lem⁸

jay turns to you with that signature raised eyebrow. “why not? it would look perfect on you.”

“because it’s too expensive,” you whisper, glancing around like someone might overhear. “jay, that’s literally insane money for a necklace. i don’t need it.”

he sighs, the same sigh he always gives when you start this. “baby.”

“no. girl, no,” you insist, tugging his sleeve. “i already feel bad when you buy me coffee. this is way too much.”

jay looks at the necklace again, then back at you. without another word, he flags down the sales associate and says calmly, “we’ll take this one. and can you wrap it nicely?”

your eyes widen. “park jongseong.”

he just smirks and pulls out his card like it’s nothing. when the associate walks away, he wraps both arms around your waist and pulls you against his chest.

“you’re cute when you’re mad at me for spoiling you,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“i’m serious,” you mumble into his shirt, cheeks burning. “i don’t want you wasting money on me.”

jay pulls back slightly so he can look at you. his expression softens, but there’s still that stubborn glint in his eyes. “it’s not wasting money if it’s for you.”

later that evening, you’re both on the couch watching a movie when a notification pops up on your phone. it’s a delivery update.

“jay… why is there a package coming tomorrow from that fancy skincare brand i mentioned once?”

he doesn’t even look guilty. “because you said your skin’s been dry lately.”

you groan and hide your face in a pillow. “i was just complaining! i was going to buy the small version myself!”

“the set is better,” he says simply, pulling the pillow away so he can see your face. “and before you say anything, no, it’s not a waste. you take care of me all the time. let me take care of you too.”

you peek up at him, lips pouty. “you already do enough.”

jay leans in and kisses the pout away. “never enough.”

the biggest fight happens two weeks later.

it’s your birthday, and jay has planned an entire weekend getaway. you only found out because he accidentally left the confirmation email open on his laptop. when you confront him, you’re standing in the kitchen with your arms crossed, trying not to cry from a mix of love and guilt.

“jay, a private villa? for two nights? that’s crazy expensive. we could’ve just gone to a nice dinner or something—”

“we can still do dinner,” he says, leaning against the counter, completely unfazed. “but i want to take you away. just us. no schedules, no members, no stress.”

you feel your chest tighten. “i don’t want you spending all that money because of me. it makes me feel bad, like i’m taking advantage—”

jay walks over and cups your face gently, thumbs brushing your cheeks.

“hey. look at me.”

you meet his eyes, blinking back tears.

“you are not taking advantage of me,” he says firmly. “you never ask for anything. ever. you always tell me not to buy you things. you get embarrassed when i pay for dinner. you even tried to split the bill on our first date, remember?”

you nod, embarrassed.

“so let me do this,” he continues, voice softer. “i work hard so i can spend it on the person i love. it doesn’t feel good when you act like my money is a burden. i want to spoil you. i like spoiling you. it makes me happy.”

you bite your lip. “but… it’s too much.”

jay smiles, that gentle, patient smile that always melts you. “it’s not too much. you deserve the world, baby. and i’m lucky enough to be able to give you pieces of it.”

he pulls you into his arms and holds you tight, rubbing your back slowly.

“please let me take you on this trip,” he whispers into your hair. “let me show you off. let me wake up next to you with ocean views and order you breakfast in bed. let me do this without you feeling guilty.”

you stay quiet for a long moment, face buried in his chest. then you mumble, “you’re really annoying when you’re right.”

jay laughs, the sound vibrating through his chest. “i know. but you love me anyway.”

“unfortunately,” you tease, squeezing him tighter.

the weekend at the villa is perfect.

jay keeps catching you staring at the beautiful scenery, the huge bathtub, the massive bed, and every single time he says, “stop calculating how much it costs in your head.”

you try to argue when he orders the most expensive bottle of wine for dinner, but he just raises his hand in that sassy way (the same one he uses with the members) and says, “babygirl stop.”

you end up laughing so hard you almost choke on your pasta.

on the last night, you’re both sitting on the private terrace under string lights. jay pulls you onto his lap and wraps his arms around your waist, one hand resting protectively over your stomach even though there’s nothing there yet.

“thank you,” you whisper, playing with the necklace he bought you that’s now resting beautifully against your collarbones. “for everything. i’m… still learning how to accept it. but i’m trying.”

jay kisses your shoulder softly. “that’s all i ask. just let me love you the way i want to. money is just money. you’re priceless.”

you turn in his lap to face him, cupping his face with both hands. “i love you so much it scares me sometimes.”

“good,” he smirks, but his eyes are warm. “because i’m never going to stop spoiling you. get used to it.”

you groan playfully but lean in to kiss him anyway — slow, sweet, full of gratitude and love. jay kisses you back like you’re the only thing that matters in the entire world.

when you pull away, he rests his forehead against yours.

“happy birthday, my love.”

“best birthday ever,” you admit softly. “even if you spent way too much.”

jay chuckles and pinches your side. “there you go again.”

you laugh and hide your face in his neck. “sorry. habit.”

