tongue finding it's way inside your annoyingly wet hole. He buried himself in, eating you out hungrily. His nose flicked helplessly against your clit, sending shivers lf pleasure through your body. He held onto your thighs so forcefully, as if you'd run away, a reason to keep you in place, restrained. His lips flattened against your folds, finding their way to your clit, of which he started sucking and flicking with the tip of his tongue. Your head fell back in pleasure, anticipation building in your core.

“Seonghwa, I-” you couldn't pretend anymore, that you were studying. Not when your man had his tongue all up in you, hitting all your sweet spots. Your hands for his head, fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer, receiving a muffled whimper from him.

He looked up at you, eyes shot with lust and desire, smiling against your folds, “you love it, am I right?” he said, going in for more.

“D-don't look at me like that.. oh f-” you moaned out as he inserted two of his fingers in, accompanied by his mouth.

“Oh- g-god-!” you whined out, legs closing on his head. His hands held you back, spreading you out as much possible. “No, no, baby, let me enjoy every moment of it.”

As soon as his nose hit your swollen nub a couple of times you came undone, feeling his tongue slurping yoir juiced greedily. But.. he didn't stop. He had other plans.

“Let's see… sweetheart. Would you give me another one? I love the way you taste so damn much..” he said, completely out of it.

Your high started building up rapidly again, followed by a new sensation thru your body. He senses you were close again and fastened his fingers and tongue, rushing the orgasm out of you. His fingers dug in your flesh as you came again, leaning even closer, eating everything.

As he finger fucked and ate you through your orgasm, you felt yourself almost instantly being washed over by another one, overstimulation taking over you. But when Seonghwa's fingers came down to a stop and he backed off for a moment, you looked at him in horror, legs trembling on his shoulders.

“Why d-does your face look so.. messy?” you said but soon realised by yourself, “oh, my g-god..” you whispered, embarrassed, burying your face in your hands. You just squirted all over him.

“No, no, look at me.” he said as he licked off the remaining juices he had on his lips and got up. He stood nearby, taking a tissue out of a box. He cleaned his face up and came back to you, smiling contently.

“Sweetie, are you feeling better? At least a little bit relaxed, hm?” he asked you, his hand caressing your cheek.

“Y-yes.. baby. Thank you..” you said, cheeks flushed red of embarrassment.

“I gotta admit tho.. that was fucking.. hot.” he smirked.

“STOP IT! I'M EMBARRASSED!” you playfully shouted at him, looking away.

“Look at me. Did I ate you that good that you squirted all over me, honey? Was I that good to you?” his voice low, teasing.

“Y-yes.. it felt so fucking good..”

“Well then, let me finish my meal, shall I?” he said and didn't let you finish your words as he lifted you from your seat and dropped you on the bed.

“I'm still damn hungry, baby. Hungry, even starving, for you..” Seonghwa crawled onto you, kisses trailing off to your collarbones.

The night was just about to get started.

NETWORKS:

@blossomnet

@illusionnet

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@mingleshine @musiclovingfairy @crazylittlebisexual @sanhwalvr @gong-fourz @arki-sha @artistic-rendition @hongjoongtime117 @cypher-03 @woolysium @peachy-bell26 @memorabxlia

#ateez fanfic #illusionnet #blossomnet #ateez x reader #ateez fic #ateez x y/n #fanfic #smut fic #ateez #ateez smut #mingi s dimples masterlist #smut #seonghwa #seonghwa ateez #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #seonghwa x y/n #seonghwa smut

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tyunderella · 4 months ago

Text

professor choi

🎧 choi yeonjun x fem!afab!reader, mdni!

🎧 warnings: smut, college professor!yeonjun, student! reader, dom!yeonjun, sub!reader, both reader and yeonjun are adults in their 20's!!, oral (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), cum eating, unprotected sex, creampie, semi-public (?), marking (hickeys, f. and m. receiving), praise (f. receiving), petnames (princess, good girl), slight tit play (mentioned maybe once), multiple orgasms (f.), lmk if you find something that i should add here!

