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bellaveux · 8 months

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BETWEEN THE PAGES | wanda maximoff x fem!reader

genre: college au! fluff, smut

summary: professor maximoff asks you out on a date.

content warnings: MINORS DNI! fluff, smut, college au!, unspecified age gap, professor!wanda, student!reader, bit of alcohol consumption, smut; service top!wanda, power bottom!reader kinda, making out, marking, fingering and oral (r! receiving), overstimulation, little bit of a praise kink

word count: 9.5k

note: i’ve been meaning to write another professor!wanda and black cat!reader fic so wrote this as kind of a prequel to AFTER CLASS but it’s long overdue lol. i hope u like it!

You always came to class early. That was the first thing she noticed about you. But, there was something about the way you entered her lecture hall for the first time, sitting just a few rows away from her desk, close enough for her to see you without anyone getting in the way. It was something about you that was so endearing. She just couldn’t figure out what exactly it was about you that made her stomach flutter and her heart beat faster than it typically does. Usually dressed in a skirt that gracefully swayed with each step and a cozy sweater that hugged your figure, you never failed to greet her with a shy smile each day you entered the room, and each time she swooned. Too cute. It was like that for the first few months: watching the door patiently to see when you would walk in, stealing glances your way when you were seated in front of her as she taught, or occasionally looking over the book she was reading while you were taking a test, reading a book, or working on notes. She couldn’t help it. It also didn’t help that you were not only beautiful but smart, too. Every test, assignment, and project she had given out, you nailed them with ease, almost like you'd already mastered the subject prior to her teachings. Perfect was what you were. She thought about it every day.

As each day passed, Wanda always looked forward to the days when you would enter her class. And she wasn’t trying to be a creep about it in any way, but she couldn’t help but look… and wonder. She wondered about what you were like outside of her class, if you were just as reserved and quiet as you were in here or if you were bubbly and talked a lot, and what your voice sounded like. You were quiet. And it wasn’t a quality that she didn’t like at all; in fact, it only made her more intrigued, like you were a mystery that she wanted to solve. In the quiet moments, when the world slowed down, her thoughts would invariably drift to you—your earnest gaze, your subtle smiles, the way your eyes seemed to light up the room.

But despite the elation of her thoughts of you, she makes sure to remind herself why you were here in the first place: you were her student. And for your professor to have such thoughts about one of her students, it was wrong. She knew this from the beginning. But try as she might to suppress her emotions, Wanda found herself captivated by your presence anyway.

And she really tried, to be fair. She tried to ignore her thoughts of you in her head, but she could only do so much. In the end, she couldn’t resist asking you to meet her after class during her office hours. She’d try multiple times to find the most credible excuse to get you to stay, and usually, she’d opt for subjects regarding your work and even ask you if you were interested in being a teacher’s assistant. Who in their right mind would decline that offer? You’d get paid on top of being alone in the same room with your favorite professor—the, despite her intimidating looks, easygoing professor that you had been fond of since day one. In fact, everyone liked her. Most of the students thought she was hot anyway, which you had to agree on as well.

The work she had you do was simple, for the most part. Grading papers and organizing paperwork and files for her were the most common tasks she gave you. Eventually she had you read a few essays and reports, asking you to judge how well they were written. Wanda thought of it as a learning experience—to read, collect your thoughts, elaborate, and then discuss with you on that same subject. It was a little nerve-racking, to say the least, but really, you enjoyed every second you spent with this professor. Especially since she was so nice to you.

And you’d be lying if you said you had never noticed her lingering eyes on you on several occasions. Sometimes she stands behind your seat and leans over to see your assignments, and you can smell her sweet perfume and feel her breath against the top of your head. Then, you’d be lying a second time if you said it didn’t make your stomach flutter each time she got close to you.

Of course, with the quiet moments you shared together each week, you began to notice some things you'd never noticed before: how she's unable to get to work without a hot cup of tea using that old, faded, and chipped mug that the university gave her a couple years ago, how she spends an extra few minutes in her office at the end of each day because she always misplaces her ID card, or how she constantly has her nose stuck in a book—a poetry book you’d often see, when she wasn’t reading those one of those meaty, mind-bending volumes.

And as time went by, you also began to notice more and more the way she would look at you. It wasn’t as if you were completely oblivious to her stares. You could see clearly when her eyes would linger a little longer than necessary, occasionally catching the flicker of a smile that your professor seemed to suppress. It was as if you had developed a sixth sense for each time her demeanor shifted or her eyes would trace over you, just as she was doing now.

"Is everything alright, Professor?" You say, your voice coming out smoothly, cutting through the quietness that filled the room.

"Yes, I’m fine." Wanda cleared her throat and turned away from you, her eyes darting back to the book she was supposedly reading. "It’s, um... I’m just lost in my thoughts."

"Lost in your thoughts or lost in trying not to stare too obviously?"

Your professor’s eyebrows twitched upwards, your question pinking her cheeks as she turned the page of her book mindlessly while attempting to hide her smile. "I assure you, (Y/n). This book is… intense."

"Intense?" You rolled your eyes, not entirely convinced by her excuse, as your eyes traced the cover of her book. "Hmmm, The Book of Nature… William Wordsworth?"

Wanda skimmed through the pages of her book and cleared her throat for the second time, "It's a deep exploration of... um, philosophical concepts. Quite thought-provoking, really."

"Philosophical concepts?" You repeated with a sly smile playing lightly at your lips. "Are you sure that’s what it’s about? If I remember correctly, Wordsworth is a poet, right? And you look pretty relaxed for someone who’s reading about some intense philosophical poetry."

"Well, I think philosophical debates can be strangely soothing sometimes," she told you with a chuckle, slowly making her way out of the nervous state she was in just a moment ago.

"Really? I mean, I love poetry, but that’s quite the intellectual balance you’ve got there."

"Yeah," she breathed, her confidence seemingly flowing from her body right in front of your eyes as she used a finger to adjust the collar of her button-up. "And speaking of balance, how do you manage to keep your work in check while being so captivatingly distracting?"

The blush that paints your cheeks presents itself much more quickly than you could’ve imagined. It was adorable. Managing to turn away from her this time, you avoid her eyes as yours land back down on the papers that were set in front of you, completely forgotten while being under your professor’s gaze. You could practically feel the smile on her face as she watched your every movement. Wanda pulled her office chair closer to yours, where you had brought an extra chair up to her desk as you worked. She set her book down softly, mindlessly leaning in closer and closer to your face as her eyes kept darting between your eyes and those delicious-looking lips of yours. Her tongue dragged itself along the bottom of her lip subconsciously as she stared at you, not even hiding her intentions this time.

"You make it awfully hard to concentrate, (Y/n)," she continued as her eyes traced over the contours of your face, down to the skin of your neck as it strained slightly underneath the collar of your sweater. "I find it rather difficult to stay focused when you’re sitting in front of me."

"Um, Professor… I think we should…" With a flustered smile and stern eyes, you motioned over to the clock right by the door, notifying her that her time with you was nearly up.

Wanda only smiled before speaking again, nodding her head as she leaned back slowly to glance over to check the time, "Of course. Do carry on with your student duties, Miss (L/n)."

To be honest, it’s the first time she has heard you talk so much. Your voice was delicate and smooth, a voice that she wanted to keep hearing over and over again. Talking to you was something she wanted more of. She was quite smug, thinking about how all the rest of the students who admired you for your intelligence and work ethic didn’t get to talk with you as much as she did or spend time with you as much as she did.

A triumphant warmth spread through Wanda's chest as she turned back to read her book. Successfully making you flustered had ignited a sense of giddiness she hadn't felt in a while. But, a calm smile played on her lips, a facade she effortlessly maintained to match your demeanor, masking the happiness that bubbled within her. It’s evident throughout the days, where fragments of her infatuation for you are sprinkled into every moment you spend together. In those moments, she loved everything about you—from the way you worked and focused on your tasks, to the way your voice sounded despite not talking all that much, to the way you furrowed your eyebrows when your eyes stumbled upon something that confused you, or when your lips would curve into that pretty smile she loved to see so much.

Eventually, Wanda came to terms with her feelings rather quickly, but made no move to pursue them just yet. For you to be her lover was something that was not allowed, especially in her profession. She’d also still have to tackle the subject of whether or not you harbored even the slightest similarity about whether you had the same interest as she did for you. During moments where she would sit alone in her office or at home, she’d often let her mind drift off to the thought of you and how she would treat you if she were able to call you hers. Gifts like flowers, books, or jewelry would gladly be given as attempts to make you happy. She’d give you flowers every day if it allowed her to see that smile of yours for even just one second.

The two of you spend the rest of the semester filled with mindless flirting and grading essays, projects, and assignments, all while Wanda reads most of the time, and by reading, you mean she skims over a couple pages and spends the next few minutes admiring the beauty that is you before her. And sometimes, she lets her mind wander just as her eyes do, down to the skin of your thighs underneath those black tights, wondering how it would feel to have her hands all over your legs. She wonders how you would sound, moaning her name as you give her the sweet taste of heaven. If you hadn't been so engrossed in the activity your mind was occupied with, you'd see how her eyes latch to your frame and the way her mouth waters at the sight. It takes everything in her to keep her composure and not pull you into her private office and have her way with you.

She wants to do this correctly, of course. She wants you to want it, too. Though, it may seem like you return her advances and all the rest of her flirty remarks, she wants to make sure it’s something you are sure of.

So, she asks. And she starts by giving you a gift.

"Shakespeare?" You questioned curiously, running a finger along the spine of the book as a shy smile slowly etched its way onto your face. "I didn’t really take you for a romantic, Professor."

She had given you a gift before you were able to step away so soon from her and her class room. The book—The Sonnets by William Shakespeare—rested neatly in the palm of your hand as Wanda watched you inspect it with eager curiosity. You had mentioned your love of poetry once, and with her own collection sitting in the comfort of her own home, she decided to give you one of the books that she loved so much. It was romantic and a tad bit cliché, she’d have to admit, but to make you happy just as you did for her was the only thing she wanted from this.

Wanda brought a hand up to scratch the back of her neck, her eyes darting down to the book in your hand, "Well, I-I appreciate the beauty in romance, yes."

"Thank you for this. I’ll make sure to read it over break," you say, holding the book tightly between your chest and your arm before turning to make your way out of the door. "See you next semester."

Wanda had pondered it, thinking how long the two weeks of winter break would feel with you away from her. The weekends already felt like too long of a wait before Monday came around—the first day of each week when you stepped foot in her class. She looked forward to every day because of you and loved thinking about you on the weekends, then she’d repeat it all over again. But, two weeks. Two whole weeks without seeing that pretty face of yours or hearing that quiet, pretty voice of yours—it sounded dreadful.

"(Y/n)?" She called out to you before you could step out of her empty lecture hall. "Can you stay for a bit? I have something to ask."

She asked you out to dinner in the next few minutes after going on a quite adorable ramble about her being so enamored by you that she couldn’t help but ignore her own boundaries as your professor and ask you out on a date. She was confident but, at the same time, so anxious to hear what you had to say about it. The stare you gave her after her little speech was enough to make her want to dig a hole so deep into the earth and crawl into it so that she’d never be able to see the light of embarrassment. Wanda watched as you clutched the book she gave you tightly in your arms. By this point, she was so sure you’d turn her down given how long you were taking to answer.

Of course, when you answered, she couldn’t process it correctly for the first few seconds, but as soon as she did, her eyes lit up just as brightly as the sun on a clear day. The smile she was biting back was contagious, making you roll your eyes and smile back as she fought the urge to wrap her arms around you. And for a moment, you even thought as if you could imagine a tail wagging back and forth behind her in excitement. You both agreed on next Friday night at eight in the evening, when she would pick you up, take you out to a nice restaurant, and treat you like a queen. You deserved a lovely evening out, and Wanda couldn’t wait to share it with you.

As she went about her daily tasks leading up to that Friday, an uncontainable excitement welled up within her, and she couldn't help but steal moments to envision the evening ahead, leaning back in her office chair to imagine the upcoming night with a dreamy smile on her face, the prospect of sharing dinner and conversation with you filling her mind. Her heart raced with anticipation, wondering what you’d wear on that night, wondering how even prettier you would seem so close next to her, wondering how your hand would fit in hers, and wondering if you’d let her steal a kiss or two, or maybe, if she was lucky, even more. And god, she prayed for all of the luck to be on her side for even just one night.

When Friday came, Wanda rushed home from her office at the university to get ready before she would drive to pick you up at the address you had emailed her—she forgot to ask where you lived, but before she could ask, you had emailed her your address a couple hours earlier. She smiled at the thought, being so excited for the date that she forgot to ask one of the most important questions. Wanda settled on wearing an all-black suit, one of her favorites, and made sure to smooth out every wrinkle with a precise touch, each movement revealing the anticipation bubbling beneath her calm exterior. She knew that your choice of attire was a mystery, and her all-black ensemble was a versatile canvas, ready to complement whatever you had in mind.

But, fuck, when she saw you—God, she was just in pure awe at the sight of you.

Wanda arrived a little bit early, the anticipation of your dinner date bubbling within her. She parked her car outside of your apartment building and leaned against it, one foot casually crossing over the other. She glanced at her watch, checking the time, but her heart raced with a different kind of countdown. As the moments passed, Wanda’s excitement only grew. But when you finally emerged from the building, the sight that greeted Wanda left her speechless. The dress you wore wrapped around your frame perfectly, the silky fabric resting on your soft curves, along with a daring slit that ran up your thigh, revealing a glimpse of your leg with each step you took, and it drove her absolutely crazy. Wanda's breath caught in her throat as she gazed at you; the sight of your shy smile made her heart race even faster.

Fuck, she wanted to say. And for a moment, she struggled to find her words, but not less than a second later, she managed to regain her composure, a smitten grin forming on her lips, "You look beautiful, (Y/n)."

"Thank you, Professor," you replied, smiling innocently up into her eyes in a way that drove her insane. "You’re looking pretty amazing as well."

Wanda couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement at your compliment, but she was still spellbound by the stunning vision before her. She offered her arm to you and walked with you towards the car, opening the car door for you. But, she couldn't shake the image of that tantalizing slit in your dress; the glimpse of your leg driving her senses into overdrive.

Throughout the night, Wanda found it nearly impossible to tear her gaze away from that slit in your dress. The subtle but alluring glimpse of your skin had cast a spell on her, igniting a fire of desire and fascination that she struggled to contain. Each moment she spent with you, Wanda's mind wandered, and she’d stumble on her words as she spoke, all because of her thoughts returning again and again to the sight that had driven her senses wild earlier. She couldn't help but steal glances at that tantalizing slit in your dress whenever you shifted or crossed your legs, her heart racing each time her eyes traced the path upward. And every now and then, you would catch Wanda's lingering gaze, a knowing smile playing on your lips. You seemed to relish the effect your attire had on your professor, your confidence growing as the evening progressed.

The date was going splendidly, with you and Wanda engaging in lively conversations, sharing stories, and relishing each other's company. You laughed together, savored delicious meals, and exchanged meaningful glances that hinted at your growing connection. Both of you were having a great time, enjoying the chemistry and camaraderie that seemed to come so naturally. However, your dress, still with its tantalizing slit, had become a magnetic force that Wanda found impossible to resist. It was as if her mind had been spellbound, repeatedly drawn back to that alluring detail with every glance in your direction. While you spoke passionately about your love for literature and your dreams, Wanda tried her best to maintain eye contact and stay engaged in the conversation. But time and again, her gaze would wander, trailing along the path of that tempting slit.

She stared all night, wondering what it would feel like to run her fingertips against your soft skin, wondering how you’d look when you slip out of your dress slowly, wondering how you’d sound—and the precious imagery alone caused all higher brain function to abandon her.

As the night continued, Wanda couldn't help but feel overwhelming happiness. Your presence was intoxicating, and your smile was a beacon that lit up the evening. It was a feeling she had longed for—the joy of being in the company of someone who not only understood her intellectually but also stirred something deeper within her. You were perfect. So perfect. She wouldn’t have had it any other way. Wanda was proud to have even come this far with you and wondered if you’d allow her the chance to take you out for a second time. She would be glad, too. God, she prayed you’d want to.

Dinner ended sooner than both of you would have liked. Wanda found herself lost in the sight of you the whole night, wishing she could linger in the moment a little while longer. And the idea of taking you home felt like an interruption to a masterpiece still in progress. She held your hand as she walked with you slowly down the path back to her car, which was parked a few ways away for this very reason.

But there was one thing Wanda couldn’t get off of her mind as she led you inside her car and started the drive back to your apartment—your lips. She wanted so badly, more than anything, to kiss you. Those lips that had been speaking to her for the entire night—she wanted to taste them and feel them against hers. With every passing streetlight, the desire to lean over and capture your lips at every red light only grew stronger. Her heart raced, and her fingers gripped the steering wheel every time she thought about it. The desire to taste the sweetness of your lips was undeniable. Yet, she hesitated. The night had been so perfect, and she didn't want to rush things.

"Thank you for tonight, Professor," you softly as soon as the car came to a slow stop in front of your building. "I had a wonderful time."

"Well, it’s not every day I get to have dinner with someone as beautiful as you," Wanda said, turning her head to face you as her hand gripped the steering wheel.

"You really know how to lay it on thick, don't you, Professor?" You rolled your eyes, trying to fight back the laugh that almost spilled from your mouth.

Wanda grinned from ear to ear and glanced at the street in front of her for only a moment, "I mean, only when it’s the truth—"

Mid-sentence, just as Wanda spoke, you leaned in and planted a soft, sweet kiss on her cheek, maybe a tad bit close to the corner of her lips. It was a sudden, tender gesture that caught Wanda completely off guard, making her grip tighten around the gear shift of the car. Then, you gently place your soft hand on top of hers, causing her vision to go hazy with clouds of lust, devotion, and affection. You don’t miss the way her ears turned red as you pulled away from her face.

Eventually, Wanda found her voice, though it was tinged with surprise as she stammered out, "Well, that was... unexpected."

In her mind, truthfully, she wanted to ask you to do it again and again and again. Maybe she’d ask for you to kiss her lips next time, but she’d never let you go off to do anything else.

"I think you’re too much of a flatterer," you chuckled softly, your fingers gently tracing the outline of Wanda's hand on the center console. "Do you say that to all of your students, Professor?"

Still slightly stunned from the tiny kiss, Wanda turned to face you. Her usual composure had been momentarily shattered by the feeling of your lips against her skin, and she met your eyes with a genuine, heartfelt sincerity, "No… just you."

The words slipped out of her mouth, unfiltered and genuine, carrying with them the depth of her feelings. In that moment, Wanda realized that her attraction to you was unlike anything she had ever experienced before. It wasn't just casual flirting with someone who she thought was pretty, as she did in the beginning; it was something deeper, something that had taken her by surprise the longer she had gotten to know you. Wanda's heart continued to race as she watched your playful expression soften, replaced by a warm and genuine smile.

"Do you want to come in, Professor?"

Wanda, still feeling the electrifying effects of the way your lips felt, faltered once more. The idea of spending more time with you was undeniably tempting, but she knew that if she continued this evening further, it would require every ounce of her self-control. Her hands ached to touch you, to run them along your waist and hips, and she longed to press her lips against yours over and over again. The dress you wore was not much help either; her eyes were always glancing down to that slit that showed off the soft skin of your leg. In her mind, a hundred affirmations echoed, each one urging her to say yes. So, she did.

You led her towards your apartment, hand in hand, walking down the softly lit halls of the building in a happy, expectant silence. Although she tried to hide it, Wanda could feel her own excitement building to an almost unbearable level. Her heart raced, and her breaths came a touch quicker as you led her to your place, the feeling of your hand in hers setting her skin on fire. When you reached the door, you fumbled for your keys with one hand, your other still firmly clasped with Wanda's. Your movements were deliberate, yet there was an undeniable excitement radiating from you, a subtle telltale sign that you, too, were looking forward to what lay ahead.

A sense of comfort washed over Wanda as she stepped inside, the atmosphere of your warm apartment enveloping her as she followed you in. She watched your hips as you walked in front of her, her cheeks and ears reddening at the sight once more. Your space was also thoughtfully decorated, exuding a lived-in charm that made it feel like home.

"I’m sorry about the mess. It’s usually tidier, I promise," you tell her, placing your bag gently on the counter in the kitchen before turning back to look at her. "I honestly wasn’t planning on inviting you in yet, but… I don’t know; I guess I couldn’t help myself."

Wanda, however, didn't seem the least bit bothered. Her warm smile remained unwavering, and she looked around with genuine appreciation. She swallowed the lump in her throat, her hands now stuffed into the pockets of her pants, coolly leaning against the wall, "No, I don’t mind it. And it’s not messy at all. It’s a lovely home."

Her eyes roamed over your cozy living room with its soft, inviting couch, adorned with a few well-placed cushions. The warm glow of dimmed lamps bathed the room in a soft, comforting light. Bookshelves lined one wall, their shelves cradling an eclectic collection of literature, each book seeming to hold a story of its own. The scent of a vanilla-scented candle lingered in the air. It was a cozy, lived-in scent that made Wanda feel instantly at ease—a reflection of you and everything you loved. And on your coffee table, amidst your own collection of books, she saw the one she had given you. It lay there, open and well-loved, with pages slightly ruffled and a bookmark placed near the end. In no way would Wanda have minded the mess at all, not when she was surrounded by the tokens of you and your life.

"I’m almost done with it," Wanda heard you say as she looked around your apartment. "The sonnets are really beautiful. I think I’m enjoying it better than his plays."

The professor raised an eyebrow at your claim, "Bold statement, (Y/n)… But I’m glad you’re enjoying it."

You smiled at her as you moved to get two glasses and a bottle of wine that you’ve been saving for special occasions, and this was definitely one of them. But when you turned to look back at Wanda, her gaze, once warm and affectionate, had intensified with desire and lust as she watched you pour the wine into the glasses. Her eyes held an unmistakable hunger, as if you were the most captivating thing in the world, and it didn't go unnoticed. Wanda's stare was so intense and filled with longing that it seemed to sear through you like a fiery caress. It made your heart race, and your breaths quickened as you tried to maintain your composure. With that look in your eye, you knew this night was about to get even more special.

"What are you thinking so hard about over there, Professor?" You asked with a smirk that made Wanda weak in her knees.

Wanda shook her head and bit her lip, her cheeks reddening at the topic of her own thoughts. She made her way towards you as you slowly lifted the wine glass to your lips. And although you were occasionally flustered by her intense gaze, you had a reputation for your own brand of composed charm. Wanda approached the counter where the wine glasses were placed, her fingers lightly caressing the stem of a glass as she lifted it herself. Her movements were fluid and sensual, drawing your attention like a moth to a flame. But this time, when she turned to face you, she found herself locked in a gaze that mirrored her own desire. Your eyes held a magnetic allure, an intensity that matched Wanda's in every way—your look was a silent challenge, a dare to see who would break first.

You brought the wineglass to your lips, and the woman in front of you watched with a heightened sense of awareness, her gaze locked onto the way your lips delicately touched the rim of the glass. Your soft and inviting lips seemed to beckon Wanda like an irresistible temptation. They glistened with the remnants of the wine, and a thousand thoughts raced through her mind. She couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to taste those lips and feel their softness against her own. She wondered how your lips would feel, how they would respond to her touch, and how you’d moan into her mouth. And she couldn’t get her mind off of it.

"Professor," you spoke, setting your glass down on the counter before stepping close in front of her. "I think… you’re thinking too much."

Wanda’s anticipation was palpable, and she held her breath as you closed the distance between the two of you, her heart pounding in her chest. As you stood so close, your breaths nearly mingling, you sensed that she was still overthinking the moment. And finally, in a bold move, your hands reached out, gently tugging on her suit jacket, pulling her even closer. The touch was electrifying, sending a shiver down her spine as your lips met hers in a deep kiss. Wanda's breath caught in her throat as your lips met hers, and she melted into the kiss with a soft groan, moaning at the sweetness of your lips that she had been waiting all night to feel.

You led her to your bedroom with your lips never leaving hers and your arm around her neck while your other hand pulled her jacket roughly off her shoulders. A laugh bubbles against your mouth as you trip over the rug on the way to your room, but Wanda catches you with a chuckle, her hands at your waist holding you against her. Your lips fit so perfectly against hers, and the taste of you on her tongue unlocked all of the desires she had been trying to keep at bay. All she could think about was you. Mere seconds have gone by when your back finally meets the soft comfort of your bed, all while Wanda explores your mouth with her tongue. She indulges herself in the taste of you and tugs desperately at your dress, just as you tried to undo her belt, albeit poorly. The gasp you let out when Wanda moved her head down to your neck, sucking, licking, and nipping at your sensitive skin, distracted you from your current task, leaving her belt loosely unbuckled.

"Mmh, Professor…" Your bedroom was painted with your needy moans and Wanda’s soft grunts as she pressed herself against you, your body pressed in between her and the mattress.

"Wanda," she murmured into your neck, leaving marks on your skin as her mouth explored. "You can call me Wanda… Please."

You smiled and ran your hand through her hair, urging her to look at you and bring her face close to yours just for you to say her name in the sultriest way that made the woman in front of you physically stutter, "Wanda."

Wanda swallows the lump in her throat, dazed as she watches your lips as you spoke out her name. She parted her lips, unaware of the hazy look in her eyes as she stared at you. Dragging her tongue over her bottom lip, she subconsciously leaned in to press another kiss to your sweet mouth, but you cupped her face with a soft yet commanding touch before she could close the distance. Wanda's breath caught in her throat, her heart racing as your gentle fingers caressed her skin. She felt a shiver run down her spine as your touch lingered, trailing slowly from her face, down her neck, and over her collarbone. Your hands moved with deliberate tenderness, unbuttoning the rest of her shirt one button at a time.