“it’s okay,” he murmurs, holding you closer. “we’ve got time. i’ll keep reminding you until you believe you deserve every single thing i give you.”

and as the waves crash softly in the distance, you think maybe — just maybe — you can start believing him.

because with jay, love isn’t just words.

it’s him ignoring your protests.

it’s him rolling his eyes with a fond smile when you say “don’t waste money on me.”

it’s him whispering “too bad, i’m spoiling you anyway” right before he kisses you stupid.

and honestly?

you’re the luckiest girl in the world.

© jongst4r, 2026

⤷ ゛ohyul ˎˊ˗

humiliation! ˎˊ˗ he likes it when you call him out on things that makes him flush pink and pretty. call him anything; perv, pathetic, good boy, it’s got him creaming in his pants. LOVES when you grip his hair and force him to look at the sticky mess he’s making whilst your stroking his cock until he’s cumming all over himself and your pretty hands. making him lick your hand clean as you call him filthy for doing so, only for his cock to twitch up again in interest.

dacryphilia!ˎˊ˗ at first he felt guilty when you started blubbering on his cock, the overwhelming sensation and pleasure all too much for you. but now it gets him riled up, watching you cry on his cock only. his own stomach flutters seeing you sob so pitifully. your beautiful face streaked with tears as he licks them off you, pounding into you harder as he shushes you softly, not wanting to cum just yet.

praise!ˎˊ˗ he js loves you sm and always wants to make sure you know how good you’re doing for him, your small pussy sucking in his cock greedily. he leaves kisses all over your body, singing praises into your ear about how perfect you are and that your pussy was made for him. return the favour and it has his brain turn into mush, snapping his hips into you quicker as his cock throbs inside you, already close to cumming.

dirty talk!ˎˊ˗ loves when you talk straight filth into his ears. he gets off on it. no shame. you could be in a public space and you’d lean over to whisper the most outrageous things. it leaves him frozen for a second but then he’s squirming in his seat, head hung down to hide the flush on his cheeks as his hardening cock starts to strain against his jeans. and then he’s rushing you home, throwing you onto the bed and demands you to say it again. blood rushing to his cock as he fills out your nasty fantasies you were whispering to him before, wanting to see if you’re all bark and no bite. there’s no tapping out now!

overstimulation!ˎˊ˗ when he’s sinking his cock back into your filled pussy he says he can’t help it. he just loves the feeling of your sticky filled cunt squeezing around his now painful cock but he can’t stop. he’s panting into your neck and spilling out apologies as you whine for him to slow down because you’re so sensitive. he’s holding your shaking legs down as he’s adamant on making you cum and squirt again on his cock.

⤷ ゛ryul ˎˊ˗

creampies!ˎˊ˗ he’s the type to spread your sticky folds w his fingers to watch his cum dribble out of your stretched pussy. he curses under his breath watching your sticky pussy clenching around nothing, trying to keep his seed in. he’s scooping the mess up with his fingers immediately to push it back inside you, not wanting you to waste a single drop.

choking!ˎˊ˗ his hand is always somehow creeping up your neck to wrap it around firmly on your throat, not applying that much pressure but just enough so you can feel it. he can feel your wet cunt clench around him as he does it, loving that dizzy feeling you get. he gets off knowing how much you trust him to not hurt you. he feels this buzz that he’s in control and you let him be. and when he squeezes ever so lightly around your throat you gasp and that glint in your eyes brighten as get lost in the dizzy feeling, your orgasm hitting you much harder and it's got him groaning and needing more.

roleplay!ˎˊ˗ …you’ve gotta hear me out on this, have you seen him at fansigns?? bros always dressing up and low-key think he’d be into that. give him a police uniform and some cuffs and he’d be on it. professor and student. doctor and patient. at first you’d laugh at him and say no which made him pout in a corner but of course he respected your decision. but one time he actually convinced you to try it with him. the first was as a policeman and that’s when you realised how sexy this man is in a uniform and giving strict orders. it actually didn’t take much more convincing after that. if you were both in a goofy mood there would be times where either of you would laugh and break character but it was always fun AND you’d have the most mind blowing orgasms through these fantasies. deffo would try to fuck you in one of his naruto cosplays he stole from one of the fansign events and idk how that would go down lmao

hair pulling!ˎˊ˗ he’s got the perfect hair for this and it goes both ways. he’s wrapping his hand around your silky hair for leverage whilst he fucks you doggy on the bed. and when you’re being bratty he’s tugging harshly at your scalp, pulling your head back so your throat is bared at him, enjoying your soft pleas for some mercy before shoving you face down into the pillow to shut you up. and when he’s eating you out he loves when you’re tugging at his hair to get him off you, too sensitive and impatient. or you’re gripping his hair to shove his face impossibly closer to your dripping pussy, groaning against your sticky core as you use him for your pleasure.

size!ˎˊ˗ the way his body engulfs yours underneath him has him reeling. you’re clutching weakly at his broad shoulders with your small hands as he pounds into you. he luvs watching how your pretty cunt swallows his cock so eagerly, a bulge imprinted onto your stomach that has him groaning. he’s splaying his large hand over your stomach and presses down on it muttering “can you feel me in there sweetheart? can’t believe your tiny pussy is swallowing my cock so well.” he’s obsessed with the way he can fold your legs up and over and fucks you so deep in the mating press and you can’t do anything except take it.