🎧 a/n: comments and opinions are very appreciated, don't be shy :3 made in light mode, the banner might look silly on dark mode >.< it's my second work, i wanted it to be longer but i gave up.. @_@ thanks to my mooties who helped me with their kind words.. :3 kisses for you guys fr! also i posted it very late lol but the fic is finally out aaah kinda proud 🙏🏻

the lecture hall buzzed with the usual chatter of students settling in before class. you slid into your usual spot—second row, slightly off to the side. it was close enough to see the board clearly but not so close that you felt exposed. the thick notebook on your desk was already opened to a fresh page, a highlighter neatly tucked into the coil, but your grip on your pen was loose. history wasn’t exactly your strong suit.

and professor choi yeonjun didn’t make it any easier to concentrate.

as always, yeonjun strode into the room, a cup of coffee in one hand, a laptop in the other. he was dressed pretty casually today, a plain white t-shirt tucked into his slacks, short sleeves showing off his arms. the room seemed to straighten up a little in his presence—well, at least most of it.

"alright, alright, let’s quiet down." he called out, his deep voice carrying effortlessly over the noise. his smile was easy, charming, and just mischievous enough to make you wonder what kind of trouble he’d been up to before walking in.

your eyes flicked down to your notebook, hoping to avoid direct eye contact.

"well, hello princess.” he greeted as he passed by your seat, his tone teasing and soft, low enough that only you could hear.

your cheeks warmed at his words. he started calling you that a few weeks ago when he saw your friends put on a paper crown on your head. it wasn’t mean-spirited, but it stuck—every now and then, he’d throw it into his comments when addressing you. it made you feel seen and embarrassed all at once.

today, you didn’t respond, just tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear and pretended to focus on the slides he was pulling up on the projector.

"alright, let’s get serious for a second.” yeonjun said as he perched on the edge of his desk, crossing his legs casually. "today’s the big day. history 101 midterm. you’ve been preparing for this, right?"

a wave of groans rippled through the class.

yeonjun laughed, running a hand through his hair. "come on, don’t sound so defeated! this is your chance to shine." his eyes flicked to you briefly, a small smirk tugging at his lips. "even my princess might surprise me."

you rolled your eyes internally but smiled faintly.

the test wasn’t as bad as you’d feared—but it wasn’t great either. some questions were straightforward, while others had you chewing the end of your pen in frustration. by the time you handed it in, you knew you’d probably passed… barely.

a few days later, yeonjun was standing at the front of the room, flipping through the graded exams as students filed in. his denim button-up shirt had the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his jeans on the baggier side, his more classy outfit. he wore his confidence like a second skin.

"morning.” he greeted. "if i look tired, it’s because i spent all night grading your tests. you’re welcome."

a wave of chuckles rippled through the room, but your stomach twisted a little. you weren’t dreading your score, but you weren’t looking forward to it either.

he started calling out names, handing back papers with comments scribbled in the margins. when he got to you, his expression softened slightly. he walked over to your desk and placed the test face-down in front of you.

"princess..” he murmured, leaning down just enough that his words reached your ear. "we need to talk after class."

your pulse quickened.

the lecture dragged on for what felt like hours, though you knew it was your nerves. when the last student left, you stayed seated, pretending to pack up your things as yeonjun locked the classroom door.

"alright, let’s see what’s going on.” he said, sitting on the edge of the desk directly in front of yours.

he gestured for you to pass him your test. you slid it over, avoiding his gaze.

"you’re not bad at history." he said after a moment, his tone thoughtful. "you’ve got potential. but it feels like you’re holding back."

"i’m not good at memorizing dates and stuff..” you admitted, fiddling with the strap of your bag.

"history isn’t just about dates.” he replied, leaning forward. his cologne—something woodsy and clean—reached you, making it harder to think. "it’s about stories. people. perspectives. you’re good at writing, but your answers lack confidence. why’s that?"