And she could only watch; her eyes locked onto your hands as if they were the most mesmerizing thing in the world. Your movements were slow, each button releasing its hold on the fabric with a soft, tantalizing pop. Wanda, lost in the sensations of your touch, was in a daze once again. Her eyes remained fixed on your hands, watching as they worked their way down, unbuttoning her shirt one by one. Your fingers brushed against her skin, leaving a trail of warmth and desire in their wake. With the last button undone, you gently slid Wanda's shirt off her shoulders, and it slipped down her arms, a whisper of fabric gliding to the floor. You couldn’t help but smile at her, hovering over you with a black bra on, her pants unbuckled, and her hair tousled from all of the making out. God, was she beautiful.

And Wanda thought the same thing about you, if not more. You still had your dress on, and the way you spread your legs a bit so she could settle comfortably on top of you did nothing but make her feral. Wanda’s mouth practically watered at the sight of your exposed skin. With a gentle and curious hand, her fingers danced along the skin of your leg, slipping under that same tantalizing slit that had been teasing her the whole night. She kissed your chest as she did so, but with the way you were squirming underneath her, Wanda couldn’t get the thought of your hot, naked, trampling body out of her head. And she could feel it—fuck, that lacy underwear you were wearing—as if you had planned this all along. It was driving her absolutely insane.

"You can take my clothes off for me," you whispered lowly into her ear, and for a moment, Wanda froze at your words.

Soon enough, her hands started pulling roughly at every piece of fabric she could get her hands on. She needed to see you. She was going to lose it if she didn’t see you. And despite how rough her hands were, Wanda carefully slipped the dress off of your body, undoing its zipper in a way you almost didn’t notice. But all caution was thrown out the window when Wanda finally laid eyes on your half-naked body. It was black lace underwear that you were sporting, and all she could think about was how stunning you looked. She sat there for a while, frozen and heated, her eyes raking over every inch of your body. To think that you were wearing this underneath that goddamn dress this whole time, god, it makes her absolutely exasperated with desire.

"I’m getting a bit cold here, Professor," you smirk, your fingers trailing up her pants, finally meeting her undone belt once again. "Warm me up a little?"

"Yes ma’am," Wanda breathed out and nodded, her hand ghosting over your skin once more as you opened your arms and urged her to come closer—the sight causing her to melt and a question she didn’t even think twice about spilling from her mouth. "Can I fuck you? Please?"

Almost immediately, Wanda leaned down and pressed her face against your body, littering soft and hot kisses along your stomach, up the valley of your breasts, your collarbones, and to your neck. She would lick, suck, and kiss all over again, marking your skin with the prettiest bruises. You almost forget to answer her question when she starts kissing you, but she pleaded once more. To let her do whatever she wanted, just say the word, and she’ll make sure to make you feel so fucking good.

"Please," she begged you, whining only slightly as she kissed your neck. "Please, (Y/n). Please—I'll do anything, I—"

"Touch me there," you said, slipping your hand into hers to lead it down to your warm, clothed center. "Right there, Wanda."

You let her fingers press against the fabric, feeling how undeniably soaked you were. Without a second thought, Wanda immediately circles your clothed pussy with the pads of her fingers, just getting lost in the feeling of your wet heat. Her jaw slowly drops as she watches her own fingers play with your cunt. She pressed even harder the moment she finds your clit underneath the thin fabric and when you moaned, arching your back slightly in the process, she lost all self-control. You don’t even get a second to catch your breath as Wanda immediately starts clawing at your underwear, pulling your bra off of your chest in the quickest way possible. And, when she moved her hands back to your panties to uncover the very treasure she was yearning for, you suddenly heard an unmistakable sound—the sound of fabric tearing.

Your eyes widened in disbelief as Wanda stared at the torn piece of underwear in her hands, "Did you just—"

"I’m sorry." Then she kissed you to give you something else to think about other than the fact that she just ripped your precious, laced underwear.

"You ripped—"

She kissed you again, murmuring against your lips, "I’m sorry, baby."

"That was expensive, you know. I just got it last week," you said, rolling your eyes, wrapping your arms around her neck as she continued to kiss your skin all over again. And it was working—when you felt her lips kissing you and sucking on you, you could barely think about anything else.

The corner of Wanda’s lips turned upward at the thought of you buying lingerie just for her, "I said, I’m sorry. I’ll get you another one, I promise… But, right now, I really want to fuck you. I want to fuck you until you can't move. Let me make you feel better, baby? Please."

Wanda's plea hung in the air, her voice a desperate whisper filled with desire. When she turned to look back at you, she did so with an intensity that made your heart race even faster. Already blushing from the heat of the moment, you felt your cheeks grow even hotter and hotter. Your gaze locked onto Wanda's lidded eyes, and you could see clear as day the raw need inside of them.

Your lips parted, and a deep, crimson blush spread across your cheeks. With a soft voice, almost breathless, you finally gave in, "You’re lucky I like you, Professor."

You were going to say more, but you couldn’t help the gasp that fell from your lips when Wanda dips two fingers into your pussy without any warning. She could feel you tense up around her waist, and your hands moved to grip her biceps as she started pumping into you at a slow pace, easing her way up to a faster one. Wanda’s jaw dropped once again, moaning as she felt just how tight, warm, and wet you were around her fingers. She could feel every sliver of you, your spongy walls wrapping around her digits, and you gasping right into her ear. God, it was so perfect. You are so perfect. She could fuck you like this forever.

"Does that feel good?" she asked, looking up at you with lidded eyes while her fingers continued to make their way in and out, in and out.

"Yes, right there," you nod quickly, moaning in her ear as your grip on her arms got tighter, trying to hold on for dear life as Wanda gradually got faster and faster. "You feel so good inside of me, Wanda. So good—ah!"

The woman reveled in your praise, unable to hold back her own moans as she watched her fingers, glistening with your slick, sink deeper and deeper.

"You’re sucking my fingers in, baby." And you truly were. Her fingers are buried deep in your pussy, and almost immediately, she finds that weak, spongy spot inside of you and begins to torture that button. With your moans getting pounder and louder, she penetrates deep against it, groaning into your neck as she listens to the music of your moans and whimpers.

After a moment of getting lost in the heavenly sounds that were spilling from your mouth, Wanda pulls your leg over to your chest, pumping her fingers in and out at a much faster pace than before. With her digits accelerating in speed, your body jolts and your moans go up an octave as Wanda continued to fuck her fingers into you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, feeling her press against that sweet spot inside your pussy over and over again, building up to the climax she had been working diligently to witness. And finally, the band holding you together finally breaks, your body succumbing to one of the best orgasms you’ve ever had in your life. Wetness pools all over her hand, and your pussy clenches tightly around her fingers. Wanda melts at the sight of your trembling body and shaky legs as your hands grip onto her biceps even harder, trying to hold on as she helped you ride out your climax.

When you calmed down, legs trembling against her, Wanda carefully pulled her fingers out of you with a squelch. She stared down in awe at your wetness, glistening all over her fingers and dripping down her hand. With her lips parted and eyes glued, you could not help but smile as you were catching your breath, still a bit hazy from the orgasm she had just given you. When you felt like the professor was taking a bit longer than expected, you reached down and gently brought her hand close to your face, her eyes following as you did so. And when you opened your mouth, you dragged your tongue slowly over the length of her fingers, and all Wanda had the strength to do was watch.

"Fuck," Wanda breathed out as you licked her hand clean of your essence.

You pulled Wanda in by the neck to kiss her, and she groaned into your mouth when she tasted your juices on your tongue—the taste of how good she made you feel. After pulling away to catch your breath once more, Wanda made her way back down again, leaving kisses along your skin as she traveled to the heavenly space between your gorgeous legs. And with mere inches away, she could smell you, smell the taste of you, and it lingered on her tongue, only making her yearn for more. The scent of you floods her senses, and she leans in with lidded eyes, lost in the thought of having you come right into her mouth. God, she wanted it—she needed it.

She was so close—her mouth was so close. You were right there, all ready in her mind for the grand meal she was about to indulge herself in. And with a soft but firm hand holding her head back by her hair, you stopped her.

"Not yet," you told her, shaking your head slightly as your fingers threaded through her hair.

"What?" Wanda gives you another dazed look, confused and almost frustrated with the fact that you interrupted her on her way to a heavenly meal.

"Not yet," you repeated once again, louder and clearer, with a more demanding tone. "I want you to watch me."

With her eyebrows raising in surprise, Wanda wondered what it was you had in store for her, "Watch you?"

With a teasing smile, you took your hand off of Wanda’s head, slowly dragging your fingers against the inside of your thigh, then in between, the soft pads of your fingers meeting your clit. There was nothing else Wanda could keep her eyes on except the way you pressed softly onto your clit, with another moan slipping out. Your clit was wet and slippery, coated with your juices. You could feel her heavy breath against your pussy, just centimeters away from her face, and all Wanda could do was stare. The sound of your quiet whimpers filled her ears, and it took everything inside Wanda not to dive in, face first, into your heavenly heat.

You must’ve known. You must’ve known what you were doing; keeping her desperate and begging while also checking if she’d be good and obey. And although it was hard to keep away, Wanda followed your orders and watched. With her eyes stuck to that precious button you were torturing all by yourself, she couldn’t help but pant slightly, like an obedient dog waiting for its signal to start eating.

Soon, you were getting close all over again, and Wanda was disappointed that it was not her doing. Although your moans and whimpers were more than enough to fuel her desires, waiting to touch you almost became unbearable, but she remained still, her eyes still glued to your pretty pussy as you touched yourself.

"Let me—Let me touch you," Wanda pleaded, unable to take her eyes off of the way you were rubbing your fingers against your sensitive bundle of nerves. "Please, let me help."

"N-Not yet," you said again, your body writhing more and more as each second passed.

With a groan, Wanda dropped her head down against the plush, inside part of your thighs, holding you down as you chased your own high. She kept watching with her mouth open as she resisted each and every urge in her body that told her to ignore your order and just jump right in, but she held herself back. She didn’t even know how, but she knew that once you allowed her, you’d reward her with the best meal and orgasm you could ever give her.

And just as you were about to hit your peak, you let one word slip, "Now."

Wanda finally opened her mouth and let her tongue fall. Her jaw drops as she lets her tongue travel from the bottom to the top, dragging it through your folds and swirling it messily around your clit. The taste of you was as blissful as angels singing in her mouth, as if her tastebuds had been blessed by the gods themselves. Your cries and moans rested well on Wanda’s ears, doing nothing to stop her from eating you out so fervently. A pleasured groan fell from Wanda’s muffled mouth as you tugged harshly at her hair, Her breath was hot, and your pussy had you squirming beneath her. It was heaven for Wanda. God, she’d give everything if it meant being able to live the rest of her days down here, with her head between your legs and your pussy in her mouth. She’d be set for life.

Your poor clit was already so sensitive, and Wanda was lapping at you like a thirsty dog. Your precious brain couldn’t even focus anymore, and all you could think about was Wanda’s tongue. And because of how close you were just before she started, your orgasm started to build higher and higher in a matter of seconds. Her mouth showed no remorse, and the lewd noises only made you flush deeper. With her thighs squeezing her head between your thighs, Wanda devoured you, holding you still with ease despite your constant squirming. Then, she wrapped her mouth around your clit, and sucked, and sucked, and sucked, and sucked, until she had you screaming her name into the air as you came inside of her mouth.

And yet, she doesn’t stop.

"W-Wanda, I—"

"Not yet," she said, voice muffled as she continued to fuck you through your orgasm, her tongue swirling and licking every crevice in and out of your sex.

Your words die in your mouth, and you let out a squeal as she buries her tongue right into your pussy all over again, licking and swirling it inside of you as you whined about how it was too much for you to handle. But, she kept going anyway. And fuck, you felt incredible wrapped around her tongue; it drove Wanda insane. Your body was hot, trembling at the mercy of her touch, screaming out as Wanda continued to overstimulate you. She was now far from being gentle. How could she? When you had been teasing her all through the night with that slit in your dress and those eyes that were begging her to do something? Occasionally, she’d open her eyes to see you arching your back, screaming into the pillow, and it made Wanda moan against your pussy, the vibrations doing more to stimulate you.

With her eyes glued to your body as your legs tensed around her head and your stomach clenched as you moaned, Wanda whined and pushed herself further into you. Her hands were now spreading your folds open as she dragged her tongue up and down your fold before wrapping around your clit once more. Even when you finally gushed inside her mouth, she kept going, even with your entire body enveloped in shivers, as she savored each and every drop of your essence.

"I think–It’s too much—" you tried to say.

But, she just hit you with the same words all over again, "Not yet."

And she’d make you come a third time, then a fourth, then a fifth—until you couldn’t take it anymore. By the end of all of it, Wanda goes back up to your face, her heart racing faster as she sees your tear-stained cheeks and a lazy smile on your face as you try to look at her. She wipes them clean with her thumb and kisses them with her lips, using her other hand to calm your trembling body by running it along your quivering legs.

You reach out for her with a whimper, trying to grab hold of her, begging for her care as she soothes your body. Wanda smiles and re-kisses each bruise she left on you, all the way up until she makes it to your mouth. She kisses you softly and gently, and you can taste yourself right on her tongue. Nuzzling your face into her neck, Wanda pulls your body to lay on top of her, securing a tight and comforting hold on you as you began your drift to sleep.

It’s everything Wanda could have ever wanted—to be with you. It was perfect. You were perfect.

"You did so good, Wanda," you said sleepily into her skin, muffled as you spoke. "So good for me."

"I think I should be the one saying that, (Y/n)," she replied with a proud smile as she ran her hand through your hair. Eventually, her hand rested on your cheek, soothing her thumb over your skin as you began to let your eyes flutter closed at her soothing touch. "You are… so beautiful, darling… So perfect."

You almost fall asleep after a few seconds. Her touches, the feeling of her breathing, and the way her skin felt was everything you ever wanted and more. Wanda laid there with the same thought in her head, her heart filled with an overwhelming sense of love and contentment. As she gently brushed a strand of hair from your face, she couldn't imagine a more perfect moment.

“I have something for you,” you say, voice rasp and groggy as you moved reach something from the drawer of your side table. “It’s nothing special… it’s just… you keep losing your card, so..”

You couldn't help but feel a touch of nervousness. You had spent hours searching for the perfect gift, wanting to express you affection for Wanda in a meaningful way. Yet, when you were finally about to give it to her, you couldn't help but feel a bit shy about its simplicity.

But then, Wanda's eyes lit up with curiosity as she accepted the small box and carefully opened it. Inside, she found a cute red lanyard with a playful pattern, and her heart swelled with affection. She held it delicately in her hands, her fingers gently tracing the tiny pattern that adorned the fabric. It was a simple yet thoughtful gift, and she couldn't help but feel a rush of affection for you for choosing it.

Your shyness melted away, replaced by a radiant smile, as you watched Wanda’s joy. You couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth, knowing that your gift had brought a smile to the professor’s face.

Wanda turned towards you, her eyes soft with emotion and her heart full. She reached out and gently cupped your cheek with her hand, her thumb tenderly brushing against your skin. With a sweet and sincere smile, Wanda leaned in slowly, her lips meeting yours in a gentle kiss. Your lips met like two puzzle pieces finally fitting together, and for that moment, the world seemed to fade away.

“It’s perfect,” Wanda says, unable to suppress the way her lips curved upward. “Thank you.”

Then, each day as you arrived for class, your heart couldn't help but skip a beat when you saw Wanda. What caught your attention immediately was the sight of the red lanyard that Wanda wore around her neck. It didn't matter if Wanda's outfit matched the lanyard or not; it was always there, a constant presence, and a sweet reminder of the thoughtful gift you had given her. On some days, it stood out vividly against Wanda's attire, a burst of color that added charm to her ensemble. On others, it contrasted playfully, a delightful pop of red against more subdued colors. But in any case, it was always there.

Over the next few weeks, You and Wanda found yourselves in a whirlwind of newfound affection and stolen moments. In the classroom, your glances became a language of your own. Wanda would catch your eye from across the room, and a playful yet affectionate smile would curve both yours and her lips. It was as if you shared an inside joke, one that no one else in the class could comprehend. As the days went by, their desire for each other grew. They were days off of stolen kisses, lingering glances, and shared smiles that only you could fully understand.

One day, in the middle of a lecture, Wanda couldn't resist the urge any longer. She discreetly slipped out of her seat and gently tugged at your hand, pulling you slightly behind and into a closet at the back of the room, out of sight from her classmates' curious eyes. With a mischievous smile and a twinkle in her eye, Wanda leaned in and pressed her lips against yours. It was soft and tender, a tantalizing taste of their affection that left both of you breathless. The classroom continued with the lecture, seemingly oblivious to the hidden exchange.

Yet, for Wanda, those stolen kisses were like sweet secrets shared only between the two of you.

— navigation!

#bellaveux writes!#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #marvel x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen #marvel #avengers x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda maximoff x female reader

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azsazz · 2 months

Text

Midnight Muse (Part 24)

Azriel x Reader [Art School AU]

Summary: You and your best friend Feyre have just moved into a new apartment for your sophomore year of college at art school. What you didn't know when you signed the lease is that you'd be living next to three rowdy boys.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3,511

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Part 15] [Part 16] [Part 17] [Part 18] [Part 19] [Part 20] [Part 21] [Part 22] [Part 23] [Masterlist]

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Things slowly begin to enter a new normal.

You go to class, see your friends, and spend most nights with your boyfriend, licking, teasing, tasting each other on every available inch of skin you can find. The five of you hang out as a group and you’ve never been happier.

You’re even passing art history, thanks to Azriel’s fool-proof system of studying; a sexual favor in exchange for every correct answer you give.

For the most part, everything seems like a dream. Compared to the beginning of your year, it is. There's still that niggling feeling inside of you that you just can’t seem to get over, though. As you sit in the art building working on your project for Alis’ class, you’re not entirely sure what to do. It’s the last assignment before the semester ends and you’ve started and restarted the drawing three times already, all of your attempted creativity fizzling out within hours.

Now, with only two days to go before it’s due for critique, you’re on the cusp of tears. It’s not from lack of trying, but because you’ve been forcing yourself to tap into your inner creative and find your muse. You want to create something that you’re proud of, but there’s nothing for your heart to grasp onto, no genius ideas that make you want to pour your soul onto the paper.

You’re starting to think that you might fail this class.

Feyre had offered to tag along, but she’s already finished her project fairly quickly after the assignment was given out, and things have been a bit awkward between you and Lucien since he found out that you and Azriel are officially dating.

Naturally, the event had occurred after one of your drawing classes. It almost felt like deja vu, with the way Azriel was waiting outside of the building. This time, you were more than happy to see your boyfriend, who was leaning up against the side of his motorcycle, helmet tucked under his arm with a second one perched beside him.

You could admit that you’re starting to enjoy riding on his motorcycle with him. He’s even taken you to his favorite spot where he often goes to draw or think, escaping the stressors of his life back on campus such as his father pestering him about the buying building he lives in. He hasn’t responded to a single text message.

“(Y/N), hold up a minute,” Lucien said, stopping you from going down the stairs of the building to meet your boyfriend with a hand on your shoulder. Feyre continues downward after you gently wave her on, but you don’t miss the way Azriel’s eyes narrow.

“What’s up, Luc?” you ask, although you already know what he’s wondering. It doesn’t take a genius to understand that whatever you and Azriel had started out as is now the complete opposite. He’s no longer your infuriating neighbor, but the boy you you’re slowly starting to fall—

Thankfully, Lucien interrupts the thought before you can dwell on it too long. “What’s going on with him?” he asks, jerking his head to where Feyre and Azriel are talking quietly. The latter watches you and Lucien’s exchange intently. “I thought you two hated each other, but now you’re hanging out with him all of the time? Did I miss something?”

A pang of guilt gnaws at your stomach. You feel bad for not telling Lucien about your newfound romance with Azriel, but you’ve been wanting to tell him over lunch or coffee, but with the end of the semester projects and tests coming up, the both of you had been too busy to properly hang out.

Your cheeks heat and it’s hard to look him in his eyes when he looks so confused. “Yeah, um, Azriel and I are sort of dating now.”

Lucien frowns, “Sort of?”

“We are,” you shake your head, answering more solidly this time. “We’re dating.”

You don’t miss the hurt that flashes through his eyes. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

You sigh, kicking and digging the tip of your shoe into the concrete for something to focus on. You don’t like the way that Lucien is looking at you, like you’re no longer his friend, which isn’t the case at all. Sure, you know that for whatever reason he and Azriel don’t see eye-to-eye, and you can admit that you’ve only fed into that storyline by spending most of your time these days with Azriel and not taking the proper time to check in with your friend, but right you feel like you’re the one at blame for not reaching out.

It seems as if Azriel has had enough, pushing up from his motorcycle to ascend the stairs. His strides are long, sure, and his spine straightens with each step closer he takes, shoulders widening and chest puffing.

“Hey, princess.”

“Azriel,” you greet with a nervous smile, accepting the way he tucks you into his side and presses a kiss to your cheek. His hand is firm against your hip and you enjoy the way he feels, the way he allows you to siphon some of his strength for this conversation. “This is Lucien. Lucien, this is Azriel.”

The two boys stare at each other, sizing one another up. It makes you shift on your feet but Azriel’s hold only tightens, showing you off, staking his claim.

It’s awkward, to say the least. Neither of them greet each other and it's as if they’re both waiting for the other to look away first so the other can snap at their neck like a rabid dog. You shoot a look towards Feyre but her head is buried in her phone, an enormous smile on her face, completely oblivious to the pissing contest that’s happening up the stairs.

A muscle ticks in Lucien's jaw before he rips his gaze away from Azriel to settle back on yours. He gives you a single nod, and you’re not sure how to feel when his throat works around a swallow, his normally honeyed voice coming out rougher. “I have to go, actually, before I’m late. I’ll see you around, (Y/N).”

“Lucien,” you call, but he’s already turned down the stairs and is brushing past Feyre, whose eyebrows furrow with concern at the sight of your friend. She tries to speak to him but he brushes her off gently, and when her heavy blue-gray eyes settle on you, you deflate into Azriel’s side.

You feel similarly to how you did then, defeated and glum. The piece of drawing paper before you is filled with the darkness from your charcoal, your fingers coated in the chalky substance, and the shapes you’d been sketching stare back at you, taunting you, because no one is going to be able to finish this except for you.

It’s a fairly simple task, to draw yourself as some sort of hybrid, but as you look in the mirror hanging to your left, you can’t seem to figure out what kind of creature resonates with you. Feyre had drawn herself as some sort of beast, her true self, she claimed. When you had asked Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel what they had done when they took their drawing classes, Rhysand said he drew himself with dragon features, Cassian morphed himself with a grizzly bear, and Azriel had drawn himself with the bat wings inked across his back.

The last time you spoke with Lucien before your relationship became strained, he’d been drawing half of his face as a fox, and you’d seen one of the other girls in your class, Vassa, you think her name is, drawing herself as a phoenix. Everyone seemed to light up with their ideas immediately when Alis had announced the final project, and you had only ducked your head, unsure of what to do.

Voices trickling down the hall startle you from your thoughts. You set your chalk down as you recognize the tenor, the laughter echoing around the silent building. Azriel and Cassian appear in the doorway to the classroom. Cassian’s splattered with clay from having been working on his own final project of the year, something he’s been boasting about but refuses to tell anyone what it is, and the smile that lights Azriel’s face when his eyes connect with yours is perfect.

You hadn’t realized how tense your shoulders had been, but the way they deflate at the sight of him makes you realize just how tired you are. There isn’t much time left until your project is due, and you’re sure to remind yourself that once again, you need to focus.

But the way Azriel’s eyes drag down your hands, coated in soot from the charcoal, flaring with heat, you’re forgetting your deadline and the project you’ve barely started completely.

“Hey, princess,” Azriel greets, leaning down to press a firm kiss to your mouth. You can’t help but to slant against him a little, your energy from your long night sapped. His hand caresses your cheek and he frowns a little, examining your exhausted and frustrated state.

Your heart flutters at the warmth, at the care he shows you. How he isn’t afraid to hide his hands from you because you’ve spent night after night showing him just how much they mean to you.

“Hi,” you reply with a soft yet strained smile, you turn to Cassian next. “Hey, Cass.”

“Hey (Y/N). How’s the art project coming along?”

You sigh, leaning further into Azriel’s warmth. “Not amazing, if I’m being honest.”

“What’s wrong?” Azriel asks, “It looks like you have a solid start.”

You crinkle your nose, examining your paper. It looks more abstract than anything, and you wonder for a moment if Azriel’s just being nice about it. But you know him better than that, and he would never tease you about a craft so dear to both of your hearts.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you groan.”I’ve started over three times.” All you want to do is throw your head in your hands but you don’t want to get chalk all over your face, unless Azriel is the one putting it there. Naked.

Maybe having sex will help get your creativity flowing?

Your boyfriend frowns for a moment, examining your work. You can see the cogs turning in his head, how he might help you figure out what to draw for your project. Of course, you could easily draw any animal mixed with yourself, but you really want this one to have meaning behind it.

“Why don’t you take a break and we can all grab something to eat?” Azriel suggests. “A break might do you some good, and Cass and I were going to head over to Ritas.”

A hot waffle and a large milkshake sounds absolutely superb right now, to be honest.

You stare at the paper before you. You really should stay and put in a few more hours of work, but at the same time you can’t stand to stare at it any longer.

Two more days. You still have two more days.

“Yeah, I could use a snack,” you agree, picking up your pencil box from the floor and tossing your sticks of chalk into it. “Give me a few minutes to pack up.” You stand from your art horse, eyeing the mess of black. “You should too, Cassian. You’re covered in clay.”