"i don’t know.." you muttered, shrugging.

he sighed, tapping the test against his knee. "you’re not going to get better if you don’t try, princess. you’re too quiet, too passive. i know there’s more to you than this."

something in his tone made you glance up. his eyes were locked on yours, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths.

"you just… disappear in class." he said, almost to himself.

you swallowed hard.

"i want to help you.” yeonjun continued, his voice softer now. he leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. "but you’ve got to meet me halfway."

"i’ll try." you said, though it sounded weak even to your own ears.

yeonjun chuckled, shaking his head. "there’s that mindset again. don’t just try—do it."

his gaze dipped briefly, flicking over you like he was noticing something for the first time. you’d worn a simple dress today, nothing fancy, but the way his eyes lingered on the curve of your shoulder sent a ripple of warmth through you.

"is that understood?" he asked, but there was an edge to his voice now—something heavier, more deliberate.

you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. you clear your throat softly, refusing to look into his eyes.

"good.” he said, but he didn’t move. neither did you.

the silence stretched, thick and charged. when he finally spoke again, his voice was lower, rougher.

"you’re distracting." he said bluntly, his eyes meeting yours again.

your breath hitched. "what?"

"you heard me.” he murmured, a small, crooked smile tugging at his lips.

before you could process what was happening, he leaned in, his hand reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. the touch was light, barely there, but it sent a shiver down your spine.

"you’re not embarassed, are you?" he whispered.

his face was so close now that you could see the faint stubble along his jaw, the way his lips parted slightly as if he was debating his next move. and then he made it.

he kissed you.

it was slow at first, almost hesitant, like he was giving you a chance to pull away. but when you didn’t, it deepened, his hand slipping to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair. his lips were soft but insistent, moving against yours with a hunger that made your head spin.

you didn’t know where to put your hands at first, but they found their way to his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his shirt as if to ground yourself.

when he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing hard.

"princess..” he murmured, his voice rough. "you’re full of surprises."

you were as shocked as he was.

you sat frozen in your chair, lips tingling from the kiss, unsure of what to do or say. yeonjun's forehead still rested against yours, and his hand remained at the back of your neck, his thumb grazing your skin lightly.

"i shouldn't have done that.." he whispered, though there was no regret in his voice-only a quiet conflict. his eyes flickered to yours, searching for a reaction.

your heart pounded as you shook your head slightly. "i... i didn't mind."

a small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "no?"

you bit your lip and shook your head again.

he sighed, leaning back slightly, but the space between you felt electric, like a taut string that could snap at any moment. his fingers reluctantly slid from your neck, but his eyes didn't leave yours.

"this is dangerous." he said, his voice soft but steady. "you know that, right?”

you nodded, your throat dry.

he laughed quietly, running a hand through his hair, which had become slightly disheveled from the intensity of the moment. "but god, you make it hard to care about the rules."

the warmth in your cheeks spread to your neck. you felt equal parts flattered and nervous, unsure how to navigate this sudden shift in dynamic.

"are you... mad at me?" you asked timidly, breaking the silence.

"mad at you?" his brows lifted in surprise, and then he shook his head, a grin softening his expression. "no, princess, i'm not mad at you. if anything, i'm slightly frustrated with myself."

"why?"

his grin faded slightly, replaced by a look of longing that made your breath catch. "because i can't seem to keep my distance. and i know i should.”

the next few days were surreal. every time you stepped into the lecture hall, your heart would race, and you couldn't help but glance at yeonjun. he was professional, as always, but his eyes seemed to find yours more often, lingering just a moment longer than they should.

the morning of today’s lecture was the same as any other-or so you thought. your alarm blared at its usual obnoxious volume, pulling you from the comfort of sleep. you groan, dragging yourself out of bed and straight into your routine.

the sunlight streaming through your window felt almost too bright, making you squint as you shuffled to the bathroom. today was a history day -a fact that usually filled you with mild dread, but recently, it left you feeling... something else. something you didn't want to name.

"come on.." you mutter to yourself as you rummage through your closet, pulling out a sweater and a pair of jeans. then you hesitate.

instead, you reach for a fitted black top and a skirt you haven’t worn in a while. it wasn't overly revealing, but it felt a bit more put-together than your usual outfit. you brush your hair with more care than usual, adding an even bigger touch of make-up than you usually do before grabbing your bag.

you tell yourself it was just because you felt like putting in effort today- not because of him..

the campus was alive with its usual hum of activity as you make your way to the lecture hall. students clustered in groups outside, laughing, talking, sipping on overpriced coffee.

you walk briskly, clutching your bag strap tighter than necessary. there was an odd fluttering in your chest that you try to ignore.

you arrive a little early, as always, sitting down in your seat.

the lecture hall filled quickly, and soon the low hum of chatter surrounded you. you glance up from your notebook when the door opened, and there he was.

choi yeonjun.

as usual, he strodes in with a confident ease that draws everyone's attention. his fitted blazer only emphasizes his lean frame, and the way he carries himself makes him seem taller than he already is. his hair is slightly mussed, like he'd run a hand through it one too many times, but it only added to his charm.

"morning, everyone.” he greets, his voice smooth and warm as always. "i hope you're ready to dive into some revolutionary chaos.”

you scribble notes as he speaks, but it was hard to focus entirely on the content. your attention keeps drifting to the way he moves, the way he gestures with his hands as he explains concepts, the way his lips curl when he makes a joke.

"okay, let's make this a conversation.” he says, leaning casually against the desk at the front of the room. "what do you think drove the french revolution-economic desperation or political ideology?"

the question hungs in the air, and several hands shot up. you keep your gaze on your notebook, hoping he wouldn't call on you.

but you feel his eyes on you before you hear him speak.

"princess.” he says, a playful lilt in his voice. "let's hear your take."

a few chuckles ripple through the room, and your cheeks burn. you look up to find him watching you with that familiar teasing smirk, his head tilted slightly.

“i, uh..." you fumble for words, the weight of everyone's attention making your throat dry. "i think it was both."

”both?" he prompted, his smirk softening into a curious smile.

you nod, finding a bit more confidence as you go on. "people were starving, so economic desperation pushed them to act. but... without the ideas of liberty and equality, they wouldn't have had a vision to rally behind. so, i think the ideology made it bigger than just survival."

the room gets quiet for a bit, and you wonder if you said something stupid. but then yeonjun grins, his eyes lighting up with approval.

"exactly.” he says, his tone warm and encouraging. "ideology gave them hope. well said, princess."

the pride in his voice sends a flutter through your chest.

the rest of the lecture passed in a blur. you answered another question later-something you almost never did-and while your classmates didn't seem to notice anything unusual, you felt a strange energy lingering between you and yeonjun.

as the class fills out, you gather your things slowly, trying to appear casual even though your pulse was racing.

"princess.” yeonjun calls, his voice cutting through the chatter. "can you stay back for a moment again?"

your heart thuds in your chest as you nod, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

the memories of what happened last time when you stayed after the class flood your mind.

yeonjun leans against his desk, arms crossed as he watches you approach. his expression was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes that made him look different.

"you were good today.” he points out, his voice quieter than usual.

"thanks..” you murmur, glancing down at your shoes.

"no, really." he insisted, stepping closer. "i knew you had it in you.”

the way he said it- so soft, so sincere- made your cheeks warm. you look up at him, meeting his gaze, and the intensity there makes your breath hitch.

"you're different today.” he says after a moment, almost to himself.

"different how?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. is he talking about your clothes? was your highlighter too visible?

he tilts his head, studying you. "you're more confident. bold, even."

you open your mouth to respond, but the words get caught in your throat as he steps closer, his eyes never leaving yours.

"you look really great, you know?" he whispers, his voice low and rough.

your heart pounds as he reaches out, his fingers brushing against your arm. the touch was light, almost hesitant, but it sent a jolt of electricity through you.

"yeonjun-"

he silences you with a kiss. again. just like he did before.

his lips are soft, warm, and the feel of them against yours sends a thrill down your spine. again.

when you don’t pull away, he deepens the kiss, his hand moving to cup your cheek. your bag slips down from your shoulder, landing on the floor with a soft thud, but you barely notice.

you kiss him back, your hands finding their way to his chest. you could feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palms, matching the wild rhythm of your own.