He only grins and you—once again—regret saying anything to him. “The ladies like it dirty, (Y/N). But you know a little something about that, don't you?”

You try to force the warmth from your cheeks as you think of just how thorough Azriel had been the last time he drew you. How up close and personal he’d gotten with his stick of charcoal, how up close and personal he let you get with some paints you’d bought.

Sometimes you love being an artist.

“Fuck off, Cass,” Azriel gripes, flipping your large sketchpad shut. He helps you pack your things while Cassian snickers, and his eyes are hot when you rub your hands together, trying to dispel the dust from them. He slings your backpack over his shoulder and your sketchpad under his arm while you dart off to wash your hands before Azriel can get any ideas.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Rita’s is…bustling for a Friday night.

It looks completely different from when you’d been here last. No sign of the irritable waitress, no sign of anything really, you’re unable to see through the mass of the crowd, stuffed in booths and gyrating in whatever open space is left.

The lights are low. A colorful disco ball spins in the center of the diner that you hadn’t even noticed your first time here. Spots of color percolate around the room, seeming to guide the students on the little dancefloor as they sway their bodies, the tables lined up against the walls for this purpose.

“Rhys and Feyre are on their way,” Cassian says, reading a message on his phone before swiping at the screen. You don’t see the way that his eyes darken at whatever notification pops up because Azriel’s tugging you through the crowd.

The air is hot with bodies and laughter and as you make your way through the throng of people, you’re glad Azriel had talked you into a quick pit stop at the apartment to put your things away, as if he had known the diner would look like this tonight. He must spend more time here than you thought because he eases through the crowd, shoulders lax, letting the clubby music pouring from the jukebox wash over him.

“Are you sure this is Rita’s?” you call over Azriel’s shoulder, genuinely confused to how the dingy daytime diner has turned into this delightful nighttime dance party.

He tosses you a smile over his shoulder that makes your heart flutter.

“It’s where all of the cool kids go before and after the bars,” Cassian teases when Azriel finally finds an empty spot for the three of you to stand. He’s scouring the restaurant as if he’s looking for someone and returns his hazel gaze to you with a lazy grin. “C’mon, (Y/N), it’s like you don’t even go here.”

You roll your eyes, grumbling a little as Azriel pulls you to his front, settling his hands on your hips. The music is surprisingly loud but it’s good, causing you to roll your hips a little with the rhythm. Your boyfriend’s grip tightens, pulling you closer, and you can feel the interested bulge in his pants as his breathing turns heavier with your motions.

“Spent most of my time at house parties last year,” you answer, shouting over the volume of the bar. “I’m hardly of drinking age, lest you forget.” You lean towards Cassian so he can hear you, pressing your ass further into Azriel’s cock. His thumb sneaks under the hem of your shirt, brushing against your exposed skin, sending a shiver up your spine.

As if he isn’t the one that brought you here, he seems to have changed his mind fairly quickly.

“In that case, allow me to buy you a drink, my lady,” Cassian bows a little, taking his time eyeing the lower region of a girl that passes by. “What are you having?”

You shrug, no longer in the mood for a milkshake. You scan the crowd, flickering over everyone on the dancefloor as you mull it over. “Something with rum,” you answer, and you don’t even think he’s listening anymore as the girl gives him a salacious smile over her shoulder and he starts chasing tail.

“Think he’s coming back?” you ask over your shoulder. Your squeal is eaten up by the changing of songs as your boyfriend spins you abruptly in his arms, plastering his hips against yours in a slow grind that matches the heavy bass that makes the crowd cheer in excitement.

“Don’t care,” he breathes into the shell of your ear. He follows his words with a nip at your lobe and you bite your lip, winding your arms around his neck.

“Azriel,” you tut, but you can’t stop looking at his lips. His stare is hot and his hold is demanding, keeping you glued to his front as you grind your hips against his teasingly. “Cassian is your friend.”

“I don’t want to hear another man’s name on your lips right now, princess,” Azriel all but growls, golden eyes igniting.

“What do you want?” you ask breathlessly, your nipples tightening into pebbles beneath your shirt.

You’re thankful no one’s eyes are on you right now, all lost in their own conversations or dances with their partners. You don’t think it would matter if they were looking anyway, because you’re so focused on Azriel and the way his body reacts to a simply press of your body against his, warmth flooding you the way it always does when he’s around, that you might need that drink poured over you to pull your attention from him.

“First, I want to take you home,” his hand strokes a long line up your spine and he buries it in the hair at the nape of your neck. You gasp at his firm hold, arousal dripping to your core when Azriel uses that hand to guide your head away from him to suck at your neck. You arch into him, eyes rolling into the back of your head. “Then, I’m going to strip you of all of these clothes,” his free hand grabs a handful of your ass and your approving hum sounds more like a moan. “And I’m going to ask you to ride me, princess. I want you to guide my cock into your tight, drenched pussy and take what you want, because you’re my needy girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” your nails rake down the back of his shirt.

“And when you’re cumming on my cock, squeezing me tight, I want you to—”

“Your drinks,” Cassian says gruffly, shoving a cup between you and Azriel. It forces him to stand straight, glaring absolute daggers at his best friend but it seems to bound off of Cassian’s shoulders easily, because he looks just as pissed.

You’re still a bit dazed, so it takes you a moment or two to figure out what’s going on. Azriel won’t let you leave your position, can’t let you leave your position because his boner if full on fucking raging right now, but he does allow you to turn around again, taking the drink from Cassian to quickly take a sip, trying to quench your parched throat.

“Thanks,” you say but Cassian hardly acknowledges it, passing a beer over to Azriel. He had two still clenched firmly in his free hand but he takes one and slams it back quickly, emptying its contents before Azriel’s even had a sip of his own.

“You okay, Cass?” Azriel asks, his hand sliding protectively over your hip. There’s no need to protect you from Cassian, but even you can admit as you shift from one foot to the other, that it’s weird seeing him like this. Not as carefree as he normally is.

“Fucking dandy,” Cassian grunts, hazel eyes grazing down where you and Azriel are still pressed tightly together. He looks away just as quickly and you think you see his lip curl a little.

Azriel stiffens behind you.

What the hell is going on with him?

Before you have the chance to ask or Azriel has the chance to bait him, Feyre’s pushing through the crowd, towing Rhys behind her. One girl glares at her as she passes but Feyre doesn’t seem to notice, eyes lit with happiness when they finally reach your little group, unaware of the clouds of tension bubbling around the three of you.

Cassian makes an effort not to choke down his entire second beer but it’s all too tempting. He takes a deep sip so he doesn’t have to speak.

“Hey,” she greets, cheeks a little flushed already. Rhysand and she must have been drinking before they came out. Or had sex.

“Hi,” you respond, trying to keep your grip on your cup relaxed. Cassian is acting strange. You glance up at him again but he’s avoiding eye contact with everyone right now, glaring into the mass of people. Yup, definitely avoiding looking at any of you.

“Rhys,” you hear Feyre say as you share a confused look with Azriel. His brows are pulled tight as he examines one of his best friends. He’d seemed fine back at the art building, his normal cheery and cheeky attitude threatening to drive him up the wall, so what happened between then and now? “Will you go get me a drink, please?”

“Of course, Feyre darling,” he agrees, but Cassian’s already shoving past him, muttering how he’ll get them drinks. Rhysand’s mouth parts but Cassian has already disappeared into the crowd. Well, as much as any six-foot-five man can disappear. “What’s his problem?”

Azriel shakes his head, taking a sip of his beer. “If we only knew.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

MM Taglist Part 1: @justvibbinghere @nickishadow139 @going-through-shit @honeycriess @natashachelsea @thisisew @kennedy-brooke @cat-or-kitten @sourapplex @magical-mischief-makers @reiincarnatiion @ccucumebrs @secret-ly-here @throneofsmut @cami26cami @torchbearerkyle @a-frog-with-a-laptop @sevikas-whore @endless-worldss @vellichor01 @bangtans-jagiya @kalulakunundrum @pinksmellslikelove @sakura-frost3-blog @imxnotxhere @bookishbroadwaybish @justdreamstars @i-am-infinite @whichwitchisthebitch @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @sia-r @ssmay123 @blackthorngirl @haivenhoule @18crazybutcutealsopsycho @bloodicka @wilmalovegood @jw83 @acourtofbatboydreams @hannzoaks @judig92 @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @ilikefictionalmen @harrystylesfan2686 @dr4g0ngirl @helensophie

#midnight muse #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel/reader #tattoo arstist!azriel #artist!azriel #art school au

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flokali · 2 months

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— Concept: Student Yandere and Professor Darling

Warning: GN! Reader, blackmail, n/on-con, d/ub-con, age gap, student-teacher relationship, push-over reader, unfair ending, n/oncon recording, uhh ask to tag!

A/N: just a concept that plagued me for a while... hhhhhhh;; i'm so normal ab this

Any dynamics that involve an authority figure and a subordinate, no matter how innocent they may initially seem, are doomed from the start for either or both of the parties involved.

There’s an underlying power imbalance, someone holds the authority over the other, there is no nice way to put it, unfortunately.

Most of the time, in fics, I see a lot of Yan professors creeping on their students, but the thought of a student Yan harassing their beloved professor has been plaguing my mind.

I see the relationship as one that starts sweetly, you’ve noticed a certain student in your course that’s been falling behind, making mistakes that should have long been addressed, their work is always late or partially done and you’re growing slightly annoyed at them for wasting your time and misusing theirs as well, you’d offered them private tutoring when you found out it seemed to be only your course where they were turning in these less than acceptable projects.

They reject, seemingly embarrassed that you’d even offered such a proposal. You try to calm their nerves down, you’re pretty young yourself, you only graduated a few years ago and you won’t charge them, it won't be a daily thing but they can pop in every once in a while at your office so you can review and work on assignments and such. The hesitant look on their face seems to slowly be melting off.

You continue insisting, you lay out the facts as they are; they’re a brilliant student who has been passing all other courses and extracurricular activities with flying colors, so why is that your course has become such a challenge to them? You’be seen them work and the way they behave during class, you’ve even noticed how some students go to them to try and clear up any questions and study together with them, rumors about them being easily one of the college’s star students were always going around, so it’s either that they’re making shit up and lying to their peers, which you doubt since you’ve seen their works before and after reaching out to them, or they were purposefully trying to fail your class, maybe they thought it’d be easier and decided to try it and decided from the get go not do their best – after all, it wasn’t as if all of the work they’ve handed is bad, there’s some clear understanding of what they’re doing, it’s just that they seem insistent on missing something, even if it means inconsistencies in their resume of work, the assignments that made up less percentage of the overall grade were done well enough but anything that was important was clearly half-assed. You explain your concern; you’re genuinely worried your class might hold them back from graduating with their peers, if things kept going on like this, they’d fail your class and if they did, they’d have to repeat the semester and risk graduating a year or so later.

It’s then that they pull out a card they’d been holding on to dearly for a situation such as this, a perfectly curated story meant to pull at your heartstrings and lead you into their honey sweet trap;

They start going on about a sob story about their parents’ jobs, how they were struggling financially for a while since their parents cut them partially off for choosing a college out of their town, and how they’re supposed to provide for themselves for things such as food and bills, about how their schedule is always so busy trying to balance college, their friendships, mending their relationship with their parents, and their job on top of all studying they’ve been doing, how your class had unfortunately been the least of their concerns and that they’re immensely sorry to have worried you and that they are willing to do anything to make up for their past grades.

You can empathize with such a dilemma, being fresh out of college yourself, the memories of balancing relationships, work, and academics are still freshly etched into your mind.

They clearly seem burned out and your heart aches seeing a student as promising as themselves dim down so drastically. You’d hate to be one class that impedes them from graduating on time, you don't want to be the lone profesor responsible for slowing down such a valuable asset to society.

You sit them down and try to offer them some advice, you were in a similar situation when you were in college yourself, you try to explain the ways you managed to survive and bypass college, going into detail about your own problems and how you were able to live through it all. They seem visibly more relaxed during the conversation, nodding along and explaining their own feelings and hardships, you both manage to sympathize with each other and come to an arrangement.

It’s completely under the table since you are worried what it might look like, but from now on until the end of this semester you’d use a more relaxed, less strict grading system for them, after all, they did have a legitimate reason for their behavior and they were willing to make up for it. That is, under the condition that they start taking tutoring classes from either yourself or a fellow classmate, they weren’t able to balance the studying schedule necessary so you’d try and manage at least one aspect of it for them to try and make their life a little bit easier.

They agree gladly, but not before asking if you could be the tutor, when you’d questioned their request they explain themselves, seemingly embarrassed for their own reasoning;

“I don’t want it to get out that I’m failing your class, professor…” The smile they wear seems genuine and shy and you nod in understanding, college students are only older teenagers, after all, most of them are still stuck in their high school mentality and you wouldn’t put it past a bunch of immature little shits to try and mess with someone who was struggling.

What you don’t know is that they’ve been planning for something like this to happen from the get go, always going out of their way to purposefully present themselves as a stupid, pathetic and incompetent student that would need their hot professor’s (your) help to pass the course.

During your first couple of sessions they work extra hard to make themselves seem as ditzy and clueless as possible, making as many mistakes and errors as humanly reasonable without getting you too annoyed at them. They even begin to dress in slightly more provocative ways, their speech seems more flirtatious, their touches linger on your shoulders for longer than necessary, but you brush it off, trying to ignore the signs, and think of it as a silly crush, opting to try to focus on helping them get through this semester with either a decent or average grade.

Their grades are getting better but with the current pace, you were afraid it wouldn’t be enough.

So, you ignore the uncomfortable, sinking feeling in your gut and suggest making your tutoring sessions more frequent - instead of once a week maybe twice or thrice if it was really necessary.

You didn’t expect them to suggest going to your place. Originally, you’d suggested either the library or a cafe, but they said they felt too embarrassed and self-conscious at the idea of their peers watching him, they claimed they’d probably make fun of them for needing help for a course they’d been taking for almost a whole semester at that point.

They insist on your place, but you reject the idea, they say it’s either there or at their place because elsewhere you both risk either staff or some of the student body seeing you both together and getting the wrong idea. The conversation goes on for hours until you’re exhausted and give in.

They are a good person, right? Even if the thought of a student knowing where you lived made you uncomfortable, it wasn’t like they’d do anything about it… right?

You try to limit the study space to your living room, the bathroom, and the kitchen every once in a while if you notice the snacks you had brought weren’t enough, but never further than that. Your bedroom and office were completely off limits, you’d made it explicitly clear that if you caught them wandering far you’d have no choice but to kick them out and stop the tutoring, possibly even having to call the campus’ authorities if you felt they were getting too out of line – your reputation be damned.

They also were only allowed to come over during the weekends and on specific weekdays where no one would be able to catch him entering your apartment.

They agree and promise to follow every single one of the rules you’d put in place.

But it doesn’t take long for them to start going back on their word and start “exploring” your living space, it started small – simply walking around your living room, examining framed pictures, looking over books, memorizing the placement of your trinkets and decor, making a mental note of the colors you used in the space, they make sure to remember to try and look up where you got your cushions and everything as well, they start looking into you fridge and pantry to make see what you eat, if there’s any indication of a possible food allergy; it’s all investigative work for your future together. It’s not too long before they’ve memorized your living room and are drawn to the rest of your house. They've gone to your bedroom and studied the space, taking note of the way you made your bed and how many pillows you have, they also have made a list of products you use and like, such as scents and soaps, to make sure your transition to their place is as smooth as possible. Soon, they could very well draw a floor plan of your place and recreate your home in the most basic of softwares.

The only reason you haven’t caught up to them is because they’ve taken to spiking your drinks with sleep medication, strong enough dosages that you’ll be knocked out for a while, but not enough that you’ll realize you were drugged.

It’s during your sleeping state that the next part of their plan starts to take action. They’ll purposefully plant evidence in your home of their presence and snap pictures, suddenly their underwear is in your laundry basket, and why are you wearing their hoodies to sleep, huh? They’re meticulously planned and staged pictures that make it look like you were engaging in a romantic relationship, but it’s not enough — they need more, something more extreme. More incriminating, something that would absolutely destroy your career and reputation if it came out.

What about a picture of them going down on you? Or one with their cum all over your face? Your naked figure cuddling up to their bare chest? Some makeup to look like hickies could look realistic in pictures too, you know. Maybe them on top of you… or you on top of them? Or one where your lips are sucking their fingers like a —! Ah, the thought has them blushing! All of these photos are like their dreams come true! You look like such a perfect spouse, taking their love~ They make sure to clean up the space, but they’re growing bolder and more confident in their work.

They even have videos of themselves jacking off on top of you, but they’re always so good at making it seem like you’re awake and participating in these activities! It really does look like you’re helping them get off with your own mouth.

You’re such a naughty professor seducing your innocent, sweet student like that!

It’s sick, they’re sick and they know it fully well but they don’t care, as long as they don’t get caught – there’s no way in hell they’ll stop.

Their grades begin improving and there’s no longer any fear of them failing your class, in fact you’d go as far to say they’ve easily become one of your best students in terms of grades. Things seem to be looking up and you’re pretty proud of yourself for having had a positive impact on them, which is why you come to the conclusion they won’t be needing your tutoring anymore.

You call them over to your office after classes, making sure to be as nice as possible. At first you were annoyed and put off by them, their initial behavior was unsettling and persistent, but after a couple of months of getting to know them you’ve grown to care for them and genuinely wish them the best, you’d pointed out how teaching them had been a joy and you’d always end the sessions feeling better than before, which is why you’d chosen to end the tutoring. You lay out the facts as they are, their grades have improved and there’s no longer any threat of them failing your class, you’d also be risking people misunderstanding the situation if it went any longer, if word came out you’d been using a different rubric to grade them until recently and that they’d been going over to your place, it would simply look bad for both of you. You’d risk getting sanctioned, possibly even losing your job if things were taken in the wrong way, and they could repeat the semester or even have their work in your class be null and having to take a new course entirely, if not even being kicked out.

There’s a minute of silence between the two of you, the air is thick and you wonder if you should have been softer in your delivery as you watch them process your words.

It takes them a while, you decide to give them the time because you have indeed noticed how they’d seem to grow ever so attached to you and they might take this a bit too personally, but you’re soon starting to grow increasingly uncomfortable as the silence continues.

You’re about to say something again, try to soften the blow with some generic encouragement about how they’ll do well regardless of you being their tutor or not, when you hear them chuckle softly under their breath.

You’re taken aback, your eyes widen in surprise and you unconsciously lean back into your chair, but that seems to have further encouraged their laughter as soon they’re covering their face with the back of their hand as they double over in laughter.

It’s strange but you decide to give them a few seconds to regain their composure, maybe this was a nervous habit? You’d heard of people who’d laugh when anxious, but you’d never seen something so theatrical.

They slowly sit back up, wiping tears from their eyes as a few chuckles escape their smiling lips. They haven’t fully calmed down but seem to be making an effort to continue the conversation nonetheless.

“Ah, professor,” your last name tumbles from their lips in a joyous manner but their eyes look icy as they stare at you, their voice feels more aggressive even if the words came out from a smile, “don’t be so ridiculous, I think things are working pretty well as they are, I have no desire to change our… relationship.”

You’re taken by surprise, their word choice feels odd and purposeful, but you insist regardless.

“There is no relationship between us,” you state, “I am your professor, do you understand? That means that if I say your tutoring is over, it’s over; I have been going easy on you and helping you out but do not misinterpret my intentions, you are my student and that’s where our acquaintanceship ends. If you think you’ll continue needing help, I’m certain our TA will be more than glad to step up and help you out.”

They smile as they take their phone out of their pocket and your stomach drops for a second, wondering what on earth they could have there. They slide it towards you after unlocking it, they’re carefree in their handling of the device and your nerves start to rise, a gut wrenching feeling settles in your stomach, you don’t really understand what you’re seeing at first but once you do you feel your blood run cold.

You don’t even realize they’ve walked behind your chair, too focused on the picture of your naked body cuddling up to their equally nude form. They’re smiling, tenderly caressing your bare shoulders, embracing your body in such a loving manner it looked like you were lovers. When… When did they take this?

Your voice is shaking but they don’t answer you, instead opting to crouch beside you and show you the hundreds of incriminating pictures themselves.

They start telling you a story based on the pictures, the one they seemed to be telling you even if you knew that everything they depicted was fake, about a promiscuous professor that seduced their student, coaxed them into a relationship and took advantage of their position to influence the student into falling in love with them.

You want to tell them it won’t work, threaten to call the dean or the campus police, but they quickly clear out any confusion; “Would anyone believe a student would seduce a teacher and that it’s not the other way around?”

You know exactly what they mean; you’re the professor, you hold the authority. You had never been able to put a stop to it because you had no idea what they were doing but that didn’t matter, it was your word against theirs and they had “evidence”.

They seem proud of themselves too, telling you about all the ways they set up the rooms and photos to make sure they looked as real as possible. They’d taken their clothes and belongings over to your place in secret, made sure to apply makeup in the right places with the correct lighting, it seriously felt like an art they’d perfected.

You ask them what they could possibly want, clearly it couldn’t be only your tutoring if they were going this far. They smile and tell you they simply want a relationship with you, one that goes beyond a professor and a student; from that day onwards they wanted to be your lover.

You want to say no, but they remind you of the position you’re in; “You know, I’ve got these backed up in a bunch of places, it’d be a shame if one leaked, right, professor?”

You feel numb as they lock the door of your office and guide you on top of your desk, you barely even register them going down on you - stripping you naked and giving you oral. From that day onward, you were a prisoner to your own student.

Everyday, they’d act like any other person taking your classes, going to college, making friends, as if when your work day ended they didn’t torment you under the guise of love. Making themselves into your lover without your consent, as if you weren’t their professor, as if they weren’t your student. They celebrate your birthday and make you celebrate theirs, you go on dates outside of town so as to not be caught, there are times you almost forget the perverse nature of your relationship - but it always comes back to haunt you. They always come back to haunt you.

They make sure not to show any of the images to anyone for as long as they’re going to the college. They need to keep an eye on you, make sure your looks and personality don’t charm any other student - they’d hate to get rid of their classmates due to your unknowing seduction. They’re so good at acting like they weren’t bending you over your kitchen counter the minute they followed you home, you’d almost believe they were only your innocent, well meaning student if they didn’t send you videos of you two fucking as extra-curriculum activities.

They also take your courses religiously to make sure to always be in contact with you; you could never escape them, they’ll follow you home and come inside even if you try to shut the door behind you. Whenever you tried changing the lock they'd find a way to break in anyway, on campus they’d sneakily follow you everywhere and harass you. Those who notice, the few that do, think of it as cute, an innocent puppy crush that would fade by next semester.

It’s not until they gets their diploma three years later that they releases a drive full of the videos and pictures, making sure to add dates and location, everything to prove you were fucking a student. You were a whore of a professor seducing their students.

You’re fired immediately and it’s not long until your friends and family cut contact with you for seducing a poor college student and using your power over them as leverage. Nobody wants to hire you, they’d make sure to document every single dirty detail of your relationship so as to ruin your reputation until you’d be forced to turn to the only person who didn’t turn their back on you.

You can only walk into their open arms as they suggest finally moving in together, possibly getting married, and maybe even having a couple of children now that they have graduated and received their degree.

But even through it all, they still have the audacity to call you their beloved “professor”.

Characters: Lisa (GI), Scaramouche (GI), Al-Haitham (GI), Kaeya (GI), Ayato (GI), Jing Yuan (HSR), Luocha (HSR), Aventurine (HSR), Vyn (TOT), Rafayel (L&DS), Ibara (ENSTARS), Eichi (ENSTARS), Yuzuru (ENSTARS), Cater (TWST), Rook (TWST), Kylar (DOL), Whitney (DOL), literally anyone you want really (TT)

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svnoohe4rts · 1 year

Text

MY DEAR ANNOYING SEATMATE ― lee heeseung

↳ PAIRING: lee heeseung x fembodied!reader

↳ SYNOPSIS: there was only a few things you hated in life, but your dear seatmate lee heeseung was most definitely one of the few things you absolutely despised. with the two of you being paired up for an upcoming project, it seemed like life possibly couldn’t get any worse; so why did he suddenly almost look cute?

↳ GENRE: enemies to lovers (kind of but not really, reader hates heeseung for no valid reason while heeseung is just clueless)

↳ WORD COUNT: 17.1k

↳ WARNINGS: slight angst, SMUT ! MDNI . | oral (m recieving), cum eating, heeseung is extremely inexperienced while reader is experienced (let me know if there’s anything i should add !)

↳ A/N: i got too carried away writing this, making this my longest fic ever ... i blame it on nerd!hee :’) proof read but there’s probably a few mistakes i’ve missed, don’t be afraid to point them out !!! all feedback is appreciated ! <3

YOU HATED LEE HEESEUNG.

The boy assigned to the seat next to you had never necessarily done anything for you to hate him. Thinking about it, there was nothing he possibly could’ve done, considering that he usually kept to himself most of the time and had probably only uttered about two or three words to you during your time as seatmates.

But one thing was for sure, you absolutely despised him.

You hated the way he’d slide his hideous glasses up the bridge of his nose, you hated the way he’d repeatedly tap the end of his pencil against his desk, especially during math, when he’d concentrate a little too hard, but most of all, you hated how he’d interrupt the teacher whenever he felt the need to add something to whatever the teacher was talking about; usually something completely irrelevant.

If there was one thing you wished for, it was for Lee Heeseung to keep to himself during class the same way he kept to himself outside of class.

But your wishes were never fulfilled, and they most likely would never be; Heeseung being the prime example of why the fairy godmother from Cinderella didn’t actually exist like you thought when you were younger, otherwise Heeseung probably would’ve lost his ability to speak by now. What Heeseung also failed to comprehend was that whenever he embarrassed himself by raising in hand in the middle of class just to boast about his knowledge, he also embarrassed you.

When all eyes landed on him, they also landed on you. So whenever the entire class would roll their eyes at Heeseung when he once again went completely going off topic, they were technically rolling their eyes at you, too.

Like a pending doom, you wanted to sink through the ground every time he opened his mouth. You knew the second he cleared his throat and his hand went up in the air that it was your cue to press your forehead against the wooden desk, a desperate attempt to avoid the stares and sigh’s coming from your fellow classmates as Heeseung’s aggravating voice echoed through your ears.

For that very reason, you grew to hate Lee Heeseung more and more with each day that passed.

Over time, the annoyance of him always having something to say grew into you finding everything he did annoying. What started off as you two being innocently placed as seatmates, developed into you dreading going to class because of him.

Today, however, you swore you hated Heeseung more than ever.

If the universe had been on your side, Heeseung never would’ve ended up in the seat next to you for an entire year. You wouldn’t have to listen to his pencil hitting the table over and over again every single day, you wouldn’t have to listen to his annoying voice, no, this wasn’t the life you were supposed to live. You weren’t supposed to be seated next to the most annoying human being the world had ever seen, life had so much to offer you, you had so many things left to do before your life came to an end; yet the universe seemed to want you dead sooner than you had expected by making Lee Heeseung your assigned seatmate.

Your cause of death wouldn’t be of old age like you had hoped, nor would some cold-hearted illness take your life away, no, Lee Heeseung would be your cause of death; you were sure of it.

And just when you thought the universe might’ve toyed enough with you, the words trailing off your teacher's lips proved you wrong. ‘’Y/N, I think you and Heeseung would make a great pair for this project,’’

You had stopped listening to what the older woman was telling you the second your name accompanied by your dear seatmates name trailed off her lips. Almost like your whole world came crumbling down around you, you shut your eyes; nibbling on your bottom lip as you looked back on your entire life - trying to figure out what you possibly had done to deserve this type of punishment.

Maybe this was the universe’s way of getting back at you for forgetting to hand in that one group project on time, causing the whole group to get in trouble; or maybe it was the universe getting back at you for not helping that one crying kid that one time while running to the bus after school, but what were you supposed to do? Stay with the clearly upset kid and miss your only bus?

No, you obviously did what anyone else would’ve done in that situation and got on the bus.

Well, maybe it wasn’t the only bus and you probably would’ve made it on that bus even if you checked on the crying kid; but was this type of punishment really necessary? Wasn’t placing Lee Heeseung in the seat next to you enough? You already suffered thanks to the boy seated next to you every day, you had already begged the universe for forgiveness for that one time - so why were you being paired up with Heeseung for one of the most important projects of the year?

‘’Heeseung clearly shows great knowledge surrounding this subject, and your essay about it last year was astonishing Y/N,’’ The older woman's voice brought you out of your daze, hoping that the universe would’ve heard the prayers that ran through your mind by the time you opened your eyes; but with Heeseung still sitting across from you, his big eyes piercing into your soul, you realized that the universe wasn’t going to forgive you anytime soon.

You should’ve known what was about to come when your teacher told both you and Heeseung to stay behind after class, asking both of you to sit down in front of her desk. At first, you thought she was going to scold you for sending death glares Heeseung’s way every time he opened his mouth, or even better - maybe she was going to scold Heeseung, you never would’ve sent him death glares if he never opened his mouth in the first place after all.

You were mentally preparing yourself to blame everything on Heeseung the second your teacher sat down in her chair, your fingers nervously playing with the strap of your bag as your teacher cleared her throat. I’m sorry for my behavior, teacher, but he’s making it hard for me to focus when he’s constantly talking and I’m sure everyone else feels the same way hence why I feel like it’s my responsibility as his seatmate to make sure he’s not disturbing any-

‘’I’m sure you’re both aware of the upcoming project.’’

Oh.

She wasn’t going to scold you, no, this was about something completely different. Something so much more terrifying.

With your teacher still explaining to you why you and Heeseung would make such an incredible pair for this particular project, you inhaled through your nose before clearing your throat, your gaze shifting over to the older woman sitting in front of you; flashing her a forced smile.

‘’I’m sorry, miss, but is working in pairs really necessary? I mean, just like you said, Heeseung clearly shows great knowledge about this particular subject,’’ You began speaking, almost gagging as you unwillingly complimented Heeseung. ‘’And I don’t mean to flatter myself, but I have some decent knowledge about it as well, so I don’t really see why it would be necessary for us to work together.’’

You stared at your teacher in anticipation as you finished speaking, holding your breath as you waited for her to speak.

It was true, you truly didn’t understand why you would have to work with him. You knew you’d be able to do this project on your own and you knew Heeseung was perfectly capable of doing it on his own as well, so you two working together just didn’t make any sense to you.

‘’I understand where you’re coming from and I’m not doubting your knowledge, Y/N,’’ Your teacher let out, offering you a small smile in return. ‘’But I truly believe both of you could benefit from working together.’’

It felt like someone had punched you in the stomach as soon as the words left her lips. You, benifiting from working with Heeseung? No, there was no such thing. Your forced smile slowly faded away, leaning back in your chair as a frown replaced the smile that had previously sat on your lips.

‘’It sounds like a great idea to me.’’

Heeseung's irksome voice caused you to look over at him once again, having to hold back a curse from leaving your throat in annoyance as your eyes landed on the lanky boy. With his eyes glued to the teacher sitting next to him, a big smile formed on his lips; like he found the situation delightful - when in reality, there was nothing delightful about the situation, not even a little bit.

Your teacher offered Heeseung a warm smile, nodding her head. ‘’Then it’s decided, you’ll do it together.’’

You just hoped that the unpleasant expression plastered on your face didn’t go unnoticed by Heeseung.

”I’ll do the whole project.”

You had followed Heeseung out of the classroom after saying bye to your teacher, the smile you had worn in an attempt to conceal how unsatisfied you were with her decision fading away as soon as you turned around to walk after the lanky boy; a sigh of annoyance leaving your lips as you sped up to catch up with your seatmate.

Your words clearly took Heeseung by surprise, his eyes wide and his eyebrows slightly furrowed together as he turned around to look at you. You just stared at him, leaning your upper body against the lockers beside you; the shocked expression on his face remaining.

“What?” His words came out shaky, not expecting you to follow him and he did most definitely not expect you to place your body against his locker, preventing him from accessing his own locker. You sighed, “Are you deaf? I said I’ll do the project, don’t worry, I’ll hand it in on time.”

Heeseung just continued to stare at you, his lips now slightly parted. “On your own? No, absolutely not! Did you not listen to a single word that the teacher told us? It’s a group project,” He let out, shaking his head as he spoke. Yet another sigh left your lips, this one much more dramatic, followed by you rolling your eyes.

Not even two minutes into your first ever official conversation with the boy and he was already annoying you.

“I’m not stupid, okay? I can handle it, just leave it to me.” You defended yourself, emphasizing the ‘stupid’.

“I never said you were,” He looked down at the books you were holding in your hands, “But judging by the way you brought your biology book to history class, I think you might need some he-“

Heeseung stopped himself from speaking as his eyes landed on your stern, clearly unamused face.

Maybe he said a little too much.

You just stared at him as he pressed his lips into a thin line, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck as his eyes darted away from your figure in an attempt to ease the sudden tense atmosphere. “If you’re done being an asshole, I need to go get started on this project since I’m so stupid.” You had already turned around, already a few feet away from the boy when you heard him sigh from behind you.

“No, Y/N, wait!” Your eyes went wide for a second when you felt his cold hand come into contact with your wrist, your steps coming to a halt as his firm grip prevented you from taking another step. You quickly turned around, coming face to face with Heeseung, who was still holding onto your wrist, once again.

If looks could kill, Heeseung was sure he’d be dead by now.

With your eyes narrowed as you stared at him, a sigh left his lips as he ran his hand through his hair; the grip he had on your wrist slowly loosening before ultimately letting your wrist go completely - your arm falling down your side.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, it’s just, it’s a group project,” He let out, his hand resting at the nape of his neck. You just stared at him for a moment, not believing the audacity of the boy standing before you.

”Well, I don’t think we can work together. Go ask the teacher to assign you a new partner or something.” You let out after a moment of silence, a moment of Heeseung staring at you in anticipation; nervously waiting for you to respond. You were about to turn around once more, feeling done with the conversation; hoping that he’d actually listen to you and talk to the teacher about switching partners when a groan suddenly emerged from the taller boy's throat.

”No,” He shook his head, “I want to work with you Y/N.”

A dry chuckle trailed off your lips as you shook your head in response. “It didn’t sound like it a minute ago when you called me stupid.”

Another groan left Heeseung’s throat, the sarcastic tone lingering behind your words almost causing him to roll his eyes. Judging by the way you were already clearly annoyed with him, he decided it would be for the best if he didn’t; if he wanted to live another day, that being said.

“I said I’m sorry!” He exclaimed in defense, throwing his hands up in the air. You almost scrunched your nose in disgust at the scene in front of you, only finding him more and more annoying the more he spoke. “Whatever, are we done here or is there another insult you’ve been wanting to tell me?” You muttered, your eyes still narrowed as you stared at the dark-haired boy.

Heeseung just stared back at you for a moment. He wondered if you had just woken up on the wrong side of the bed this morning or if his words actually pissed you off that much, fighting the urge to ask you which of the two options had you in such a foul mood.

‘’Look Y/N,’’ He began speaking, pushing his glasses further up his nose using his pointer finger, “I insist. I’m sorry we got off to a bad start, but I can’t let you do this whole project on your own.”

Got off to a bad start? You almost let out a chuckle as the words left his lips, was he really that oblivious? ‘’Plus, think about it, I think we both could benefit from working together, no?’’

You pressed your lips into a thin line, your gaze darting over to look at something other than him while thinking about what he had just said.

There was absolutely nothing in it for you, besides possibly growing to hate Lee Heeseung even more than you already did. There was nothing Heeseung could possibly help you with, you knew you would be able to do the project, if not even better, on your own; history was one of the few subjects you were really good in, after all.

‘’How?’’ You asked after a while, your eyes darting back to the boy standing in front of you once again. He raised one of his eyebrows, tilting his head as he gave you a questioning look. ‘’How what, exactly?’’ He questioned, repeating your words. You let out a sigh, inhaling air through your nose in an attempt to stay calm. ‘’Yeah, like how would we possibly benefit anything from working together?’’

His lips formed into an ‘o’ shape as he realized what you meant, causing you to frown as you watched his facial expression go from a puzzled to an understanding one.

He might’ve looked smart and his grades definitely proved that he was, but when it came to interacting with another human being; God, was he awful.

A hum left Heeseungs lips as he thought about your question - now that he understood what you meant by your simple ‘how’.

‘’It’s the most important project of the year, almost our whole grade literally depends on this project,’’ He began speaking, almost like he was educating you; earning yet another stare from you, patiently waiting for him to continue his sentence.

Heeseung just stared back at you for a moment, wondering if you understood the importance of this project. Your blank stare made it hard for him to tell if you understood or not, but considering how your teacher had brought up the importance of this project multiple times during the year he just assumed you knew; clearing his throat before you could accuse him of calling you stupid, again.

‘’So I just think that if we put both our knowledge together, we’d do a better job compared to how we’d do if we did it separately,’’ He continued, ‘’She wouldn’t put us in the same group if she didn’t think it was for the best, right?’’

You kept your eyes on him as the last words trailed off his lips, a low chuckle escaping your lips as you scanned his facial expression; his bottom lip placed in between his teeth by the time he finished speaking.

Still believing this was the universe’s way of punishing you for all your sins, you refused to believe that your teacher paired you and Heeseung up for the sake of your grade. If anything, your seatmate was going to be the downfall of your grades; considering how you wouldn’t last a minute working with him. ‘’If you needed my help that bad you should’ve just said so.’’

Your words almost caused Heeseung’s jaw to hit the floor, his eyes widening in disbelief. Did you just disrespect his knowledge, the knowledge he so proudly bragged about every time he received yet another perfect grade?

‘’What? I don’t need your help!’’ He let out, stumbling over his own words as he tried to defend himself and most importantly - his pride.

A small smile formed on your lips as you watched the flustered boy in front of you. Of course Heeseung, the top student, didn’t need your help to get this project done; you knew that. But you couldn’t help but let the words leave your lips as you watched how nervously he chewed on his bottom lip, looking like he was getting ready to start begging you to work with him.

You also eventually figured out the reason behind his stubbornness. He didn’t necessarily want to work with you, but he wanted the grade that would come with him working with you. He knew that by working with you and doing the project together, you’d put the things he already knew into a new perspective and it would definitely get him a higher grade; especially since your teacher was the one who wanted you two to work together in the first place.

‘’I could totally do this whole project on my own! But it’s a group project and it’s not fair if only one of us does the whole project, not that I wouldn’t be able to do it on my own, but I just t-’’

‘’What’s in it for me?’’ His lips remained parted for a second, not a single word leaving his lips as you abruptly interrupted his rambling. He then pressed his lips back into a thin line, confusion once again taking over the flustered expression he had just worn on his face. You just stared at him, shaking your head as he remained quiet. ‘’You clearly want me to work with you so you can get a better grade,’’ You continued.

Heeseung’s lip once again parted, bringing both his hands up in the air; about to defend himself - about to deny the obvious. He, however, never got the chance to utter as much as a single noise as your voice once again filled his ears. ‘’But what’s in it for me?’’

He just started at you, making you wonder if that’s what he always did whenever he spoke to someone considering he had only taken his eyes off you for a split second during your conversation; his doe eyes staring right at you starting to make you feel slightly uncomfortable. ‘’Well,’’ He hummed, realizing there was no point in denying the truth, ‘’A better grade, I suppose?’’

You clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth, shaking your head. ‘’That won’t do.’’ You replied, causing Heeseung to frown. ‘’What do you mean?’’ He asked, his head now slightly tilted. ‘’I know that I could achieve the very same grade, if not better, by working on my own. So working with you is technically only a hassle for me,’’ Your words caused Heeseung to mutter out a low ‘ouch’ under his breath as you continued speaking.

‘’So, what’s in it for me if we do work together?’’ The frown remained plastered on Heeseung’s face as you finished speaking, now slightly tilting your head as you waited for him to speak.

Heeseung, however, remained silent. He kept his eyes on you as he tried to think of something, anything, that you could get out of working with him; besides a better grade, that being said. With his bottom lip once again placed in between his teeth, a low groan escaped his throat as he realized there was absolutely nothing in it for you besides a better grade. Tearing his eyes off of you, a sigh escaped his lips as he shut his eyes.

He couldn’t believe he had to bargain with you in order for you to do the project with him.

‘’I’ll do anything you want.’’ Your lips parted in surprise, your eyes slightly widening as the sudden words left his mouth.

Any normal person would just simply ask their teacher to switch partners if the other person showed clear dissatisfaction with the thought of being paired up together. Heeseung, however? No, not when his whole grade was on the line.

You knew Heeseung would do anything for a good grade, even though he didn’t even have to try most of the time. But considering the fact that this project was important and as he had previously told you, your whole grade depended on this project; you knew the opportunity of you two working together was his best bet on getting the highest grade possible. Even though you were aware of how important he found his grades, you couldn’t help but wonder - was he really that desperate?

‘’Anything?’’

‘’Absolutely anything.’’

Heeseung regretted his decision the second the words left his lips and his eyes fluttered open, once again landing on your face. The smug grin you wore on your lips made him want to sink through the ground; realizing what he had just agreed to. ‘’Like, absolutely anything?’’ You repeated, your smile only growing bigger as you realized you could practically make the poor boy do anything judging by how desperate he looked with his big doe eyes staring into your own.

‘’Yes! Like, absolutely anything!’’ He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as he placed the other hand on his hip; something that almost made you cringe, and it probably would’ve - if you weren’t too caught up in the fact that your annoying seatmate, Lee Heeseung, just told you he’d do anything in order for you to work on the group project with him.

‘’Deal.’’ You let out, extending your right hand for him to shake. Heeseung just stared at your hand for a moment, the hand that had been pinching the bridge of his nose falling down his side as his gaze met yours once again. ‘’What? You haven’t even told me what I’m supposed to do yet, how can we make a deal if I don’t even k-’’

Heeseung fell silent the second he felt you grab his hand, rolling your eyes as you shook his hand; his lips parting in utter surprise at your unexpected action, the feeling of your smaller hand wrapping around his own causing his heart to skip a beat - from the shock of you so carelessly grabbing his hand, of course, nothing else.

‘’Let’s get this over with as soon as possible, yeah? Let’s meet up tomorrow and figure out what we should write about,’’ You spoke, interrupting the now clearly appalled boy standing in front of you as you continued shaking his hand. ‘’But,’’ Heeseung managed to stutter out, eyes wide as he watched you shake his hand. ‘’Great! I’ll meet you in the library tomorrow after class,’’

By the time Heeseung had managed to tear his gaze off your hands, you had already let his hand go and were now making your way down the hallway with your back turned towards him. Heeseung, however, kept his hand extended as his lips parted; watching you make your way down the hallway, feeling dumbfounded by what had just happened.

What did he just agree to?

The clock that decorated Heeseungs wrist hit 2:30 PM, and you were still nowhere to be seen.

Your class ended at 2 PM sharp the following day, and by 2:03 PM Heeseung found himself sitting in the library; his eyes scanning the room from the table he was sitting at as he waited for you to arrive.

Heeseung was an understanding man. He considered himself to be a very compassionate and generous person, which is why he understood why you weren’t in the library by the time he arrived. He had seen you talking to your friends right before class ended after all, or maybe the hallways were packed and stopped you from getting to the library as soon as possible, or maybe the teacher wanted to share a word with you. Whatever it was that was making you late, Heeseung understood and it wasn’t like he actually expected you to be there the second you got out of class; unlike himself.

Well, maybe a part of him did expect you to be there when he walked in. Another thing you had yet to find out about Heeseung was that while he was definitely an understanding person, he was also a time pessimist.

And with you now being almost thirty minutes late to your scheduled meeting, the meeting that you had scheduled, Heeseung began to grow anxious as his eyes landed on the watch he wore around his wrist for the nth time that day. Heeseung valued his time, especially his study time, and you being this late caused the boy to almost grow aggravated as his foot repeatedly tapped against the floor; his eyes now glued to the clock as he counted each second that passed.

Heeseung tried being an understanding person, and he was willing to wait until the clock hit the thirty-minute mark for you to show up. But with the clock now being exactly 5 seconds away from hitting 2:31 PM, he could no longer force himself to be the bigger person; a low sigh escaping his lips as he watched the clock tick. You had wasted his precious time, and he was not willing to waste any more of it by waiting for you to show up.

‘’Why did you have to pick this table? I had to walk around the entire library looking for you,’’

Your sudden voice followed by your bag landing on top of the table in front of him almost caused Heeseung to jump out of his seat, missing as his watch hit 2:31 PM when his eyes landed on you instead. Heeseung kept his eyes glued on you, his lips parting in surprise as a sigh left your lips, watching you sit down in the chair in front of him.

The boy, however, never replied to your question. Raising one of your brows, your gaze landed on the lanky boy; immediately spotting the sour look on his face. You didn’t know whether or not to laugh at the displeased look plastered on his face, his lips pressed into a thin line as stared right back at you; or if you should be concerned, considering that you had never seen him look so disappointed before.

‘’What’s with the long face? Have you suddenly gone mute or why aren’t you saying anything?’’

Maybe your wishes of Heeseung losing his ability to speak somehow finally got fulfilled.

‘’You’re late.’’

Or maybe not. A groan left your lips before you ran your hand through your hair, rolling your eyes at the boy sitting with his arms crossed in front of you before leaning back in your chair; mimicking his actions by crossing your own arms over your chest.

‘’By like, 30 minutes,’’

‘’Exactly! 30 whole minutes, that’s a lot of time! I could’ve finished my biology homework by now if you showed up on time!’’ With his arms now waving in the air as he tried explaining to you why thirty minutes was a lot of time, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the boy once again. ‘’I just had to stop by the cafeteria to buy myself something to drink, I’m sorry! It’s not my fault that the line was so long!’’

Now it was Heeseungs turn to roll his eyes, ‘’Why didn’t you just skip getting a drink when seeing that the line would take a while? You knew you’d be late!’’

His argument earned him yet another eye roll from you, ‘’Would you rather me be 30 minutes late to our study date or die of dehydration?’’

‘’You wouldn’t even die of dehydration, unless you haven’t had a drink in about a week which I strongly doubt you haven’t because if you hadn’t you wouldn’t even be functioning right n-’’

A loud groan coming from you interrupted Heeseung’s lecture, his lips still parted with his hands still in the air as he stared at you. ‘’God, Heeseung! You’re so annoying, you know that, right?’’ You spat at him, shaking your head as you spoke. Heeseung just stared at you, letting out a huff before leaning back in his chair; crossing his arms over his chest once again before looking over at the bookshelf placed behind you. ‘’Says the girl who wasted 30 minutes of my precious time.’’

You stared at the boy seated in front of you in disbelief. Just when you didn’t think your dear seatmate could get any more annoying, he proved you wrong by showing you the most disturbing sulking face you had ever seen, his stern face accompanied by a small pout on his plump lips almost making you shudder in repulsion; like your whole body was rejecting just the sight of Lee Heeseung sulking.

‘’You’re only wasting more of your so-called precious time by sulking.’’ You muttered after taking in the sight in front of you, the shock of seeing Heeseung sulking leaving you dumbfounded for a moment; tearing your eyes off the boy in front of you to open up your backpack to retrieve your laptop.

Heeseung’s gaze landed on you, watching as you opened up your laptop; not a single word leaving his lips, a frown taking over his face as he realized he had actually been sulking. Oh god, he had actually sulked in front of you.

The two of you remained quiet after Heeseung cleared his throat in an attempt to somewhat ease the atmosphere, his cheeks heating up in embarrassment, hiding his face by fiddling with the backpack he had placed next to his chair; praying that his hair actually covered the crimson color that had begun to spread across his cheeks.

‘’So,’’ You were the first one to speak, tearing your eyes away from your laptop; your eyes landing on the boy in front of you once more. As your eyes met his, Heeseung just hoped that his flushed cheeks had gone back to normal, not wanting to embarrass himself even further by letting you see him flustered. ‘’Any ideas of what we could write about?’’

Heeseung parted his lips, a feeling of relief washing over him as you just stared at him; not saying anything about his flushed cheeks. Maybe it wasn’t as noticeable as he thought. ‘’Oh,’’ He let out after a few seconds of just blankly staring at you, only speaking when you raised one of your eyebrows as you waited for him to respond. ‘’I was thinking we could write about the economic impact of the Titanic sinking?’’

Oh my god.

Was he actually serious right now?

You just stared at him, scanning his face as you tried to figure out if he was actually serious or not. But by the way his big, deer-like eyes were only staring innocently right back at you, you realized he was in fact serious. Oh god, he was actually serious. ‘’Don’t tell me you’re being serious?’’

Heeseung raised both his eyebrows at your question, his big eyes glistering under the extremely bad lighting of the library. ‘’What? Why wouldn’t I be? It’s a very interesting topic! You know, it impacted the economy pretty badly,’’ He began explaining, your eyes fluttering shut as soon as the words left his mouth; pressing your lips into a thin line before taking a deep breath through your nose. If you didn’t stop him right there and then, he would probably go on an hour-long rant about why and how the Titanic sinking impacted the economy.

‘’Heeseung.’’

‘’Almost all of the survivors and the families of the people who lost their lives sued the company, I can’t remember the exact number but we’re talking about millions and millions of dollars,’’

‘’Heeseung,’’

‘’I should know the exact amount of money though, what was it? Wait, let me look it up,’’

‘’Heeseung, I swear to God, if you say as much as another word about the Titanic I will personally sue you for emotional damage.’’ Heeseung had already begun typing on the keyboard of his laptop as the words left your mouth, his fingers stopped typing as he looked away from the screen of his laptop and up at you; his eyes widening.

This was the second time Heeseung felt like if looks could kill, he’d be buried 6 feet under the ground right now. It had only been approximately 24 hours since the two of you shared your first proper conversation despite being seatmates for months, yet he felt like you had wanted to kill him twice during those 24 hours.

Heeseung just gulped in response, his eyes darting back to the screen of his computer; anything to avoid the death glare you were sending him, moving the cursor to close the google tab he had opened up. He’d have to google that when he got home.

‘’How about something simple instead? Like the great depression or something?’’

‘’Isn’t that too easy?’’

You just stared at the boy in front of you, causing him to throw both hands up into the air. ‘’Alright, the great depression it is!’’ He let out, keeping his hands in the air; scared that if he complained one more time you’d actually kill him. ‘’Thank you for finally cooperating, I almost thought you weren't capable of cooperating for a while.’’ You muttered, your eyes landing on the screen of your laptop once more as your fingers ghosted over the keyboard, creating a new document for you and your annoying seatmate.

Heeseung was about to say something in protest, something about how you were the one who had arrived late and picking the most basic topics, when he realized it was probably for the best for him to keep quiet; unless he wanted you to lash out on him again.

What had he possibly done for you to be so annoyed with him?

‘’Great, now we have a topic,’’ You mumbled under your breath, Heeseung watching as your brows slightly furrowed together as you focused on something on your laptop. ‘’And for time and place?’’ Your eyes met his once again, his head slightly tilted to the side; something you had noticed he did quite a lot whenever he got confused.

He remained silent, causing you to hold back a sigh. ‘’So we can work on the project, what time and what days should we meet up?’’ You clarified, not that your original question needed clarifying; but considering how the boy seated in front of you had no idea how to have a basic conversation, you realized you would have to clarify a lot of things the next couple of weeks.