"god..” he muttered against your lips, his voice rough. "i shouldn't be doing this."

"but you shouldn't stop either." you whisper, surprising yourself with the boldness of your own words.

a low groan escapes him, and his hands move to your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you. he kisses you harder, more desperate now, and you respond with equal fervor.

your fingers tangle in his hair, and his grip on your waist tighten as if he couldn't bear to let go. his lips leave yours briefly, trailing down your jawline to your neck, and a soft gasp escapes you before you could stop it.

"you’re too hot for your own good..” he murmured against your skin, his voice filled with both frustration and longing.

”yeonjun..."

he pulls back slightly, his forehead resting against yours as he catches his breath. his hands are still on your waist, holding you firmly in place.

"do you want to continue?” he asks, his breathing heavy as he looks at you through lust filled eyes.

your eyes widen slightly but you quickly nod, not showing even a hint of hesitance. you quickly pull him closer, connecting your lips again.

he slowly pulls you up, leading you to his desk, making your back touch the cold wood. he wraps his arms around your waist like you might disappear if he stops, his breathing getting heavier.

you don’t hesitate to pull him as close as you can, letting his body heat embrace you. you would be lying if you said that the pool of arousal in your panties wasn't increasing.

his lips are soft, exactly just like you imagined them to be.

you move your hands up his chest, reaching for the buttons of his shirt. he slightly pulls back, his lips not daring to leave yours but allowing you to take off his shirt.

you don't hesitate to show how much you want it, not wasting a second as you pop off all the buttons, but you let his shirt stay on his broad shoulders.

his hands move up to your thighs, caressing the soft and smooth skin as he lets his hands wanded up your inner thighs.

the touch starts slow and maybe even has a hint of teasing in it as you gasp against his mouth, a small string of saliva connecting yours and yeonjun's lips ad you slowly pull away to catch your breath.

he just smirks at you, his fingers finding the lace of your panties as his thumb slowly rubs your clit, making your breath hitch.

"m-more, please.." you whisper quietly, the fact that you're still in class making your urge to moan like a bitch and jump on him lower.

yeonjun's darkened eyes look at yours, slowly pulling the material that covers the place where you need him the most.

you bite your lips, looking at him with huge and pleading eyes, trying to hold back the little moans that escape your mouth.

"you can be quiet for me, right?" his voice is low and deep, making you whine and nod dumbly in response, mind already hazy. "good girl.."

he rubs your folds with his middle finger, collecting your arousal as he makes sure that you're ready and relaxed enough for him. he slowly pushes his finger inside you, your walls clenching around him.

"o-oh fuck, yeonjun..!" you moan quietly, looking up at the ceiling as you pray that no one walks in. he starts moving his finger in and out, enjoying your reactions.

he pushes a second finger in, curling them as he watches your expressions, looking for any discomfort but he only finds pure pleasure- your brows furrow and your mouth opens in an 'o' shape.

"f-feels so good.. f-faster..!" you're almost panting, slightly embarassed by how fast you're getting worked up, but the feeling of his talented moves makes it quickly disappear. he hums at your request, his long fingers finding your g-spot with ease.

your whimpers get more frequent, your hands grasping on his arm for some kind of support, thighs almost closing around his hand. he's quick to spread them widely and rub your clit with his thumb in circles.