‘’Right,’’ Heeseung let out as he realized what you meant, ‘’I’m free after school on Mondays and Thursdays, if that works for you?’’

Free from doing what exactly? Researching the economic impact the Titanic had from sinking?

‘’That works for me,’’ You nodded, ‘’Let’s meet by your locker, and then head to the library to study, yeah? That way you don’t have to look like an idiot while waiting for me if I end up running late again.’’

Heeseung almost let out a whine at the mention of you running late again. He had hoped that you had learned your lesson by making him sulk in front of you, but your words proved him wrong; the thought of you making him waste another thirty minutes of his life waiting for you almost caused a groan to leave his throat in frustration. But he didn’t, only muttering out a low ‘right’, not wanting to annoy you even further.

You nodded your head, before shutting your computer; the sound of your laptop shutting close causing Heeseungs gaze to land on you again, confusion washing over him as he watched you out your laptop back into your backpack. ‘’Wait,’’ He let out, ‘’What are you doing? Aren’t we going to study?’’

You let out a chuckle as you closed your backpack, swinging it over your shoulder before standing up. ‘’It’s almost 3 o’clock, I have to get home,’’ You responded, putting the chair you had just been sitting in closer to the table. Heeseung watched your every movement, his lips parted as he watched you get ready to leave. ‘’But we haven’t even gotten anything done!’’

You just shrugged, ‘’I’m sorry, but I only had an hour to spare.’’

Heeseung just stared at you in disbelief. ‘’But you’ve only been here for, what, fifteen minutes?’’ He stuttered, the chuckle emerging from your throat taking him by surprise. ‘’Sorry, the amount of time it took for me to get a drink is also calculated into that time,’’

Frowning, Heeseung wanted to press his forehead against the table in front of him. It wasn’t his fault that you ended up being late, so why were you punishing him for it by not even studying like you had originally planned to do? The least you could do was at least stay for a while longer, just to make sure you got at least something done, not just deciding the topic. But it seemed like you weren’t going to do that, leaving Heeseung in despair.

‘’But I promise I’ll be on time next time! I’ll see you Thursday!’’

And just like that, you left Heeseung sitting in the same chair he had been sitting in for almost an hour now; waving as you walked further away. Heeseung just stared at you, watching as you spun around; a frown still plastered on his face. His forehead hit the table the second you walked out of the library, his eyes tightly shut as he let out a low groan, hoping that the rest of the people in the library didn’t hear him groaning in annoyance.

Not only had you wasted his valued time, but he also never got the chance to ask you about what you wanted him to do for you to work with him.

To Heeseung’s surprise, you actually kept your promise.

When Thursday rolled around and your last class of the day was coming to its end, Heeseung was fully prepared for you to just leave him hanging again. This time, however, he had promised himself that he’d only wait for you for a maximum of fifteen minutes, no more; especially not thirty minutes like last time. He wasn’t going to let you waste his time like that again, not when he had more important things to do rather than standing around, waiting for his seatmate.

So when you actually showed up at his locker only two minutes after he got there, he was taken aback. He had prepared himself for you being late, he even come up with the bright idea of cleaning his locker while waiting for you, which was much needed considering the amount of paper taking up all the space in his already small locker; making it hard for him to fit his books in there the more papers he gathered, only to dump them in his locker.

But it seemed like cleaning his locker would have to wait as you actually showed up on time, holding your laptop in one of your hands and a history book in the other; ready to start working.

Not only had you surprised Heeseung, but Heeseung had surprised you as well. You had mentally prepared yourself for an hour consisting of listening to Heeseung ramble about things that were completely irrelevant, things that would make you want to rip your hair out in annoyance; things that would make it incredibly hard for you to get anything done.

But you didn’t even have to set any rules, you didn’t tell him to be quiet and only talk to you if he had something to ask or say about the project, that him talking would only prevent you from getting any work done which you knew would annoy him as well; because twenty minutes into your study session, he had yet to utter a single word.

No, he kept his eyes glued to the screen the second he opened his laptop; his brows slightly furrowed together as the screen of his laptop reflected in his glasses. Like the computer had sucked him into a completely different world, his lips remained sealed as you discreetly watched him read something in the reflection of his glasses. Not that he would have noticed that you were staring at him, whatever he was reading had clearly captivated him.

No rambling, no unnecessary remarks, no nothing; he was just simply quiet. Almost too quiet.

And you started to believe that maybe, just maybe, the universe had finally heard your prayers and decided to forgive you for your sins; showing you its gratitude by letting you have one day where you wouldn’t have to lose your mind over Lee Heeseung talking.

He wasn’t so bad when he kept his mouth shut.

You would think that the quietness would make it easier for you to focus on the project, but twenty minutes in and the document still remained blank; besides a few names and random dates that Heeseung had written down at the bottom of the page for him to remember for later, watching as he switched in between tabs, the sound of him typing on his keyboard filling the room before he went back to reading once again.

There was something else clouding your mind, making it hard for you to focus on the project as the only thing you could seem to think about was what you were supposed to tell Heeseung to do for you working with him.

You found yourself lost in your own thoughts as you thought about it. You had been delighted when Heeseung first proposed the idea of him doing anything you want in order for you to work with him, ideas running through your mind; maybe this was your chance to get him to stop both embarrassing you and getting on your nerves during class. Maybe this was your chance of turning Lee Heeseung into an actual endurable seatmate.

You could forbid him from talking in class ever again, you thought, or maybe you could force him to do something so bizarre the teacher would have to change the seats around. Or maybe he didn’t have to do anything bizarre, maybe he could just ask the teacher to change the seats around; but what would be the fun in that, especially after the hell he’s unknowingly put you through day in and day out?

But the more you thought about it, the more idiotic did your options seem. You knew you couldn’t forbid him from talking in class, you knew he had to speak in class; you might be praying for Lee Heeseungs downfall, but you knew better than to play with his grades like that. The teacher had also made it very clear that she wouldn’t be changing the seats anytime soon and that we would just have to live with it after multiple groans and complaints had left the student's lips after her decision was announced.

So with your options being ripped apart one by one, you were left with nothing. Which meant you had no idea what to tell Heeseung.

You weren’t sure for how long you had been in your thoughts, but the sound of Heeseung suddenly humming snapped you out of your daze; blinking as you realized you had been zoning out for a little too long.

At first, you thought he was humming to get your attention; maybe he noticed that you still hadn’t written anything as the page was still blank and was going to ask you about it, or possibly make some smart remark about how he already knew everything the page he was on was telling him - something typical coming from Heeseung.

But he wasn’t trying to get your attention, no, he was humming a song.

You slightly furrowed your brows as you realized he was in fact humming the tune of a song, your eyes now fully fixed on him. His eyes remained glued to the screen of his laptop, the reflection in his glasses letting you know that he was still reading. You parted your lips like you were getting ready to say something, but remained silent as you continued to listen to him quietly humming.

‘’What song are you humming?’’ You spoke, the first time you spoke since you first sat down; the first time any of you spoke, as a matter of fact. Heeseung quickly looked up at you, his eyes big as his lips parted; his humming coming to an abrupt end. ‘’What?’’ He let out, causing a small chuckle to trail off your lips. ‘’The song you were humming just now, what song was it?’’

Heeseung just stared at you, his lips still parted. ‘’Oh,’’ He mumbled, a small smile spreading across his lips and you think it’s the first time you’ve ever actually seen him smile. You couldn’t help but let your eyes dart down to his pink lips, his teeth slightly showing as the corner of his lips curled into a small smile; one of his hands awkwardly rubbing the nape of his neck.

His smile almost caused you to frown, because why was his smile so pretty?

You never thought that Lee Heeseung would have a pretty smile, but with his pearly white teeth showing you couldn’t help but think just that - that Lee Heeseung did in fact have a pretty smile. ‘’I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry if I disturbed you,’’ He stuttered, looking down at his lap in another attempt to hide the crimson color spreading across his cheeks. This time, however, you noticed his flushed cheeks.

‘’No,’’ You let out, almost too quickly, ‘’You didn’t. It sounded like a good song, I mean, you sounded good.’’

Oh, God.

There was no way you actually just complimented him.

Your sudden compliment caused Heeseung to look back up at you, the shy smile he had flashed you slowly fading away and you suddenly felt like hiding your face in the palms of your hands. You weren’t sure if you somehow offended him, judging by the way his smile had now faded away completely; not that a compliment like that usually offended anyone, but you had established the fact that Heeseung didn’t work like other people a long time ago.

‘’Thank you,’’ He managed to get out after a moment of suspenseful silence, his cheeks now feeling hotter than ever as he tried biting back another smile from spreading across his lips. ‘’I can show you the song later, if you want me to of course!’’ He stammered.

You nodded in response, flashing him a small smile before returning your gaze to the screen of your computer in an attempt to ease the now stiff atmosphere; feeling awkward from the situation that had just played out. No, awkward wasn’t even the right word to describe how you felt, you felt like you wanted to sink through the ground.

Why would you ever compliment him like that?

Heeseung, however, kept his eyes on you; biting down on his bottom lip as he watched you uncomfortably shifting around in your seat while clearing your throat. Had he made you feel awkward? Was he not supposed to tell you the song? Should he just go back to reading the article he was reading? Questions flooded his mind as he desperately tried figuring out a way to ease the awkwardness that had suddenly arisen, almost slightly panicking as the thought of him making you uncomfortable crossed his mind.

‘’Oh, wait,’’

Against your own will, your eyes darted back to the boy sitting in front of you, raising one of your eyebrows as you watched him bend over; the sound of him unzipping his bag causing you to feel slightly puzzled. ‘’I forgot,’’ He mumbled as he sat back upright, your eyes darting down to his hands; watching as he placed a drink on top of the table. ‘’I brought this for you this morning, so you wouldn’t have to die out of dehydration this time.’’

Your gaze softened as he mumbled out his words, almost making it impossible for you to hear what he was saying; but you did, and a part of you wished you hadn’t - because now it was your cheeks burning.

You kept your eyes on the drink placed in front of the boy, his hand still loosely wrapped around the can; his eyes now focused on you, his bottom lip placed in between his teeth once more as he waited for you to respond. But your response never came, and Heeseung couldn’t tell if you were staring at the drink because you didn’t like it or because you found his gesture weird.

‘’I’m sorry if you don’t like it, I wasn’t sure which one to get,’’ He stuttered, letting go of the drink as he spoke, ‘’I-if you don’t want it that’s completely fine, I can just drink, I’m sorry if it was weird of me t-’’

‘’Thank you, Heeseung.’’

Your soft words caused Heeseungs body to freeze in place. He was expecting you to snap at him, or groan, or maybe even roll your eyes, his already big eyes slightly widening in shock as your eyes met his. He stared into your eyes for a moment, searching for any type of sarcasm or maybe even annoyance; but he couldn’t find any, no, the soft look in your eyes telling him that you were actually being genuine. ‘’I really like that drink.’’

Heeseung felt his cheeks heat up once again, a small smile forming on his plump lips as his fingers wrapped around the drink again; sliding the drink over the wooden table. ‘’Good.’’ He managed to get out, speaking so quietly that he was sure you hadn’t even heard him. He watched as you wrapped your own fingers around the drink, a small smile forming on your own lips.

He had made you smile.

He was quick to return his gaze to the screen of his computer, his heart feeling like it was about to burst out of his chest if he looked at you for as much as another second.

With your fingers ghosting over the keyboard of your laptop, you realized that you most definitely weren’t going to get anything done today; not while Heeseung was sitting across the table.

Heeseung made sure to buy one can of that drink every time the two of you were supposed to meet up by his locker after that.

The first couple of times he had pulled the canned drink out of his bag, you had insisted that he shouldn’t, that he didn’t have to buy you a can every Monday and Thursday, and that you could just buy one yourself; but Heeseung refused.

He wanted to, because then he got to see your smile.

You had also became less hostile towards him. You hadn’t calling him annoying or rolled your eyes at him for almost two weeks now, a new record according to Heeseung, considering how often you did those two things the first couple of times you met with him. He had also made you laugh at one point, and Heeseung swore he had never blushed so hard in his entire life.

So he was going to keep on buying you that one canned drink, because you were friends now, and that’s what friends do for each other; right?

A sigh escaped your lips as you leaned against the lockers next to you, letting your upper body rest against the hard metal as you mindlessly scrolled through your phone. Heeseung had never in his entire life been late for anything, not even once; especially not your study sessions. He was always the first one to be there, you would always spot his tall, lanky figure standing by his locker whenever you turned the corner to go met him.

This time, however, Heeseung hadn’t been standing there as you turned the corner.

You just assumed he was using the restrooms when you first arrived, knowing that he would never be late; looking back to the first time you went to meet him in the library, remembering his sulking face after he told you you had wasted his precious time - a chuckle threatening to leave your lips at the memory. You were running a few minutes late to your now weekly meet-up anyways, so you just figured that he went to do something else while he waited for you, like using the restroom for example.

But when you had been standing there for ten minutes and Heeseung was still nowhere to be seen, you realized that wasn’t the case.

You had looked around, wondering if maybe he was just lurking somewhere nearby. You checked the end of the hallway, the empty classrooms thinking maybe he got held up after class, peaking into the boy's restroom - only to find it empty. With Heeseung still nowhere to be seen, you returned to his locker with a frown plastered on your face; deciding that you’d just stay by the lockers to see if he showed up.

Now, thirty minutes later, Heeseung was still nowhere to be seen. You had already scrolled through your entire Instagram feed, checked all your friend's stories and Heeseung still hadn’t shown up. A part of you began to grow worried, because since when was Heeseung ever late? He was never late, and the thought of something happening to him caused a weird feeling to spread across your chest.

The weird feeling caused you to stop scrolling on your phone, your thumb now lingering above the screen of your phone as you frowned.

You couldn’t exactly pinpoint the exact moment you began tolerating, not to mention caring about the boy you swore you hated so much. Maybe it was that one day in the library when you had heard him humming, his warm voice almost causing goosebumps to form on the skin of your arms - or maybe it was when he had bought you a drink, you weren’t sure.

But you did know for a fact that you weren’t particularly fond of the sudden, new feelings you felt towards the boy.

It confused you, how fast everything had changed. Just four weeks ago, you had felt like your whole world came crashing down around you when your teacher had asked you to work with Heeseung. Now, four weeks later, you found yourself laughing at something he said; something you four weeks ago could never see yourself doing. But most importantly, you found yourself enjoying his company.

Something that you thought wasn’t humanly possible.

‘’I am so, so sorry,’’

Heeseungs now familiar voice brought you out of your thoughts, the feeling that had spread across your chest slowly fading away as his voice echoed behind you; feeling like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. A small sigh of relief left your lips as you heard him walking towards you, your eyes still fixated on the screen of your phone as you turned around.

‘’Is this your payback for that one time I made you wait for me?’’ You chuckled, feeling both relieved and slightly annoyed at him for making you wait for so long without giving you a heads up; you had given him your phone number after all so he could text you if anything came up, to avoid the library incident happening again. Your eyes left the screen of your phone, darting towards the figure walking towards you in the corner of your eye.

Nothing, however, could’ve prepared you for the sight you were about to see.

The smile that had formed on your lips when you first heard his voice slowly turned into your lips slightly parting, the grip you were holding on your phone tightening in an attempt for you not to drop it onto the floor; scared that you’d potentially crack the screen. If it wasn’t because you were leaning against the locker, you probably would’ve lost your balance.

With his dark hair dripping wet from just showering, covering his forehead and half of his eyes; he placed his hands on top of his thighs as soon as he reached you, desperately panting as he tried to catch his breath. ‘’I’m sorry,’’ He panted once again, his eyes meeting the floor. ‘’My gym teacher wanted to talk to me about my grades so I had to stay behind,’’

You, however, couldn’t make out a single word that was leaving his lips. With your lips still parted your now wide eyes scanned the boy standing in front of you, still trying his best to catch his breath; your eyes landing on his very, very veiny hands - a result of him sprinting through the school just to get to you.

With your heart now racing, your eyes landed on his face again.

What the fuck?

Without his glasses, he looked like a completely different person. The person standing in front of you didn’t resemble the annoying boy you had been sitting next to every day for months now one bit, no, he didn’t look like him at all. The boy standing in front of you now looked completely different, with the glasses you had once called hideous nowhere to be seen and his biceps exposed thanks to the t-shirt he was wearing, he looked so fucking attractive.

Heeseung must’ve noticed the way you stayed silent, looking up at you through his eyelashes; his eyebrows slightly furrowing together as he noticed the pale look on your face. ‘’Are you okay?’’ He asked, concern lingering in his voice.

No, fuck, you were the furthest thing away from being okay right now.

Standing up straight, he tilted his head, slightly narrowing his eyes so he could see you better. He wasn’t wearing his glasses after all. ‘’Are you upset with me? I’m sorry I’m so late, I promise I didn’t mean to keep you waiting for so long, do you still have time to study? It’s completely okay if you don’t, we can just reschedule it or just meet up on Monday instead,’’

He was rambling, and you couldn’t bring yourself to listen to him. Not right now, not when he was looking like this. ‘’No!’’ You managed to get out, almost stuttering as you spoke. Heeseung looked at you, his eyes slightly widening at your sudden exclaim; now scared that he had really upset you. You tore your eyes off of him, sucking air through your teeth, trying to calm your racing heart down.

Why were you suddenly feeling like this? Why was your heart racing?

‘’I can’t study today, at all,’’ You stuttered, your eyes still not meeting his as you cringed at yourself for sounding so pathetic by stumbling over your own words. ‘’I just came here to tell you that, I’m busy today, so I won’t be able to make it today,’’

Heeseung remained quiet, his eyes darting down to your now clenched fists, nervousness and confusion washing over him. You had lashed out at him before, sure, but never like this; making the boy feel slightly anxious. The last thing he wanted was to upset you.

He bit down on his lower lip as you continued to avoid his gaze by staring at the lockers on the other side of the hallway, Heeseung fighting the urge to take your hands in his to check if maybe you had hurt yourself and that’s why you were clenching your fists so hard. ‘’But, you could’ve just texted me, you didn’t have to wait for me, wasn’t standing here waiting for me only taking up more of your time?’’ He let out, confusion and slight hurt lingering behind hs words.

You had always hated how smart Heeseung was, but right now, you swore you hated it more than you had ever done before.

‘’It slipped my mind,’’ You mumbled, still refusing to look back at him; scared that your heart would burst if you looked at him one more time. Heeseung just nodded in response, his eyes darting around the empty hallway as he thought of what to say. ‘’Well, are you going anywhere? Let me give you a ride, it’s the least I can do since I kept you waiting for so lo-’’

‘’It’s fine, Heeseung, I’ll take the bus, I’ll see you on Monday, okay?’’

Before Heeseung could even reply, you had already stormed past him without even looking at him. Turning around, his lips parted as he thought of calling out to you; hesitating to do so as he watched you walk further down the hallway. His lips closed once again as he watched you turn the corner, disappearing out of his sight.

With a heavy feeling in his chest and droplets of water dropping onto his shirt from not drying his hair properly, he wondered if he had hurt you by being late.

Mondays had always been your favorite day, at least since Heeseung became your seatmate; purely because the two of you didn’t share any of the same classes on that particular day. It was no different today, you were beyond happy that you wouldn’t have to face Heeseung during any of your classes - but not for the reason you usually had.

No, this time it wasn’t because you wouldn’t have to listen to his pen hitting his desk over and over again, nor was it because you wouldn’t have to endure him embarrassing you by talking over the teacher like he always did.

You were scared, and you were scared shitless to face him.

You had rushed home after you had lashed out at him in the hallway, your heart still pounding when you laid down in the comfort of your own bed. You had refused to go to school the following day, making up some lie about not feeling too well - which in reality, wasn’t a lie. You didn’t feel too well, you didn’t feel well at all, truth to be told.

The thought of you and Heeseung actually getting along had already scared you, and the fact that your heart skipped a beat when you saw him only made things worse. You had never even considered Lee Heeseung remotely attractive before, you had always hated the way he styled his hair, the way it’d neatly cover his forehead; and most of all, you had always hated the horrid, round glasses he wore every day.

But seeing him like that, with his hair messily covering his forehead and without his glasses, and not to mention his smile, oh God, his smile; you realized that he was in fact attractive. No, he was more than just that - he was breathtaking.

Something you never thought you’d admit, nor was it something you ever wanted to admit. But whether you liked it or not, it was something you could no longer deny, even though you had spent the entire weekend trying to prove yourself wrong, to no avail: Lee Heeseung had made your heart skip a beat.

With your last class of the day coming to an end, you found yourself anxiously tapping your pencil against the wooden desk in front of you, a habit you swore you hated and most definitely picked up from Heeseung. The only difference was that Heeseung had told you that he always tapped to the beat of whatever song was stuck in his head when you had asked him about his annoying habit, while you very much just repeatedly tapped it against the table with no beat whatsoever.

You had considered texting him, letting him know that you wouldn’t be able to make it to today's study session either. But with the deadline coming up, you knew you couldn’t be that selfish; you had to get the project done sooner or later. And the faster the better, you thought, so you could go back to hating Lee Heeseung and never think about what the confusing feelings you currently felt towards the boy meant ever again.

Even though you had accepted your faith by the time your last class came to an end, it didn’t make it any easier for you to make your way down the hallway leading to Heeseungs locker. The anxiety you had felt the entire weekend only doubled when you were about to turn the corner, knowing that the second you turned that very corner, you’d be able to see the lanky boy standing further down the hallway.

You weren’t sure what to expect. You prayed that he was back to wearing his hair neatly and that he was wearing his glasses this time, that he’d look like he normally did; so you could be reminded of why you hated Lee Heeseung in the first place. Maybe you just needed a reminder for your confusing feelings to go away, maybe you were just confused because he had looked so different; you didn’t actually find him that attractive, right?

Wrong.

You were wrong.

With one step, you turned the corner you were so afraid of turning, and you swore your heart stopped beating the second your eyes landed on the spot where he usually stood when he waited for you.

His hair was indeed back to being neatly styled and his round glasses were perfectly placed on the bridge of his nose again just like you had hoped, so why the fuck did he still look so breathtaking?

This was the moment you were supposed to feel the heavy weight you had felt the entire weekend being lifted off your shoulders as you realized that you didn’t actually find Heeseung as attractive as you thought you did, you were supposed to feel all the anxiety slip away; so why did it feel like someone only added more weight onto your shoulders the second your eyes landed on him?

Maybe you just needed to take a closer look.

Yeah, you definitely just needed to take a closer look.

‘’Hi,’’

Your voice definitely took Heeseung by surprise, his whole body slightly flinching as your voice came from beside him. Turning his whole body around, he looked at you; his eyes wide. ‘’Y/N? I didn’t think you’d show up today,’’ He managed to get out, his eyes still glued to you. You awkwardly smiled, shaking your head as you looked down at your shoes in an attempt to hide your now flushed face.

No, you definitely found him just as attractive, if not even more, up close.

‘’Yeah, me neither,’’ You chuckled, hoping that Heeseung would chuckle too. Only he didn’t. Instead, he remained quiet; only staring at you, not knowing what to say.

Heeseung had spent the entire weekend thinking, just like you had done. He had left school shortly after you stormed off, his mind clouded as he drove home; wondering why you were so upset when you left. He couldn’t help but curse himself out, telling himself that if he only had texted you that he’d be late you wouldn’t have been so upset with him; or if he just would’ve told his teacher that he simply didn’t have the time to discuss his grade because he had other plans - he did find meeting you more important, after all.

There were many ways Heeseung could’ve avoided you being upset with him, and he hated himself for not thinking about all those things before actually upsetting you. But Heeseung knew there was no way he’d be able to change what had already happened, so he spent the weekend trying to figure out how to apologize to you instead of sulking about you potentially being disappointed in him.

But now that you were actually standing in front of him, it seemed like all of the ways he had thought of how to apologize suddenly never existed in the first place; his mind going completely blank.

‘’Do you still want to study today?’’ Your voice snapped Heeseung out of his thoughts, blinking as he realized he had been staring at you. Clearing his throat, he tore his eyes off of you; rubbing the nape of his neck as he tried his best not to become flustered by your eyes being on him. ‘’Y-yeah, but,’’ He stammered out, something he hadn’t done in a long time; he almost never stuttered around you anymore, he had become so comfortable around you to the point where he felt comfortable talking to you without having to think about what he said - something he never felt with anyone else.

‘’I was thinking, maybe we could go to my house instead of the library?’’

Heeseung regretted saying it the second the words trailed off his lips and his eyes landed on your face, the shocked expression on your face making him regret every life choice that led him to this very moment. ‘’To your house?’’

‘’Yeah, I just, have this thing coming up later tonight a-and it’d be a lot easier for me if I was already at my house when we’re done studying,’’ He let out, the unsure look on your face making him want to sink through the ground.

He was supposed to apologize to you for letting you down before inviting you to his house, not the opposite - his plan already failing miserably.

You just stared at him for a minute, causing Heeseung to grow even more anxious. He had gotten used to the look on your face whenever you were annoyed with him, but this one didn’t look anything like that look; no, it looked like something completely different and Heeseung couldn’t tell what you were feeling, making him even more nervous.

He was just about to tell you to just forget about it and that he could probably find a way to work around it, that you could just work on your project in the library like you always did; when your voice interrupted him.

‘’Sure,’’ You softly let out, so softly that Heeseung almost didn’t catch it. ‘’Sure?’’ He repeated, making sure that he heard you correctly. You nodded in response, a small smile spreading on your lips. ‘’We can do that.’’

The car ride to his house was quiet, too quiet for your liking. But with Heeseung being focused on the road and with you staring at the window, you just couldn’t force yourself to say anything.

And neither could Heeseung. He thought that maybe this was his chance to apologize to you, maybe he wouldn’t get another opportunity today; considering how he knew you liked for him to be quiet whenever you were working. But with his fingers tapping against the steering wheel, the atmosphere felt far too awkward for him to utter a ‘sorry’.

So he just decided he’d do it as soon as you reached his house, before the two of you started working on the project; letting you continue to observe the nature outside through the window, looking at you through the corner of his eye every now and then - a small smile forming on his lips each time.

Well, you had also planned on apologizing to him for storming off like that the previous week when you reached his house. But the atmosphere was just as tense when you placed yourself on top of his bed, your eyes scanning his room; taking in the space your dear seatmate lived in.

Just like you had expected, his room was neat. A little too neat. But then again, it looked just like you had pictured it; neat, just like Heeseung himself.

‘’I hope you’re okay with working on my bed, I don't have another chair,’’ He mumbled as he used his thumb to point to the desk placed in the corner of the room, your eyes landing on the one chair before nodding. ‘’Are you not working on the bed?’’ You asked, your eyes landing on the tall boy standing a few feet away.

Heeseung looked over at you, gulping before opening his mouth to speak, ‘’I was planning on sitting by the desk, if that’s okay with you?’’ He asked, his eyes still glued to you. You bit down on your lower lip before nodding once more, your fingers nervously playing with the hem of your shirt. ‘’I mean, yeah, I just thought it'd be easier if we sat next to each other, if I need to get your opinion on something or anything,’’ You mumbled in response.

That was a lie. You could easily just send him whatever you needed to get his opinion on, but how were you supposed to comfortably apologize if he was sitting from across the room?

Luckily for you, Heeseung seemed to agree with your idea. ‘’No, yeah, you’re right, I’ll just sit on the bed with you.’’ He mumbled back, his eyes darting away from you as he used one of his hands to rub the back of his neck.

So he did, placed with his back resting against the headboard of his bed and with his laptop placed on top of his thighs, he began working on the project; just like the two of you had planned.

You, on the other hand, just couldn’t focus; just like all the other times you had worked with Heeseung.

You had been too preoccupied stealing glances at him from above the screen of your laptop from the second he sat down in front of you to even open the shared document, the sight of him being too intriguing to even consider looking away.

While not so discreetly staring at the boy sitting in front of you, you realized two things.

The first one being that you had no idea how to even bring up the subject, not knowing how to just suddenly apologize for something you didn’t even know if he cared about.

The second thing being that you accepted the fact that you indeed found Lee Heeseung attractive. Too attractive for your own good - especially when he focused on something.

With his lip nudged in between his teeth and his brows furrowed together as he focused on whatever stood written on the screen of his laptop, you couldn’t help but scan his features. You wondered for a split second how you had never noticed how sharp his jawline was before, maybe because you never really looked his way as the mere sight of him used to be more than enough to make your blood boil; you weren’t sure.

You also wondered why you had never paid more attention to his big, doe eyes before. His eyes were more than enough to make your heart skip a beat, not to mention whenever his pink lips would curl into a smile and the laugh you had learned to love would emerge from his throat.

No, you couldn’t do this anymore.

‘’Heeseung?’’

His name trailing fo your lips caused him to look up from his laptop, surprised to see your eyes already staring at him. He hummed in response, slightly tilting his head. You had to bite down on your bottom lip in order to control your breathing as his eyes met yours, inhaling through your nose before speaking, ‘’Can you take a look at this for me?’’

Heeseung offered you a soft smile, nodding his head as he sat up straight; getting ready for you to pass him your laptop so he could look at whatever you were referring to. But you had other plans it seemed, Heeseungs body freezing as he watched you crawl towards him - just to place your body in the tight space between his body and the wall.

His eyes widened as he felt your body press up against the side of his own, his breath hitching in his throat as he suddenly became aware of just how close you were to him. You had never been this close before, the closest you had ever been to him was the one time his hand accidentally brushed against yours while handing you a drink; that alone was enough to turn him into a stuttering mess.

But this? This was enough for him to lose his ability to speak for all eternity.

You, however, seemed completely unphased to Heeseung by the sudden closeness as you placed your laptop in your lap. Heeseung had to clear his throat as his eyes darted toward the screen of your computer, deciding not to say anything about how close you were to him. It made more sense for you to show him yourself, he thought, you probably didn’t mean anything by getting this close to him, right?

He watched as you moved the cursor across the screen, clicking on one of the tabs; an article now taking up the whole screen. Heeseung glanced over at you, sucking air through his teeth as he realized he would have to lean over you in order to actually make out what the text said. So he did, slowly leaning closer to the screen as he held his breath, wanting to get it over with as quickly as possible; before you had the chance to hear how his heart was racing.

‘’Oh, and Heeseung?’’ You let out after a moment, Heeseung only humming in response as he tried his best to focus on the text that stood written on the screen of your laptop, his eyes skimming through the text he couldn’t seem to make any sense of - maybe because he wasn’t actually concentrating. ‘’You remember how you told me you’d do anything for me to work with you on this project?’’

Heeseung gulped as he felt your breath fan across his neck as you spoke, ‘’Yeah?’’

‘’I want you to kiss me.’’

Almost choking on his own saliva, your words causing him to freeze; his eyes no longer skimming through the text.

He stayed still, feeling your eyes burning into his side profile as he remained in the same position, trying his best to comprehend the words that had just left your lips. You wanted him to kiss you?

Your warm hand coming into contact with the skin covering his cheek almost caused him to flinch, your hand gently cupping his cheek as you forced him to look at you. You swore that your heart almost stopped beating as soon as his big eyes met your own, his eyes wide and staring at you in pure shock.

Your eyes darted between his eyes and his lips, your own bottom lip placed in between your teeth as your eyes landed on his plump, pink lips. The lips you had caught yourself staring at one too many times during these past few weeks.

Heeseung didn’t even get to fully comprehend the position he currently found himself in before he suddenly felt your soft lips press against his own.

The kiss was soft, Heeseung staring at you with wide eyes as he watched your eyes fluttering shut, your hand still placed on the side of his cheek as you gently pulled yourself towards him. Heeseung wanted to close his eyes, he wanted to kiss you back; but he just couldn’t. Instead, the shock of feeling your lips press against his own took over all his senses as he felt your thumb gently stroke his cheek, your lips still pressed against his own.

You quickly sensed that Heeseung wasn’t kissing you back, causing you to pull away; guilt overtaking you, had he not wanted you to kiss him?

Heeseung, however, almost let out a whine at the loss of contact. So he did what he deemed appropriate, bringing his own shaky hand towards your face; cupping your cheek before pulling you in for another kiss.

This time, his eyes fluttered shut as soon as he felt your lips press against his own again. He could tell that you wanted to kiss him just as bad by the way your other hand suddenly found its way to his other cheek, pulling him even closer to you; letting your lips mesh together.

Heeseung had never kissed anyone in his entire life. He had no idea how to kiss, he had no idea what to do with his hands nor did he know what to do with his mouth. So he let you press yourself against him, almost letting out a whine when your front teeth collided with your own, feeling embarrassed. The embarrassment, however, left the second he heard a giggle trail fo your lips before once again placing your lips on top of his.

He wanted to touch you, he wanted to bring you even closer to him, he wanted to feel more of you; his hand gripping onto the hair behind your ear as he forced you closer to him, your lips still leaving small pecks on top of his own. The whimper that left your lips when his fingers brushed through your hair, however, wasn’t something he had anticipated - causing the hair on his arms to stand upright.

Not once had he thought a whimper would make his heart melt, yet it did.

It also seemed like his fingers brushing through your hair caused you to want more as he suddenly felt you swiping your tongue across the bottom of his lip. Uncertain of what to do and slightly panicking, he pulled away; staring at you with wide eyes. You seemed to pick up on his uncertainty almost immediately, brushing your own fingers through his hair in an attempt to ease his nerves before pulling him back into a kiss.

Your attempt at easing his nerves definitely worked as he let your tongue enter his mouth, your wet muscle coming into contact with his own. Heeseung swore he could’ve let out a whine at the feeling of your tongue nudging his own while your lips moving in sync, gripping onto your hair even harder in an attempt to somewhat ground himself.

Him gripping onto your hair only seemed to fuel you on even further as he suddenly felt you move the laptop that he had placed in his lap before quickly moving his own as well, placing it in front of him before climbing onto his lap. You kept your lips attached to his own, both your hands now finding their way to his hair as you further deepened the kiss.

Heeseung still had no idea what to do, especially now that you were sitting on top of him, his heart only beating faster as he felt your hands leave his hair - only to grab onto his own. ‘’It’s okay, you can touch me,’’ You mumbled, guiding his hands towards your waist before placing them there, causing Heeseung to gulp as he grabbed onto the fabric of your shirt covering your waist.

You pressed your forehead against his own, his lips more plump than usual and his breathing heavier than usual from your shared kiss, his eyes meeting yours. ‘’Do you want me to take off my glasses?’’ He stuttered, scared that they were in the way of you kissing him.

You quickly shook your head as your hands found their way up the sides of his neck, cupping both his cheeks again. ‘’No, I want you to keep them on.’’

Heeseung was about to protest, but had no time to do so as you stole his next breath away by pressing your lips against his own once more. Not that he complained, the only thing he wanted right now was to kiss you, with glasses on or not - it didn’t matter to him as long as he got to feel your lips.

The kiss was quick to turn rough, Heeseung trying his best to copy what you were doing, moving his lips the same way you were moving yours. Heeseung couldn’t help but feel blood rush to the apples of his cheeks as he felt your breasts press against his chest, scrunching up even more fabric in his fists as he pulled you even closer.

It almost felt euphoric to him, having your tongue slip into his mouth and your lips meshing together. It felt unreal, almost like he was dreaming; until you grinding yourself against his crotch brought him back to reality.

Almost like a thunderbolt hit him, his whole body tensed up as his fingers let go if the fabric of your shirt - quickly placing his hands on top of your thighs. His hand landing on your thighs caused your slow movements to come to an abrupt end, pulling away from the kiss to look at him.

With his big, doe eyes staring right back at you, the fingertips of his hands pressing into your clothed thighs, he shook his head.

Not because he didn’t want to feel your clothed core grinding on his own clothed crotch, God, no, there was nothing he’d rather feel right now. But he also knew that his euphoria would be short-lived if he let this go on any further, knowing that he most definitely wouldn’t be able to please you if it did end up going that far.

‘’I’m so sorry, I got carried away,’’ You mumbled, your hands slowly slipping away from his face and slightly using your knees to hover just above his crotch; Heeseungs eyes widening as the words left your lips. Why were you apologizing?

‘’No,’’ He let out as he grabbed onto your wrist before they left his face completely, ‘’I want to, Y/N,’’ His breathing was still uneven and he almost stumbled over his own words as he spoke, his eyes still staring into yours to show you that he was being genuine, wanting you to know that you hadn’t done anything wrong. Guiding your hands back onto his cheeks, he frowned.

You just stared at him, puzzled. ‘’So why are you saying no?’’ You whimpered, pressing your forehead against his. With a frown still plastered on his face, he felt his cheeks heat up once more as he realized how stupid he was about to sound.

‘’Because, I haven’t done this before, and I just, I want to be able to please you? I’m not saying that we’ll have sex, oh god, I mean, unless you want us to? I just want you to feel good too a-and I don’t think I’d be able to do th-’’

Heeseung didn’t even get the chance to continue his rambling before a small whine emerged from the back of his throat, suddenly feeling you press your lips right below his ear.

The feeling of your wet lips pressing a soft kiss against his sensitive skin caused his eyes to flutter shut, the new sensation taking over his body.

‘’You’re thinking too much, Heeseung,’’ You whispered against this skin, leaving yet another wet kiss right below his jawline, ‘’Just let me make you feel good, okay?’’

Thinking was what Heeseung did best, especially in moments where he felt stressed out - like right now, for example. But with your lips pressing soft, wet kisses against his neck he suddenly felt like he couldn’t think straight for the first time in his entire life; especially when he felt you press your lower body against his own once more.

Through gritted teeth, a small hiss left Heeseung’s lips, his hands now placed on top your thighs again; his eyes fluttered shut as he let you slowly grind yourself against him, only nodding in encouragement when Heeseung slightly tilted his head to the side - making it hard for the boy not to dig his nails into your clothed thighs in an attempt to tell you he was enjoying it.

Was it too early for him to get hard?

He couldn’t help but gulp as he felt his cock beginning to grow in his pants, how could it not, when he had you grinding yourself against him so carelessly? Scared that you’d feel the tent beginning to form in the crotch of his pants, he uncomfortably shifted around; which caused you to shake your head. ‘’It’s okay Heeseung.’’ Your soft voice echoed right beside his ear, his heart beginning to race as he felt you push yourself down even more, and if you hadn’t felt his now semi hard cock before - you most definitely did now.

Your hands trailed down his stomach, Heeseung’s breath hitching in his throat as he felt your hands playing with the waistband of his pants; your lips still pressing innocent kisses against his throat by the time your fingers began playing with the zipper of his jeans. His eyes fluttered open, he wanted to see what you were doing, he wanted to see what you were doing to him; see what you were doing that could possibly have this effect on him.

Maybe he should’ve kept his eyes shut, because the sight in front of him was definitely too much to take in all at once. With your head still dipped in between the crook of his neck and one of your hands resting on his chest as the other one continued playing with the zipper of his jeans, he couldn’t help but let the whimper that had been threatening to leave his throat escape.

His whimper, however, was quickly replaced by a low groan as he felt your palm press against his now almost fully hard cock. A small hum of satisfaction left your lips, the vibrations of you humming against his skin sending shivers through his body. With you now slowly palming him on top of his pants, he couldn’t help the whimpers now continuously trailing off his lips, slightly buckling his hips so he could feel more of you.

He had been too lost in the bliss of your hand slowly stroking his clothed hard-on to notice the way you had separated your lips from the skin of his neck. It wasn’t until he felt your hand leave his crotch that he realized you had stopped kissing his neck and were now looking right at him, his eyes meeting yours.

You had to hold back a whine yourself as your eye met his, his big doe eyes bigger than usual as he questionably looked at you, almost like he was begging for you to continue. ‘’Do you trust me?’’ Heeseung nodded a little too eagerly to your question, causing you to press a soft kiss against his lips. ‘’Then let me make you feel good.’’

Heeseung swore that his whole body went into shock when you separated his thighs, placing yourself in between them before moving further down the bed; his eyes widening as you looked up at him through your eyelashes, your face now on the same level as his crotch.

This was a sight Heeseung never thought he’d see in his entire life, not with anyone and especially not with you.

‘’Is this okay?’’ Your voice brought him out of his daze, his lips still parted as he realized he had only been staring at you. Gulping, he slowly nodded.

Heeseung had already felt his cheeks heat up the second you got in between his thighs, but now that you were unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants before sliding them down his legs; he had never felt more embarrassed and vulnerable in his entire life.

And the fact that you were now staring right at the outline of his hard-on, his underwear being the only thing separating you from actually seeing his cock, made him feel even more embarrassed. He placed his hands over his face as he felt his face heat up even more. Maybe this was a bad idea, a terrible idea even, forcing his eyes shut; not wanting to see the disappointment lingering in your gaze.

You, however, were anything but disappointed. You couldn’t help your jaw going slack the second your eyes landed on his very prominent outline, a small gasp almost leaving your lips as your fingertips slowly grabbed onto his still clothed cock; giving it a gentle squeeze, earning a low groan from Heeseung.

You must’ve noticed the way he was still hiding behind his hands, causing you to lightly tap his now exposed thighs. He slowly opened his eyes, separating his fingers so he could look at you, his eyes immediately meeting yours. ‘’Is it okay if I take them off?’’ Not finding the strength to speak, he only nodded in response. He took a deep breath as he felt you hook your fingers under the waistband of his boxers, slowly pulling them down his legs.

As he felt his hard cock spring up, hitting his lower stomach; another hiss of both embarrassment and desperation trailed off his lips, followed by him covering his eyes using his hands once again. He simply just could not look at you, scared that he’d faint from the amount of awkwardness he felt by you staring at his now fully exposed cock.

‘’Heeseung, baby,’’ The nickname leaving your lips accompanied by a chuckle caused the now red boy to look at you from behind his hands once more, ‘’Don’t hide, there’s nothing to feel embarrassed about, okay?’’

Another groan emerged from the back of his throat as he slowly let his hand slip away from his face, hesitant to look at you; scared that you’d laugh at him or make fun of him for blushing so hard. But you never did, no, instead he suddenly felt you grab onto his girth, causing his eyes to immediately land on you.

Using one of your hands to experimentally stroke his cock, your lips parted in awe. You never would’ve thought that Lee Heeseung, the boy you once swore you hated, would have such a nice cock; his tip red for the lack of attention and throbbing in your hand. You leaned forwards, looking back up at him through your lashes before pressing a soft kiss against the tip.

The new feeling was almost enough for Heeseung to cum right there and then. His lips parted as he tried holding back a groan, failing miserably to do so as he watched you kiss yet another kiss to the tip of his cock; a small smile forming on your lips as you watch the boy laying in front of you melt into your touch.

Still slowly stroking it using one of your hands, you continued peppering kisses all over his tip, enjoying the way he squirmed around at the sensation. You then stuck your tongue out, leaving a wet trail from the base of his cock all the way to the tip, pushing Heeseung over the edge. He was about to tell you to please make him feel good and stop teasing him, you, however; seemed to already be on it as you wrapped your lips around his cock.

A loud groan left his lips in surprise as he felt your wet mouth wrap around his tip, followed by a hiss; his hands gripping onto the sheets as he tried his best not to buckle his hips forwards, wanting to feel your mouth on his entire cock. You pulled your lips off his cock with a pop, causing Heeseung to almost whine as he grew even more desperate.

But with you being quick to take his cock into your mouth once again, this time more of his cock filling your mouth; he never got the chance to even whine, not before you started slowly bobbing your head up and down.

With your lips now fully wrapped around his cock, all the nights he had spent in the darkness of his room tugging at his own cock, whimpering out your name as his own cum coated his stomach didn’t feel as perverted anymore.

Not that your tongue swirling around the tip of his cock felt anything like his right hand tugging at his own cock, no, his right hand couldn’t even remotely compare to your mouth now that he had experienced the bliss of your plump lips almost touching the base of his cock.

Heeseung felt like he was dreaming. Even though he had thought about your lips one too many times in the darkness of his room during the past few weeks, something he felt ashamed of admitting, he never thought he would actually get to experience it. In a way, it almost felt unreal - but the moan you let out around his cock, the vibrations causing a grunt to leave his lips reminding him that it was, in fact, real.

He wasn’t sure of just how loud he was being, not being able to stop the small whimpers and groans spilling past his lips; but one of his hands had somehow shakily made its way into your hair, pulling your head down in an attempt to relieve the throbbing of his cock. Every time your tongue swirled around his tip, he tensed up, the knot forming in his stomach telling him that he wouldn’t be able to hold back much longer.

He hoped that you understood that this was his first time and that the new feeling overwhelmed him, hence why he was gripping onto your hair and slightly lifting his hips off the mattress underneath him - desperately trying to mutter something about being close.

With him stuttering something under his breath, your eyes darted up to look at him. The sight in front of you almost caused you to let out a moan, his hair sticking to his forehead as he pressed his head into the pillow placed underneath his head; giving you a clear sight of his adam’s apple moving up and down as a result of him gulping, his lips slightly parted as another whimper left his lips.

He looked even prettier like that.

‘’Y/N,’’ He managed to stutter out, gathering even more hair in his fist as you hummed against the tip of his cock, your eyes still glued to him. ‘’I think I’m going to cum,’’

He didn’t even get to finish his sentence before the knot in his stomach snapped, a loud groan leaving his lips as he thrusted his hip forwards, not being able to control his own body as his orgasm washed over him. He was too busy trying to stay conscious as his overwhelming orgasm caused his whole body to tense up to even realize that he had unknowingly pushed your head down, your throat closing around his cock as his white seed shot down your throat only heightening his high.

With small whimpers trialing of his lips and his eyes tightly shut, he felt you pull your mouth away from his now twitching cock, droplets of his own release dropping onto his abdomen as his hand slowly let go of your hair he had bunched up in his fists.

It took a while for the boy to catch his breath, seeing stars as his eyes finally fluttered open, seeing the outline of you through his blurry vision.

Wait, did he just cum in your mouth? Without your permission?

Embarrassment shot through the boy's body, his eyes widening as he blinked; his eyes meeting yours, panic now slightly starting to set in as watched you stared at him with your lips slightly parted. ‘’I-I’m so sorry,’’ He managed to stutter out, placing his hands on both sides of his body before propping himself up so he was sitting upright.

You, on the other hand, just stared at the boy - appalled.

He had indeed just spilled his own release down your throat without any warning, and maybe you should’ve been angry with him; but how could you, when you could feel your own wetness seeping out of your hole?

‘’I couldn’t stop myself, I promise I didn’t mean to, I’m so sorry,’’ He continued rambling, the panic now being clear as day as he spoke, ‘’I’ve just never, felt so g-good before and it happened before I could sto-’’

Feeling you place yourself on top of his lap once more and smashing your lips against his own, he stopped speaking. The kiss was messy, your lips harshly moving against his own as his spit mixed with yours, combined with the taste of his own cum. The sudden kiss took him by surprise, your clothed core coming into contact with his already sensitive cock causing him to hiss against your lips. You, however, didn’t stop; a low whine leaving his throat as he felt you bite down on his lip.

‘’What are you doing?’’ He managed to whimper out as you pulled away for a second, taking in the sight in front of you. His lips were now slightly bruised, a result of your lips meshing together with his and you nibbling on his bottom lip; his doe eyes were big as he stared right back at you. Fuck, why did he have to look so pretty?

‘’You don’t think I’m done with you, do you?’’

Heeseung gulped, ‘’Y-you’re not mad at me?’’

A small chuckle left your throat, using your thumb to stroke his cheek. ‘’You’re so fucking stupid sometimes, you know that right?’’

Heeseung knew he wasn’t stupid. Heeseung was a lot of things, but stupid most certainly wasn’t one of those things; well, at least for now - knowing he’d probably be beyond dumb by the time you were done with him.

3K notes · View notes

capslocked · 6 months

Text

KINKVEMBER DAY: 6

[prompt: blowjob]

male reader x hyeju

12k words

“I mean, don’t you think,” Hyeju says, wagging a finger at you, “that when you suffer through a bad date, the world ought to owe you something?”

"Like what?" you ask.

"Better taste in women - maybe more orgasms; I dunno, a blowjob?" She shrugs. "The general idea is just that someone gets to cum."

You nearly choke on the air in front of you. "Jesus, Hyeju, warn a guy."

“What? I’m trying to commiserate with you,” Hyeju laughs. “Wouldn’t that be funny? Being able to kiss someone who actually, you know, might love you back, and at the same time. Imagine not hooking-up just to forget a shitty day. Sounds wild, right?"

"Utterly deranged."

"So wild."

The first time you hook up with your roommate, it’s because of genetics - though not in the weird, uncontrollable way your body gets rigid and sensitive to any pretty girl who wears nothing but a towel moving between her bedroom and the bathroom, or how her eyes might flick fast from your chest up to yours - or given that the absolute shape of her is a blessing from one god or another (benevolent, clearly). That's not why Hyeju and you find yourselves only a few months later grinding on each other after the clock ticked past midnight, making out on New Year's Eve.

No, it has to do with the fact that Hyeju's nearly failing the nine AM section of molecular genetics because she's spent every lecture doodling stars and planets and planets shaped like asscheeks and planet-ass constellations while everyone else writes notes or doom scrolls twitter or whatever and she is somehow simultaneously the only student who never slept with her face on the lab desk or missed an assigned reading and the only one who absolutely needs a tutor.

It's just cosmic odds that you'd be that one: her roommate, who shouldn't be talking so loudly in the library about sex (in a sort of non-sexy, Mendelian kind of way) or be thinking the kind of things you've started thinking when Hyeju wears one of her more sleepshirt-esque long sleeves, her voice getting lower as you rattle off, "fruit flies and thale cress, definitely, it's just an error of fate or chromosome splitting..." before trailing off into a question.

"This is the worst thing that has ever happened to me," she finally tells you. You listen to her sigh into the binding of her textbook, facedown. "I'm really going to bomb this exam."

You tap her hand twice with your highlighter across the desk. "Then you're pretty damn lucky, if you think about it."

She turns to you, smiles a bit. "Okay, point. The worst thing will be having to retake this stupid fucking class."

"Why didn't you ask for help or go to office hours if you knew you were... failing?"

"Maybe because doing anything more than the bare minimum to get through a class I don't care about is my definition of, failing," she mumbles. "Why didn't anyone tell me a single lab is worth half my grade? Or that the TA is this fucking unreliable? How is this the one thing, really, beyond the basics, that can't be taught by wikipedia, a wikihow article and a youtube video?"

You scoot your seat closer to her. "You really need to relax."

"Fucking tell me about it."

You turn it over in your mind a few times, capping the top of your highlighter.

"Want me to get you off?"

And it’s not like you really mean it, when you say it, which is the strangest thing: you wouldn't actually suggest it, normally, wouldn't mention it in passing and then leave yourself open to the follow up and cross examination; yet there it is, after three, four hours of cramming notes on heterochronicity and the sloshing of gametes - you actually did propose it.

Hyeju jerks up, surprised.

"Are you serious?" She looks around, nearly snorting. "In the library?"

The face you’re giving her makes her scoff.

“You’re absolutely nuts.”

You have character flaws; the inability to admit wrongdoing chief among them. Hell, maybe it's from your mother - or maybe all your brains are just scrambled by the fact that Hyeju's sitting there with her pen against her pretty lips, hair glossier than usual as she scans your face and makes your entire body feel like a reactor core in meltdown.

Maybe you can blame what comes next on that.