"are you close, princess? wanna cum around my fingers?" he moves closer and whispers in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. you mewl out something incoherent in response, his free hand covering your mouth to silence your moans.

your eyes roll to the back of your head, walls clenching around his fingers like a vice as your hips buck up to meet his movements, gripping his arms and creaming all over yeonjun's fingers.

he lets out a groan of approval, slowly pulling out his fingers out of you, rubbing your clit to let you ride out your orgasm. he moves his hand from your mouth, tilting your chin up so you're looking at him. he puts his fingers in his mouth, licking up your release, eyes closing at the taste- he finds it divine.

he looks into your eyes as he slowly lowers his head down to your pussy, licking a stripe down all the way to your spent hole. he puts your legs over his shoulders, starting to devour you.

you let out a surprised moan, feeling slightly overstimulated. you don't stop him, your previous climax making you feel even more pleasure as you put your hand in his hair.

the wet sounds of slurping, moaning and panting fill the room as yeonjun treats you like his last meal. his tongue finds your hole, teasing it for a few seconds before spitting on your folds.

your hands grip his hair, maybe almost painfully, but it seems to spur him on even more, basically making out with your pussy at this point. you sob out, your eyes filling with tears of pleasure.

"i-i'm so close, s-so fucking close..! d-don't stop, please..!" he holds himself back from pulling his pants down and pounding you right now at the sound of your high pitched voice. he makes sure to do his best, and the last lick on your clit is what breaks you.

your creamy release gushes out of you again with a silent scream of his name as you start to squirm, thighs slightly shaking with your back arching and eyes closed. you feel him lick it up and you wail quietly, pulling his head up by using your hand that holds his hair and he just smiles softly.

"are you fine? let me wait a moment for you to calm down, hmm?" you don't let his words stay in your mind for long as you look him up and down. his lips are dripping with your juices, his hair messed up. you reach your hand to his crotch, feeling his dick twitch under his pants as you quickly take his belt off.

"so needy.." he chuckles at your eagerness, pulling his pants and boxers down low enough to free his erection that slaps against his abs. you lick your lips at the sight, immediately wrapping your hand around him.

yeonjun lets out a low groan, his eyes closing for a few seconds as he runs a hand through his hair. he slowly pulls your hand away, intertwining your hands together as he positions himself in front of your entrance. he starts to get impatient too, already extremely worked up. "can i?"

"d-don't be a tease and just do it.. i-i waited for it to happen for so long.." you try to move your hips and do the work on your own but he stops you, gripping your hips so they stay in their place. he slowly pushes the tip in, being the one to have his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

the feeling of you warm and tight walls feels even better than he could imagine, the feeling making him realize that he might have to hold himself from finishing way too quickly.

"yeah, did you? was my princess t-thinking about me..? how cute, i thought about you t-too.. dreamed about this little pussy every n-night.." he tries to control his voice, pushing himself in inch by inch, making sure to not hurt you. your hands wander around his body as you wrap your arms around the back of his neck.

you connect your lips together, letting your moans get muffled against his mouth. you tap his collarbone as a sign for him to start moving and he immediately gets the hint, starting with a slow pace.

his thrusts get more fast and hard with each move, the wet sounds of your arousal and lips smashing together fill his ears, making him grip your hips tighter.

you feel so full, and you swear that if you pulled away from his lips and looked down you would see the bulge in your tummy. you don't want to pull away from his lips, they feel so soft and sweet against you.

you wrap your legs around his waist, his hips rolling ata. fast pace, the rhythm making the two of you quickly reach your climax, sweaty bodies connected together. he slowly pulls away, whispering in your ear. "do you want your little pussy to get filled with my cum, princess..?"

you don't even give him a proper response and just moan and nod, brain turning into mush, the only thought you can form is how good you feel. you feel his hand reach up to your tit, squeezing softly as you reach your peak.

"f-fuck, fuck, fuck, princess..!" he lets out a breathy moan as he spurts inside you, moving his hips until he feels your mixed releases run down your thighs and drip down on the desk. it probably gets on some documents but he doesn't care, slowly pulling out.

you let out a small whimper at the sudden emptiness, the air around you is warm and thick. you look up at him, hazy eyes reaching his as he looks so good, you think that you could eat him alive if you could.

he reaches for a tissue, cleaning up the two of you with a soft expression as he presses a kiss to your stomach.

and you have no idea how it will change your relationship, but you're sure of the fact that it's not the last time something like that happened between the two of you.

🎧 @beomiracles @biteyoubiteme @tubasmiracle @choikanghuening <333

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