"I'm always serious. I'm asking a serious question," you whisper, closing the textbook and resting your elbows on top. You look around quickly, like you're sneaking something in instead of this perfectly reasonable exchange, the perfectly platonic - except maybe not so much - way for friends to help each other.

"And I'm wondering what you're asking." Her cheeks are definitely pinker, you think, or the way it fills out her face, from the bottom up, is just that easy to imagine.

“I’m saying you haven’t gotten laid in months.” Here, you realize, these blocks of mental logic that definitely weren’t there when you blurted it out start to coalesce into something solid as you go on.

And you hadn't been wrong when you thought no one had given Hyeju a helping hand in a long, long time: you've heard through the walls or the floorboards at odd hours of the morning that she spends far too long fingering herself to a mind-numbing, tear-worthy frustration that leaves her knuckle-deep but never, ever sated or satisfied.

"No one's around, you'll feel better. You said it yourself."

Not a work of your imagination here - her ears are fucking burning.

"Wait a minute." She pushes her chair back, away from you and your gleaming offer. It clatters on its back legs, and a librarian waves her finger in warning. You wave back, sheepishly, until she stops and Hyeju stands and moves away from the table to talk, hands crossed over her front.

She turns and asks in a hushed-down-voice, "how did you know - did you hear something last night?"

"You couldn't keep it down even if you wanted to, honestly."

Hyeju turns further and throws a glare at the library doors, because obviously her noisiness and their collective noisemanship, or whatever the hell the word is, is clearly the root of the whole goddamn problem.

"Look - if not, no big deal - but I'm just saying you'll probably get over it and at least think less about sex. Or at least the wrong kind of sex."

You expect her to turn, sigh, and ask if you've lost your mind. Expect her to gather her jacket from the back of her chair, take her books and stomp out the room. Or even burst out laughing at the insanity, before slapping your arm lightly, in playful retaliation - anything other than the serious look she gives you in return, tilting her head, pressing her lips.

She turns up at the ceiling for a moment, contemplating something. And it's cute. It's so very, very cute, how her mouth pouts as she considers the possibility, right up until she says, "okay, fine."

The moderate twist of surprise taking hold in your brow must be visible.

"Oh, don't tell me that was all talk. Get me thinking about the right kind of sex or whatever."

You laugh, which has the librarian staring at both of you - until the librarian stops staring and probably sees Hyeju sliding back into her chair, the full, pent-up weight of her concentration pointed your way, knees inching apart - you, and Hyeju waiting, your knee bumping into her inner thigh, leaning closer as the textbook hits the floor.

"Don't laugh."

"Not laughing, seriously. Not laughing," you stammer. “I just think you’re just full of surprises.”

She spreads her knees further and sits taller, looking right at you.

"So then, surprise me," and then presses her cheek to the crook of your elbow.

You slide your chair right into the space next to hers, nuzzling up into the space under her ear. “Keep studying, Hyeju, you’ve got shit to do.” And then you slide your hand beneath the waist of her sweats, knead the swell of her thigh until you find the seam where her leg meets her body, press your palm down on the place just next to her center, your thumb in the middle. All this perfect pressure.

"Fuck," Hyeju says under a shudder. She's breathing heavier when your hot, open-mouthed kisses start landing at her neck, and she probably tries to read her textbook for about forty-five seconds longer. But there's the clench of her jaw right as your middle finger begins tracing circles beneath the fabric of her panties, and her gaze is blurring until she can't tell the difference between an allele or your fucking name.

"Shh-shh," you quiet her, finger tapping harder, playing with the slick wetness beneath all those layers of thick cotton and pressing two fingers there until her knees part like they’re not interested in resisting at all. Your lips press a kiss to the shell of her ear and she tenses all at once, hand shooting up to cover her mouth.

She simply leans back, closes her eyes, and lets you take care of her.

“Okay, you’re right,” she says, shaky and uneven, “that really did take some of the edge off. Did we ever review - poly- uh, pol-polymers here?"

The sweatshirt sleeve falling off your shoulder is a hindrance to any actual reading; her shifting against the chair isn't helping either, but you manage to push down the thoughts of stripping her down completely and giving her your tongue as yet another distraction.

"What did the syllabus say? I don't know if we need to read too far on 'polymers'," you say, having going through an entire afternoon without considering this once, but as you curl your fingers and take an honest crack at cramming the remaining chapters into her head, the knowledge that no one else is getting her this wet - except for whoever she's got in her mind's eye at three AM - is enough to get you feeling a little dizzy.

It’s probably supposed to be weird, given that you’ve never gotten any of your other friends off spontaneously in the library, or there's the fact that you can't really avoid each other afterwards, how she shows up in a silk negligee when you're pouring coffee before sunrise to prep for another day and you have the opportunity to notice - yes, she has amazing taste in underwear, yes, you might not have really appreciated her chest and figure enough before - yes, fuck it. She catches you noticing that first time, after coming downstairs with nothing but one of her cropped t-shirts and her board shorts, and she smirks when she realizes you're still thinking about it that afternoon, when her foot grazes yours while you're both washing dishes, and she dries the plate in her hand with a slow swipe.

And it is weird, actually, to describe what’s going on between you in words.

A few words, anyway, like a one-word label to describe what it was: friends or roommates-with-benefits, or - fuck buddies - god, it's even worse. Fuck buddies? Fuck friends? Something equally terrible and stupid that still makes sense, like something out of a shitty rom-com: it doesn't capture any of the rest of the myriad ways in which things can feel less or less friendly between two people.

So, friends was never, ever going to cut it. Roommates - although technically correct - is just this side of too clinical. And let's be clear: strangers don't wake up every morning together, walk to the same class, sit close together in the middle seats, secretly flick a strangers' skirt up in an empty lecture hall and get on their knees and work your mouth onto her pussy and watch the legs of the desks shake when her feet arch into the floor.

"The notes you've got are better than mine," is how Hyeju tries to put things, the next day and every time after that, standing in the doorframe, or at the foot of your bed and looking every bit the disheveled and hopeless mess you imagine she might spread out over the sheets of her own.

It gets complicated, which isn't really a surprise.

"You think your roommate is going to be home tonight?" is the question that comes up multiple times - from a revolving door of pretty names and faces. Hyeju has at least one opinion, if not more, on each of them.

"Tell Jinsoul I say hi," she says once, watching you get ready for a date, and you nearly bang your knee on the edge of the bathroom vanity.

It's one of the more harmless comments she's offered.

Another, backhanded: "if you’re just looking for a blowjob everyday between lunch and our physics lab, let Hyunjin or Heejin or whatever-her-name-is know she's easily my favorite," Hyeju says on your way out one morning, still under her covers.

Or,

Hyeju's texted a simple "uh, Chuu? really??" when you mention, once, how much fun you've been having - and what kind, as you make a round of self-conscious and rambling phone calls the next day that land you with only one prospect for the night - but your roommate's also no longer being your roommate by the end of it, bouncing against your thighs in the bathtub and moaning something about please more and fuck or fucking make me cum; the details escape you a bit.

That's what friends are for, probably.

Still, in the same, bare-bones explanation, friends also aren't for falling asleep on you - or letting you hold her - or fucking you awake in the middle of the night. Friends aren't for pushing down your jeans when the early-morning dew settles on the back patio, or jerking you off in the seat beside yours with a sweatshirt over your lap when a group project is due later and you all should probably work on that and instead get yourselves off and leave the mess of what you're doing half-finished. Friends aren't, probably, for offering to watch you rub your palm up and down your cock the night before next semester's exams when you can barely sit in a single chair and you can't think about molecular biology or neurochemical transcriptions when your whole body aches to do the transcribing. (If you can catch that drift.)

The lists of who are and are not good enough for you goes on and on - the latter longer than the former.

So, there's Choerry, who according to Hyeju is 'straight up, a total slut'. Yeojin, who gets mistaken for your little sister enough times that Hyeju refuses to - in good faith - let you keep sleeping with her. Both Heejin and Gowon are apparently too pretty for you. "Kim-lip?" she asks, in the middle of peeling garlic, "is that one name or two?" And laughs into a bottle of beer, loud, while you're telling her to quit being nosey and watch her fingers with the damn knife.

"You have a problem."

"Why, because I asked a few simple questions? I think anyone would be a little curious with the -" she pauses to wave her fingers - "I'd be remiss to not be interested in the very drama that unfolds literally across the hall."

She waggles her eyebrows.

You look up at the ceiling. God save you, you think. "Hyeju."

("Seriously," Hyeju chimes in one evening, arms around you, and a mouthful of the dinner you'd cooked.

"You need better taste in girls. Don't waste time on anyone too dumb, or who drinks the milk straight from the carton, or doesn't wash her socks with the same load of laundry. Oh, and - no one who chews loudly. No one who can't tell you're going to cum. The worst is someone who doesn't know what you like, trust me on that. And remember the last rule: don't do anything with someone who eats at a really slow pace, it's incredibly depressing."

You rest your chin on her shoulder from the spot behind her. "Duly noted, oh Master of all Knowledge."

She sighs into your arm, but in the next moment, her voice gets a lot softer, her hips fidgeting slightly against you. "I just mean you're the kind of person people would want to sleep with again," she says, before turning to say your name and kiss you again and again as your bodies curl inward.

"I wonder what that means, Hyeju," you say.

"Fuck," Hyeju groans as you slide further into her, pushing her back into the sofa - hands on her shoulders, legs bent on her either side, "don't tease me like this.")

The first snowfall of the year is mild, a tiny dusting, nothing that sticks on the pavement in the alley or on the sidewalks - or the lintels - or in Hyeju's hair, but by evening, when the snow picks up and everything goes quiet, Hyeju has changed into flannels and wool socks in anticipation, curled up like a cat at one edge of the window ledge as the world begins to go white. It's enough that you even pull on a thicker sweatshirt, open up a book, and join her.

She turns toward you, quiet.

You've reached a point in the semester where this, the silence, doesn't unsettle you anymore. It's the space you fill up with time in-between, where you can see the contours of her body against the orange lamplight of the space heater, or watch her kick off the top half of the duvet at night as you fight over space in her bed and wonder about the bare skin peeking out from her shorts.

"Feeling bored?" She slides her foot a little closer to yours, almost imperceptibly. "Am I keeping you entertained enough?"

Her lips pull up at the corner. You chuckle.

"Oh, no."

She scoffs and puts her hands on her knees, pushes herself closer to the window sill and bumps her elbow into your shoulder. The bare skin of her neck and shoulders and face is getting a little redder as she cranes it forward. "Okay, if not, do you need someone to entertain you, maybe."

Your mouth twists, fighting a smile.

Hyeju is so close to you, you could kiss her really, really easily and not care how she'd feel about that. It's not a habit, not as often as it used to be, but every once and a while - she starts this game. Every once in a while, Hyeju just starts smiling like that, and leans into you like she's daring you to play along, hard round of chicken until it's clear what the two of you are doing with each other; the minutes pass by, one, then two, and then - maybe she pushes first, her leg on yours, or a kiss to your jaw or a palm on your back as she walks behind you - and then you'd turn and kiss her full on the mouth and pull at her clothes like nothing's holding you back.

She cocks a smile, and says, "why don't you go and call what's her name."

"Because."

You glance out at the cold, gray light outside. If you had a better understanding of any of the workings inside you, you could reach forward and tell her everything that's stopped you.

You're supposed to meet the girl-of-the-month at a New Year's party. Hyeju looks disgusted within the first ten seconds of the whole story.

"Heejin dumped you once, like, two months ago? For no reason."

"It wasn't a break-up. We talked about what we did wrong and we're doing better," you say, lifting one finger.

She glares, then, tilts her lips into this unamused purse that you can't take seriously at all when she starts walking back and forth across your living room, hands moving emphatically to the sides as she speaks, like she's in the process of unveiling a brilliant argument and is using both palms to guide your eyes toward the unquestionable logic. "God, you're the worst. You're just her easy fuck and you'll still answer her late night calls, really."

She leaves the rest unsaid - that she's just not that into you.

"I don't tell you which boys or girls you can call up," you try, putting on a boot. "If you'd like, I can. Name off the list, and make sure that the right name leaves my mouth this time."

Hyeju doesn't blush when you glance up, which is the surprising thing. No - her cheeks have grown a little more sullen, and she stares down at her socks in contemplation. You're in the middle of fastening up the lace and getting to your feet, waiting, wondering if Hyeju's going to continue this conversation, when Hyeju takes one small step forward.

And her hand goes out to touch your chin, thumb at your lip, fingers holding it in place - like you'll turn if she lets it go - the sharp shock of the sensation like a short circuit, before her knee comes between yours, and your body tingles, at the root and stem. "Hey," she says, eyes meeting yours. The edge of her nail flicking gently as she drags the curve of her thumb downward.

"Hyeju, please - I need to get going."

When you start walking toward your car, she calls out from the window. Something about how you better have the time of your life, fun for the two of you - it’s only fair.

(You feel, somewhere, a certain strange loss.)

"What, are you going to stay up and wait until I come back? Or am I interrupting your session for the night."

You can barely make it out, the smallest look passing over her face. "Maybe," she says, and then: "god, it's fucking cold."

New year's parties have this sort of quality of being simultaneously the most thrilling, exciting prospect on earth and the absolute worst fucking event in the history of the planet - depending on the venue, how egregious the racket is for a gin and tonic, the guests - oh, and the company.

Jinsoul and Choerry are both in attendance; in separate corners and in equal states of undress and intoxication, which seems fine by every present party, who are for the most part busy ogling one or the other in the full spirit of the New Year - as you would too, if the stars are aligned and Heejin hasn't already gone upstairs with half the guestlist, her arm wound with someone else's, as per her recent habit; if you haven't been tossed aside for any of the usual, less forgettable prospects and for something bigger, better and certainly much more enjoyable.

Which, if there were any way to track these things down with math, you'd already be reaching for your pen and notebook, as Hyeju would describe this sensation in a phrase she picked up from some podcast. Inevitable means necessary, or something.

"Good party," says Heejin, throwing back another drink.

"Yep. You said that," and you finish yours in one long draw, hissing through your teeth.

Heejin is a goddamn delight, of course, in all the simplest of ways. When she looks up at you - mouth pink, hair framing her face - she is so clearly and completely aware of what she is, and exactly what the world has in store for her, what it has set aside.

"Do you want to know what happened at the other New Year’s party we went to last year?"

"I - yeah. Hit me. Tell me all about (another date you were on) Heejin, that’s exactly what I’d love, let’s hear it."

She throws her head back and laughs, before starting into an overlong recount of her latest, greatest conquest, you on the outside. This is the thing - this is how a pretty face, with just a hint of a flirt, will make you feel for a beautiful, attractive, vivacious - absolutely shameless, raving sex-crazed lunatic of sorts who, apparently, loves to run around town and make a bunch of your closest friends fall in love and heartbroke-er, with every passing notion of her beauty, her charm - just the tilt of her chin, and some poor fucker is lost, absolutely lost.

Even she knows it's a bad habit of hers.

But who doesn't have a weakness? You've got plenty of your own - plenty, Heejin can admit - everyone does, in a way, and so Heejin, the other sloppy drunks milling about the party, and Choerry and Jinsoul all agree - someone like her just happens to have the best kind of weakness - so, so many of them, in fact:

"Can you believe how easily a few words get Jinsoul riled up? Or how it only takes a couple drinks for Choerry to pull up the hem of her skirt, not knowing the effect that'll have?"

And as for the last, and arguably worst kind -

"Hyeju, huh? What a great start to the New Year," is her final word. Heejin reaches across and downs your drink. Her expression turns just shy of grave, a pensive look. "Not your smartest idea, the living-together situation. Who in their right mind would put themselves in such a mess?"

"Thanks for the great advice." You wave her off, irritated.

There's another laugh before Heejin leans her face onto the table.

"Though maybe she's onto something, now that I think of it. Who needs anyone for the New Year?" and it's almost convincing the way her mouth, lined up with the rim of the glass, smirks when she drinks. "Mm. All a matter of taste."

The snow is halfway up your calves when you realize you need to find a cab at 11:30 PM on New Year's Eve. (Which, categorically, is the worst time to need to find a cab on New Year’s Eve.)

Or just:

11:36 PM and the nearest bus stop is too far away.

11:41 and the temperature feels like its dropped by fifteen degrees, like you should start wondering what hypothermia symptoms look like and what signs to look out for in yourself, your future wife and your children. You try not to think about why, but you get your phone out and immediately call Hyeju, so you're not sure what you think you're denying.

"No party?" she asks. Her voice is distant and sleep-ridden, but Hyeju's quick to pick up, like always.

"It sucked, I'm trying to find a way home early. Happy New Year."

"Happy New Year." There's a long pause, filled in by the squeak of snow beneath your boots. "Get a kiss?"

"Uh, not yet. In the market, I guess."

Hyeju's low hum isn't reassuring, either. "Well, you're kind of missing your window. Bad time to start looking."

"Says you, and here you are - still up for someone to spend the night with. Look at you," you respond, all this snark in your voice that she clearly hears. There's a long sigh.

"Actually," and Hyeju, much to the confusion of you and possibly the whole world, doesn't respond, and for a few seconds, the line goes completely silent, leaving you hanging.

She breathes once and comes out of her sleep with a yawn.

"I actually," she begins. There's a lot less preamble this time - this tone - and when she speaks again it comes through not nearly as sleepy, "was sorta wondering. Are you on your way home?"

"If I don't freeze to death, yeah."

"Yeah - no, yeah," and that's it. That's the sum total of what makes any difference between where you were a moment ago, and where you are right now, head spinning, fingers buzzing. Hyeju waits and there's the wind on the line, snow settling on your hat and in the corners of your face.

"I - sorry. I probably woke you up. Are you expecting someone else," you say, very small. Your foot drags behind the other. The cars whizz by you faster, passing.

"Hm. You're the only one, I guess," and after that - just static and the muffled sounds of her footsteps on creaky floorboards - or the tick of her ceiling fan? You can't make heads or tails of the rest of the background noise. All those words she said.

You bite your tongue to stop whatever curse words start pouring out from the jumble and cross streets, or the pedestrian underpass; snow gets stuck in your lashes and burns, but your chest is like a molten furnace. You consider telling her right there on the line, everything you're feeling - so hot, it feels like fire, Hyeju, I'm not used to getting heated and desperate and impatient - that even if you're not here now - just imagining your face - the sound of your breathing, it feels like I'm on the cusp.

"Yeah. Sure - good - okay, Hyeju."

"I guess, see you soon?"

"In a bit."

(It takes 33 minutes, trudging through cold and wet. It's all very dramatic, you think, and there's no one there to even watch you suffer for it, or - though you try not to think about that particular line - really, no one at all.)

You hear the way your key grinds in the lock - it's been like this, jammed since summer, when you pushed the front door in late at night a little too hard and something came undone and made a sound like a small stone tumbling down the world's deepest well. The hinge squeaks, and there's ice on the stoop, on the doormat, on every nook and corner you can see, all the way up your neck.

And your face, too. You shake off your hat, undo the buttons on your jacket, and pull off your boots before hanging them and all the layers to dry.

You can make out the outline of her profile at the edge of the door frame, right in the kitchen - barefoot, hip pressed against the island, pajamas - the dim lights illuminating the shadow of her head, hair over her face -

- but you don't pause. The next layer. There's nothing left to say. You're too cold for excuses, too smart to use the same ones you'd been taught, like: this is a normal, acceptable circumstance; everything, anything, will be perfectly normal if the two of us act as though that's the case; pretend we're both acting within the norms of reason, within our senses and logical thinking and I won't make myself go out in the cold a second more - won't stand for more than five minutes with your eyes looking like they're waiting.

So you move instead toward the kitchen, where the heating is better and she's already pouring coffee. There's a heat radiating out of the oven, and it smells sweet in there, like cinnamon and warm butter, and you wish you weren't still shaking, blood barely thawed, but there it is - her face, watching you - eyes gleaming as you wrap your hands around a mug, steam rising up - a shiver running up your arms; her knees skirting yours when she takes one step back and there's the cabinet door shut, then open again, and then a palm on your back.

Hyeju presses a cup of the fresh coffee, now warm enough to drink, to your chest, and says, softly. "What the fuck happened out there?"

She starts reaching out to wipe the frost and slush from your face. You let her hand hold you still, eyes wide.

"Oh you know," and her palm stays, even though it's obviously - suddenly - gotten warmer, and wetter too, and the longer she stands there and lets her fingers warm the pale bones of your cheeks, her wrist, the base of your forehead and ears, the more expectant the look on her face grows. "The usual."

Her eyes go as narrow as they ever can. For just a moment. "You're gonna die a slow, pathetic death someday, just for the record."

"Don't forget how this starts," you try, and feel your neck go warm, throat and breath tight. And not even when her shoulders shift, her mouth going smug - just looking at you.

“I mean, don’t you think,” Hyeju says, wagging a finger at you, “that when you suffer through a bad date, the world ought to owe you something?”

"Like what?" you ask.

"Better taste in women - maybe more orgasms; I dunno, a blowjob?" She shrugs. "The general idea is just that someone gets to cum."

You nearly choke on the air in front of you. "Jesus, Hyeju, warn a guy."

“What? I’m trying to commiserate with you,” Hyeju laughs. “Wouldn’t that be funny? Being able to kiss someone you actually, you know, might love you back, and at the same time. Imagine not hooking-up just to forget a shitty day. Sounds wild, right?"

"Utterly deranged."

"So wild."

When Hyeju sighs and gives a long, nonchalant hum, leaning her body closer, pressing up until her waist hits the cabinet top and you're pressed together chest-to-chest, she looks at you and her hips settle, the heel of her foot reaching around your calf.

There's that tingle. Again and again. You're not even trying to not think about what it might mean.

But then, you start, silently and unconsciously, trying to answer the question: why don't you, maybe. Why don't you, actually - Hyeju kisses you, pulls on the loop of your jeans and lets your lips brush the corners of hers and pulls away, suddenly, mumbling and head-turning. And just as abruptly, your nose buries in the space between her neck and her shoulder, where it's all warm. And when she puts her palms on your hips and squeezes and twists her knuckles into the fabric there, it seems she wants your hands up her shirt and under the small of her back.

And her hands - they're fidgety tonight, fingers curled up to keep their nails and the chill away, moving lower - one on your ass, while the other comes forward and begins rubbing circles, a handful of times - enough so you're letting a deep, low breath escape into the space just above her collar, your knee working its way between hers.

"That," Hyeju breathes, lips at your ear, hand reaching down to trace the hard curve of your cock pressing in the spot right between you, and there's that small rush again, familiar now, like you've caught a rhythm and she wants to feel it in its fullness: "is how you can make it up to me. For making me stay up. Worrying about you, god knows why. Waiting."

You're still half-frozen in a way, slowly thawing. "Hyeju, I've been trudging through the consequences of my actions this entire night. What am I about to suffer through now?"

"It's no consequence, honestly."

You squint.

"Just an idea, but," she breathes again; your bodies getting closer, and looking up at you, she grins and reaches down to touch the very root of you, her fingers drumming. You make a sound, and at that she says, her voice coming out thick, low:

"Want me to get you off?"

She squeezes again for good measure, just to be clear. Just a slight curl of fingers that's enough to send a flash of heat and the transient thought: why, why, why is she always wearing those fucking shorts, even in the winter?

Your blood thrums through the pulse at the end of your cock. You shake.

"Alright," is the response you let out.

And at that, Hyeju takes your wrist and leads you upstairs.

"There's that look. Don't worry. We'll find a way," is all she says as your feet walk forward, up step-by-step and higher and further up to her room. "After all, isn't that what we've always done?"

"It's usually whatever will make me stop talking."

Hyeju puts her chin on your shoulder. Her eyes follow the lines and shapes in the patterns of wallpaper as you turn onto her side of the apartment, and even through the wall and behind the doorway, her arm still around you, she pulls at your chin until your faces turn and you both can share each other's heat.

"Who, you and your awful habit of talking out-loud in your head while you work through equations?" and she brings her lips to yours, close and warm.

"Hey. Fuck you," and your voice breaks into an odd, low laughter when she kisses you harder.

"Yeah, I know," she whispers as her hand dives past the band of your boxers, palm sliding easily until she's gripping you fully and letting her fingers rub. She holds you there, in her room, her arm looped through yours, another arm resting at your belly.

And she stops there. She stays like that: holding your gaze.

"Look, Hyeju," you say, unable to not, though this can hardly count for anything; this, what you're about to admit, is nothing new. You swallow. "The thing is - you shouldn't."

"Don't want me to touch you?" she says, finger to your lips.

"Well, that's different. Maybe. Is there - maybe it's not the best thing to ask you right now."

Hyeju considers for a brief moment and tuts under her breath. "Can you at least do me the decency of waiting until I'm done wringing you dry before you say shit like that."

And she moves then, toward the bed.

So:

No. Yes. Maybe. Who knows, you tell yourself. Maybe, but only because you'll do anything if it makes you feel less sick, like a creature standing over its own skeleton - an abandoned shell; a relic, something to be feared and disgusted, as you let her go between your thighs, kneel beside the bed.

"I mean - since when - have you felt," is just as far as you're allowed to go before Hyeju presses her nose into you and pulls you out of the thin, cold fabric - palm, thumb, all those slender fingers swiping over your head - and now there's just the smell of her room and the shock, the buzz that runs down your spine and settles somewhere, somewhere inside the small and desperate movement of your hips and the tension building just below.

And god, fuck, Hyeju’s lips.

These soft, wet, pouty fucking things that could suck you straight off if you were feeling any less stupid or inexperienced or sentimental - if she wasn't solely intent on teasing it out of you first; a slow drag of the tongue up the underside; the tip of it poking, tracing the rim, like she's figured you out, just where to lead you. She's ready to smoke you out - always - until you're not taking in a breath every ten seconds but starting to close your eyes to the overwhelming, needling pleasure, too sharp, the way she knows you like best.

"Now you're finally - mm - starting to sound hot," and that smirk comes back to the corner of her mouth, teasing the sensitive belly of your cock and tracing her tongue everywhere. "With the voice and -"

You're losing track, her thumb and fingers circling the whole length of you - just, one after the other - mouth a hair-breadth away, her breath hovering like a promise.

"- that face."

"Don't, fucking tease me-"

The sound of your cock going in is like nothing else.

Wet and filthy in all the right ways.

Just the suction in her throat has your eyes nearly roll back into your head - Hyeju's gaze calmly watching the terrible sort of helplessness that washes over you like this: her lips wrapped around, bobbing - her hair falling into the wet mess of her mouth and sticking there. Hyeju likes being a little sloppy, likes feeling that spark run up the length of her tongue when she slides. It's the wet and the heat that gives everything away.

"I don't have much of a choice -" her jaw and chin is smudged when she pulls back off of your cock, mouth glossy and glistening, "and honestly, wouldn't it be a better use of our time, or my talents if I actually do that thing?"

“Which is?”

She looks up for a bit and sighs, the flush blooming pink to the tip of her ears and into the rounds of her cheeks and all across her neck. "Since, as far as I can see, what you really like - is, oh I'm just spit-balling here," and she stops just to bite her tongue and look into your eyes, "it's letting the girls take care of you? Isn't that right?"

You want to tell her, no, not always, that it's not as though you enjoy giving control completely - that that would be completely and unarguably, the opposite of true -

That most of the time you love it when the person you're with is a little bossy, a little crazy for you. You know some guys really get off on a strong woman and maybe, maybe if a girl's pretty and dressed up, and - sure - a little wet, but that's hardly -

“You know I’m right,” she says, a flicker of mischief skittering across her features. “These walls are paper thin.”

You want to tell her, perhaps remind her, that she likes someone in charge just as much as you do - to be taken care of, told what to do - to have a hand curled up around her throat and the other at her tits while a guy fucks her the right way and takes the reigns when she needs. So who are you, when it comes to knowing her better? And who, really, are you fooling?

But before you can get any words in: Hyeju dips, lips parting where the head of your cock throbs, and then disappears; and the hot wet warmth, enveloping all around your shaft and back; the curve of her throat contracting.

You moan - a lot, and louder this time - into the whole feeling. The way her fingers work the distance from the base, twisting and twisting and twisting into the pout of her lips; or how the sound is like nothing - a whimpering, messy sound - almost a whine and definitely not a slurp as your cock sinks further and further, until it's all one big, heavy throb.

And it's like Hyeju can read your thoughts, the visual you have of her lips screwed tight around your shaft - cum leaking from the corners, and her eyes scrunched up tight, as she looks up to watch your face unravel - this perfect image of her taking you, all of you, swallowing each drop as your hips start rutting up into her and - and - and.

Or else she gets impatient, because then Hyeju gives one long pull off the tip of your cock - saliva mixed in the precum there, and that shiny string of fluid hanging, caught in the middle between your bodies - a disgusting and irresistible sight. Her jaw slack, lips swollen and full, and her mouth gone wide open, wanting.

"Fuck - that's good. Don't stop," you start to whimper, desperate, at the sight, the smell. Her hot breath coming quick over the red wanting wetness left behind - then touched by the cold air - fuck -

She slaps your cock to the corner of her lips as she speaks.

"Can you believe what's going on down here?"

"God, can you -"

"And to think most guys wanna jump straight in. That or fuck a load out between my tits."

"Hyeju, shit, come on -"

She kisses the soft tip, right where it’s most sensitive, rolls it along her lip. Then, back down the length of your shaft where she's generous with her mouth inch after inch - lapping, licking, laving - and Hyeju begins working her way down and downward, nestling in at the edge of the bed and between your thighs.

Your eyes blow up the first time she dips low enough to put your balls in her mouth.

“Mmhm,” she hums.

It’s killing you and she knows it; it’s killing you and she can feel the pre-cum leaking from your slit - the thumb she has moored there, keeping everything right where she wants it, running circles up the length with such little intention - she could bring you to the end just like this.

"Am I supposed to believe it?” she asks out from beneath the shadow of your cock, looking up at you with her eyes all wide and brilliant - pupils dark as sin. “That not a single one of those girls ever did you proper?"

You curse under your breath. Hyeju seems amused, at least, like she can't help but love doing that to you, which is almost worse and honestly the sexiest thing a girl can be. You groan - wanton, raw and desperate and feeling exactly what she wants you to feel when her nails drag along the dip of your hip bones.

"Did they not leave you fucked-up the right way?"

Her wrist flicks out these twists and turns, making your spine bend to her control. Like even when you're sure to be bundling her hair in your fingers and fucking the whole length of your cock down her throat, all of this is the worst kind of power-trip for her - not the other way around.

Her tongue runs through the tangle of your balls, slowly, lasciviously, as though the plan is to memorize and map every detail.

And the worst part is, how much it's making you desperate for the warmth of her mouth - where she'll run her tongue up and down and over and around and inside - before sucking you off nice and slow.

"Or maybe," she laughs; another flick to the top and then suddenly her hand goes faster and the fist pumping the rest of you tightens. "They left you so needy you're resorting to having the bestie suck you off so that you won't be desperate the next time you date. Oh my god-"

Hyeju breaks into this fit of laughter, and you're nearly cross-eyed at the feeling of your entire existence - not just your cock - so wholly held within her mercy, and her pity, and you're breathing so shallow now you'd think this is the real reason people have died and will die - this exact moment where you're choking and stuttering at the edges, so very close to cumming and going absolutely bonkers with how good Hyeju is with her hands, her tongue, her mouth - everything - how much she's wrecking you, and your jaw drops, wide open, her name dripping like molasses off your lower lip.

"Are you going to cum?" she asks, curiously. All as if she can't see you nodding, collapsing under pressure, and then and there: "should we make it official?"

Her nose tickles the seam of your balls. And your toes begin to curl and uncurl - all this anticipatory, coiling pleasure burning from her throat, shooting from the pit of your stomach; the tightening spiral, twinging and stretching every nerve - as her lips enclose around the end of your cock, softly.

And oh, just excruciatingly slowly.

You watch the irresistible shape of her mouth travel down until her throat feels so incredibly, beautifully, and unbelievably tight, and then, just like that - Hyeju starts fucking herself onto you; pushing forward and down the full, rigid length of you, hard and fast - each time hitting deeper inside her - all that sticky, messy, wet squelching.

"Unh-unh, yeah. Unh. Mm-!" you say, or moan, or some animal version of that, maybe, it’s incoherent.

But regardless:

It's messy and your hands scramble for purchase in the sheets of her bed when you feel that snap, the tightening of a trigger; when your balls roll up and it builds, and builds, and it comes faster - harder and -

"Hyeju," you pant, and it sounds so, so filthy. "I'm gonna cum, if you - gonna cum-"

Hyeju pulls you free from her lips, quite possibly at the most final of final moments, to rub the base up and down, just right, between her fingers. Your cock is resting right on her cheek when it all happens. When she squeezes her fingers around your balls just enough to hear you wheeze and make a sound no sane man should have the right to. And fuck, you're cumming all over her face - or just one side of it - which is already just -

Okay, fuck.

She makes a startled sound and her fist closes tightly around your shaft when you pump another fresh load of white up onto her eyebrow.

"I'm, ah-shit," your mouth moves faster than the blood in your veins - and now the shame - oh god, the humiliation, it's pulsing right behind you. "Hyeju," you apologize.

Only, Hyeju has no interest in any of it. She doesn't seem offended or disappointed in proportion to how you're ruining her pretty face: "no, just do it, cum wherever you fucking like."

Which isn't what you're expecting at all, because Hyeju makes no effort to close her lips, let alone avoid any of it; nor is she making a fuss about the sticky mess in her hair, her mouth, nor as another stream of cum throbs from your cock, all tangled up in the long dark eyelashes that sweep down across her cheek.

It’s fucking filthy: you're cumming all over her and she's just kneeling there, telling you, "good boy."

See, she pushes through it, languidly - all those filthy sounds, and those watery little tears gathering at the edge of her eye and all of that, mixing up together until you're rolling your head back with your orgasm, shuddering, feeling weak - drained dry -

Except,

Hyeju's pushing a finger to your chest, kneeling up tall from the side of the bed. She turns her body toward the center of the bed and wipes a bit of the cum on her knuckles into the sheets. Here you feel like you've done something terrible or at least regrettable, like that last round at the bar when you have a test the next morning; a dick move, all of the sort that requires apology.

"You gotta give me a minute, if you're thinking about hopping on."

"Hmm. Sounds like a lot to ask."

"Wait," you grab her arm. Hyeju grins and there's nothing stopping the shake of your knees now, that weakness between your thighs: "let me get you a drink."

"Or."

"Or?"

Her tongue peeks out, running along her upper lip. Her eyes drop again, hands dipping below, beneath the hem of her shorts and oh. She slips a hand past her bra. The whole outline of it. And you -

"Mm, I could show you what that actually means." She lowers her chest, her breasts, and a lot of skin to the mattress while keeping your cock firmly in her hands. "That look tells me you wanna stick around a bit. Stay up past New Year’s, you know?"

You're almost unable to parse her words, there is so much to look at: the jutting curve of her chest, cleavage pressing into the mattress as her body settles between your knees. A soft chuckle; a sigh: "you are seriously the best lay, no-one else can get hard the minute after they just fucking exploded all over me-"

"Fuck, watch it," you hiss, because there's oversensitivity - and then there's Hyeju's mouth on the line of your cock, polishing you clean.

And it’s not that she isn’t trying to prove a point. Or that she's not trying to tease - that's an inherent quality of her character: a naturally dominant position with a high appetite for your lust. That much, Hyeju gets from you, whether you've got your head down between her thighs or the other way, too, so that her neck is arched around and her ass pushed up high in the air, legs open, and if she had any idea you would spend the next twenty minutes or more just going down on her, licking into her creaming cunt while two fingers work over her aching clit, then really, Hyeju would only encourage it - maybe get on top, force you to gag - and so you don't know where it comes from - how and why you want nothing more than to drive your fingers inside her and work her until she's a wet, squelching mess, not when this was always Hyeju's role of being the aggressor; and yes, sure, even the aggressed.

Surely not because you came so hard, still somewhat shivering with the remnants of a rather abrupt, painful, sudden and all-consuming orgasm.

"We're not doing anything else," she says, lips pulled up into a smirk right at the crown of your cockhead. But before you can respond she pushes a hot open kiss, and goes lower. She presses the flat of her tongue to the seam, just below the head. Licks a line right up to the tip and finishes with a tender flick that sends you fisting the bedspread in your fingers and leaning back as your mind begins to disintegrate -

"I'm not going to ride you yet, or going to get my hips in your hands so you can fuck my pussy real hard until I cry and pass out. Nothing of that sort is gonna happen." She licks one long drag of her tongue. Then, the other way. "I want to make this very clear: this isn't some huge favor - and if you want it - want it so bad, you can stay there and I'm going to do everything for you. We will get there - together," and with her voice shaking as she brings the wet, glistening skin of your cock just inside her mouth, she looks up. "We'll get each other off, just like this," and it's the deep, dark, throated moan that makes your thighs and all the nerves in between stiffen and buck when she swallows you again.

Hyeju's hands tug, pull her whole body closer still as it slowly bends, curves - her ass raised, her stomach lying on the bed. Her mouth takes you another few inches, until the tip of her nose is barely visible, but when she pauses to lick the cum still left over - the cum that's starting to leak out again - to breathe through it, then squeeze her palm and bob her mouth down, take another inch, until the sides are stuffed and emptying out again, that's when she finally has something to say: "got anything left? I'm a little starved."

"I. Christ, yes-" you whine, which doesn't help your case at all: the image, the image of you lying flat - back with Hyeju's head tucked between your knees, her hand pulling out your cock.

Sloppy, slimy-wet.

She presses an innocent, not-at-all-innocent kiss right to your tip, puckering -

"You know what I did learn in that genetics class?" she muses, tongue flicking over her lips. Hyeju's about ready for a second helping - you're losing it. "When I first saw that DNA diagram - the double helix and all those little base pairs, and everything - it made me think of your cock. Your cock and me. Specifically our DNA. Did you know-"

She presses her palm over the head and rolls it - teases and strokes her palm - her knuckles - her fist - the whole nine. "When I hold your big fucking cock, mm, and just get it right - up in here, rubbing all along my walls - so deep, it gets me in my fucking ribs, makes me choke like I never been choked before, ah-mm," and it's this thought sliding toward the front of your mind, this perfect picture: Hyeju, getting fucked hard and open and stuffed full and stuffed good and stupid; you’ve got more than a few inches on her, can make her feel small and delicate; you know how to do her right.

But here you have Hyeju stroking the shaft - holding her hand tightly up near the head, rolling and twisting and sliding down and pushing her whole body right into the side of your legs: the soft, solid length, warm flesh and curves everywhere pressing into you.

You sit back, and just watch Hyeju with her eyes cool and composed, like half of her fucking face isn't streaked with your cum, mouth wrapped and looking fucking satisfied to be a total, gorgeous mess. She makes a dramatic display of kissing the tip again, just before telling you words you probably dreamt up at some point - either sleep deprived, or, during three AM jackoff, fantasizing. "Sometimes, just from riding your cock, I can't sit up straight."

"Fuck," and you feel your whole body run rigid, because apparently that's something you’ve been aching to hear.

You're covering her mouth again. White streaking onto her lips - where she's catching it in the well beneath her tongue and letting it spill out of the corner of her mouth. Into the crook of your thumb, which catches a drip here and there and rubs it down the length - down the curve - and pushes it back between Hyeju's pert little pout.

"Doesn't count, mister, just more pre-cum," she says, all with the audacity of a wink and smile; her words are a little garbled around the head of your cock between her teeth. And when you nod and realize just how painfully your jaw hurts, your throat becomes tight and raw, a knot pulling the underside from the center. Hyeju slides her lips lower, lower down, to the hilt and stays there, just like that - one hand holding down the flat of your belly to keep your hips still, her chin hanging - bobbing-as she feels every pulse, every twitching shift. You curl one hand around the side of her face, over the sharp edge of her jaw; rub a thumb into the delicate skin of her throat.

She shifts. You start to tell her what you like: how hot the rush comes when a girl puts her tongue against the slit at the very tip, and licks at the precum in nice, quick circles, soft and fluttering. And how her fingers shouldn't hesitate either, Hyeju's not even struggling to give it to you - god - just giving and -

She jerks her head up, swallowing down her next breath like it's one of her last. "I'm serious, if you're going to fuck a hole, start with my mouth - we can move onto everything else after."

"You're ridiculous -"

She meets her lips to your head, kissing once. Again. Kissing every inch, letting her mouth wrap around and then just - staying, just - staying like that and humming, with you, enjoying the fullness, the smell of you, the taste, the shape, just the weight and size and you.

There is spit fucking everywhere.

And if it's not clear what you're supposed to be doing - her fingers weave through yours, squeezing hard at the wrist and you can imagine: pulling her forward by her hair and holding her down while she chokes on your cock. "Fuck, Hyeju," you say, and your voice comes out way shakier than you'd like, "when, how did it get like this, huh? You always - always did, shit, always want your mouth filled."

"Never figured you to be someone who'd get turned on watching their friend sucking their cock like this."

"Doesn't everybody love the sight of their cock in a pretty girl's mouth?

"You were really convinced they weren't lining up behind you? Or anyone in the queue who can't keep their eyes off of this thing. Tell me, and try not to lie, try not to bullshit this one out: how many girls have you come home and fucked and creamed their brains out - then asked for the sloppiest, most -"

"Honestly."

"- Filthiest, nasty, ball-busting, gut-wrenching blowjob ever to make them think - to make them really start wondering what the hell it was you did - like it's gotta be something that leaves them so ruined, they can't ever not compare - can't ever not compare this moment, right here. Ever. When you give them the hardest fucking of their life, compared to any other guy - can't not, because no-one, literally no-one's cock can fuck like you do-"

"Fuck-"

"Any harder. Come on, seriously, tell me it isn't true. Come on."

Her voice - her fucking words, the tone she uses and how her words roll: honey-warm and soaking with sweet, thick degradation - she talks like sex, and that's exactly what gets you harder, like it’s something else; like it’s nothing, like it’s less, so much worse - you feel this guilty-dirty heat pool at your tailbone and push down the hard press of you throbbing all the way to her nose. And Hyeju smiles as much as she's capable around the fat, round stretch, humming around the warm taste of you, before opening wide and sinking her throat on it.

There's nothing like it.

You've got two fists in her hair; she's so tight and wet around every god-damn inch. Her cheeks flush - hot to the touch; her tongue laving in slow, long drags, slicking your shaft nice and warm until you're balls-deep and pushing her further: a small shift to the hips, a push here, a harder, faster pull, and Hyeju's feet behind her go curling like an angry cat, wanting the tug.

A long, satisfied breath slips from the hollows of her throat.

There are tears threatening, thickening her lashes, and though she doesn't choke - you're just afraid. Every sound that she pulls out, her eyes blinking up to you as if it's only natural to love getting used by her friend's cock, like the very premise of it - swallowing down the very shape of you, dragged over her tongue and brushing cum into the back of her throat - is something she can’t go without.

But this is nothing compared to the noises from where her lips are pressed tight around you, where you're hearing and even feeling:

That gluck, gluck - where her chest spasms just the slightest when her nose gets nuzzled right into your belly and you remember how much she likes to hear you talk dirty, how fucking wet it gets her. The heavy, deep breaths, gasps; the strangled moans when your hips just buck - the heat and the thrill, and this is better than every other time because there's just something in this moment -

"I'm not gonna come again, not like this. Not in your mouth. You can’t-"

But Hyeju refuses to hear a word; just pumps your shaft faster, feeling it's familiar hardness grow and throb and ache and retch, all her effort paying off: you're slick with precum and spit, hard and straining, the whole shaft begging for release - all because of her. And Hyeju won't stop, she pushes her cheek onto your thigh and then taps a hand there to pull your hips. The motion drives your cock further still inside her. Until it’s bathed in her spit, your cum, all this mess.

Until it's reaching, choking her, and the muffled sounds she's making are filthy and wet and so incredulously hot.

But god. Hyeju has something of a temper and a habit, too: with those big beautiful eyes and the perfect plump of her pouting lips, her tits swelling up around, when your grip slips on her shoulder, and her mouth goes tighter - how the pleasure begins to make you unbearably cruel and you push her away from you, only for a second -

She doesn't wait or seem to care; Hyeju follows the cock with her whole head and whimpers so hotly in her throat when it plops right back on her tongue. "That's more - more like - fuck, oh, there we go," her nose and fingers prodding.

You groan through a high, strangled whimper, a helpless shiver that turns into an uncontrollable roll of the hips - you can't believe it: she's already so thoroughly debauched and defaced; just fucking painted with it. Your cum dripping off her chin and rolling down her neck.

"Fuck - gonna make me - ah, Jesus -"

When Hyeju seems to have reached her fill, the feeling, you're cumming - pumping the length of your shaft. And the moment she feels you twitch and throb and that first hot spill lands in the bend of her mouth, it's as if she understands and holds herself tight - her legs going stock-still while your eyes blow up behind her, your cock spewing another and then another thick, milky load into her mouth, over her tongue: all along the topography of her throat - sticky cum landing in every ridge and valley -

Hyeju catches as much as she can. What little she can. You cum and pump and gush so much that when you're finally finished - done - every last drop spent and given - your cock throbs soft between her fingers; her chin is a complete and utter mess and her chest heaves with the sound of her catching her own breath. Hyeju groans softly and just swishes the load around in her mouth for a bit as if wanting to remember its feel and weight before lifting her eyes to look into yours. You can just barely see the color.

"Jesus, Hyeju-"

The entire bit of it, slick and shining-wet. With a small moan, a sound from the back of her throat: one swallow and the cum is gone, disappeared, vanished. She smiles like she didn't just ruin your entire goddamn life and, with her body limp and exhausted beside you - her gentle hand rubbing a flat stroke over your thigh before yours slips up to meet her chin.

"You," you curse and roll your eyes, catching the mess at the edge of her jaw, the very little left in the corners of her lips. You feed the cum over her bottom lip - her chin, her throat - watching your friend: Hyeju's throat, bobbing. "Really didn't have to," you start, but you realize just how useless a point it is to make.

She's smiling and biting and showing you what's left between the tips of her canines. "Do you always do this to the people who suck you off?"

"That's an awful habit. A pretty girl's lips aren't meant to get that messy," you reply.

"Oh." She frowns. "Well, I do a lot of things I shouldn't."

"God, seriously," and you think there's no greater hell, no sweeter pain than whatever's lingering in these little aftershocks - this fizzling and dying sort of pain, where the body is buzzed with all you're aching for. It's impossible to stop this train of thoughts, is the fucking feeling of her-

But just then, Hyeju rises to her knees, a new spark in her eyes, as she grabs ahold of your wrist and tugs you off the sheets, a few inches closer.

"And you," she purrs as she drags the palm of your hand across her neck and collarbone, collecting what remains and making the perfect image, "well - you are going to help clean me up, like you said before." She sits tall; the arch of her spine is pronounced - her back, so, very, slightly tapering, to where your hand slips right off the last of it: the wide flare of her hips. "Now isn't that the gentleman's thing to do?" she asks.

"Of course." You sigh, resigned and in desperate need of water. "Of course," you add and smirk a little and slip your hand lower, toward where her skin is getting hot, and her body, "let's get you clean."

"Mm." She's already grinning. "You know what wasn't in those textbooks?"

"Oh, I can only guess." You bite your cheek and start to lower yourself back. "Give it a try."

Hyeju drags you by the wrist toward the hall, the bathroom, ostensibly the shower -

"There's no way in hell you don't want to put a baby in me, like, right fucking now."

"Is that what we're doing?"

Hyeju makes a face like you're stupid - she might've grabbed a towel on the way out. She wipes her chin a little while walking - the corner of her mouth where, well - where it looks like a little dribble has somehow remained. "No. But you’re going to fuck me like it is."

(There's got so much on her mind.

The door of the shower rattling in its frame as she struggles standing up against it. Getting fucked so fast and full, the feeling of both your hands cupped beneath the weight of her breasts. It's not the fact of where you are and your situation, per say - more about the immediate, the imperative nature. About fucking you. She was already feeling herself like, leaking the moment the door shut, so all that waiting, all that patience, really - and it's what drove her insane when you were, well: like that, after she put her mouth around your cock, made a right and proper mess of herself, and sucked you off.

Though there's less on her mind, clearly, when she cums all over your cock.

She's crying with her tits up onto the glass, your palm holding her ribs. Your cum-slick cock working itself hard again as it slips, back and forth, as you're fucking her open, spread apart. It's your finger in her asshole. That's what's on her mind then. How the press of your knuckle lights her entire fucking spine on fire - how the other hand finds her clit in all this, too, when you're no longer supporting the both of you but rather Hyeju is folding on her bent knee and trusting, on shaking and shivering, raw nerves, that you're not going to collapse.

"Fucking. God, please-"

There's the harsh slap of flesh - skin on wet skin, your palms against the sides of her ass and the curve of the breast. But otherwise - it's you, sighing - soft and gentle, like you can't get over the feel of her. "Hyeju, oh-fucking, god, fucking," is what you're saying, and it doesn't end up really mattering which one of you came last because she can feel you twitching, squelching in and out with how badly you're wanting to explode inside, but also you can feel her cunt absolutely begging, this fucking fluttering and clamping down on every thrust and the moment you manage to grind this angle she loses her ability to speak properly because you're not just, like - fucking her-

Just, absolutely, completely pounding her pussy, stretching her insides, dragging and sliding along the walls; each rough rub and thrust makes her knees quiver until her body is trembling and falling. But mostly her voice, the sharp gasp that shakes into her, how her nails are scraping the walls of the shower stall and she's saying - telling, crying and asking and wondering and pleading - just utterly astounded:

"Amazing," she huffs, breathes coming out cloudy and true onto the pane of glass, "you - it’s, fucking amazing.")

“And I am… Ironman.”

Your eyes flicker awake, hazy, as Tony Stark snaps his fingers, killing himself alongside Thanos’ army in the process.

The TV's long been running on background noise, though not as ambient. Its characters now bickering between the rubble and ruins and being picked up for the end credits. In the dark of the screen, you see Hyeju had nodded off and slumped over the side of your body. A new year means new beginning means resolutions and diets and gym routines -

Maybe no sooner than the sun can come up, apparently.

You lean over to grab your phone from the table: 4:14 A.M.

There's a lot of things you want to say, even more you want to hear, but your mind has begun to settle a bit - a lazy and dreamy thing that fills you with this sort of, tired kind of - not sad, or empty - no, of course not. That's hardly fitting; not after tonight. You want to wrap this in an idealistic sort of sentiment - maybe hold Hyeju close and let the hour carry you and the comfort be enough to forgive whatever there is to miss: like the fact, it's still really dark, so dark even outside. The moon reflecting off the sheet of snow on the street. And not even a distant dog barking, or car driving by or someone playing loud music in the early hours of the new year.

As the film drifts off into another set of commercials, you slip into an easy sleep that feels effortless. Your head drops, landing on the cushion by the arm of the couch, where Hyeju's hand begins to slip mindlessly across your belly, tickling your waist and causing you to slightly squirm - things are cooling down, but still a little agitated.

"Don't tell me you're waking me up, cause I just -"

She kisses the pulse at your throat and answers, mumbling half-words into the spot below your ear. "A kiss for a new year."

And maybe the world doesn't owe you anything at all.

Maybe it just gave you more than enough.

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