thinking abt riding ohyul in the studio late at night whilst he’s wearing these thick frames. face flushed and hair fucked as he chokes on another sob as you bounce up n down, gummy walls clenching so tight around his thick cock. he can’t help but throw his head back as endless streams of moans leave his pretty mouth, lips biting them raw as you slow your pace down. you grind your hips down fully, ass flushed against his thighs so you can feel every inch rubbing inside. he grips onto your waist for mercy, lashes fluttering up at you w those pretty eyes as he begs you to let him cum.

“s’good, need it. feel s’good, hah, please go faster baby.” he croaks out shakily, eyes rolling back as he ruts his hips up fucking his wet cock back into your tight pussy. your fingers trail down to your clit, rubbing it frantically as you tighten up again. you resume your fast pace again, babbling praises of him being such a good boy but all he’s focusing on is his hips meeting halfway up as you bounce down, the wet sounds shamelessly filling the empty studio room. ohyul could sense you were close as your thighs trembled on top of him, each thrust punching a small sob out of you. he was so close too and you both cry out, ohyul filling your wet cunt w his sticky cum. he threw his head back with a long drawn out moan, glasses now askew on his fucked out face. you collapsed forward onto his chest, panting softly to catch your breath but he’s already half hard again, lazily fucking his cum back into your creamy cunt to make more of a mess.

you sighed softly, still half asleep as your hips shifted without thinking. your ass now flushed against him as he stirs behind you. ohyul lazily traces his fingers down your stomach, pressing his soft lips against your shoulder. he hummed, voice rough from sleep. his grip tightens on you as his thick cock was already filling up in his boxers as it presses into the curve of your ass.

“baby..” he murmurs, shuffling impossibly closer to you as the duvet crackles in the quiet room. soft breaths hitched in your throats as you grind back against him sneakily, fingers tugging at the waistband of his boxers to pull them down.

“need you..” you whisper, his hips lifting up just enough so you can pull his boxers down. his cock springs free, thick and warm as it slaps up against your ass. ohyul nuzzled into your hair, his hands wandering downwards until his fingers dip into your now wet panties. you gasp as he begins running his fingers along your slick folds and rubs slow circles over your clit. his mouth busy pressing kisses on the side of your head, taking his sweet time as there’s no rush in this sweet morning.

your whimpers for more has ohyul shushing you gently, “ok baby, i got you.” he whispers, finally tugging down your underwear just enough for his cock to slide through. his arm tightens around you as he guides the tip to your slick entrance. he nudges there, sliding his cock in between your sticky folds teasingly before finally pushing himself into your warm wet heat. both of you let out a low moan, ohyul sinking inside inch by inch, stretching you out slowly until he’s fully seated inside you, hips flush against your ass.

“god, yn. feel so good.” his breath shudders against your neck, not thrusting just yet, wanting to savour the feeling of your gummy walls squeezing around his fat cock so good. the feeling of him filling you up so well has you sighing in satisfaction, your hand reaching back to tug at his hair.

“love you so much yn.” he whispers to you, slowly rocking his hips back and forth shallowly. “love you too, ohyul.” you replied softly, pushing back into him. the quiet bedroom starts to fill with wet sounds and the soft crackles of the duvet shifting around you both. your breathing becomes heavier, soft gasps and moans leaving your pretty lips as ohyul fucks into you deeper. he kisses along your neck and shoulders, his hands reaching up to squeeze your soft tits. you gasp at the sensation, arching into him for more.

he gently rolls you onto your back still fully inside you. the mattress dips as he settles over you. you eyes adjusted in the dim morning light, just about making out the broad outline of his shoulders and the way his bed hair falls in front of his eyes. ohyul’s mouth find yours in a sleepy kiss. tongues slide together lazily, no urgency between you both, just the comforting warmth and closeness.

he rocks into you deeper, gasping softly into his mouth. your hands roam over his back, nails digging in lightly into his warm skin. ohyul braces himself over you, his hips grinding into you in slow steady strokes that drags against your gummy walls so good every time. he lowers his mouth to your collarbone, sucking and biting the skin there and then back to your lips. one hand drifts down between your bodies to circle your clit again, thumb pressing down firmer making you moan and throw your head back, your pussy clenching tighter around him now.

“that’s it baby,” he murmurs against your lips. “come on.” you cling onto him tighter, your orgasm creeping approaching faster. ohyul slides his other hand up towards yours to intertwine them, letting you clasp tightly onto him. breathy moans becoming louder as you pull him down closer, burying your face into his neck as you tremble around him. your orgasm spilling out as your walls clamp around him even tighter, moaning his name quietly as he groans too right by your ear. his hips stuttering as he buries himself fully inside you, his cock pulsing as he cums deep inside, filling you with his warmth. his forehead drops to yours, soft pants mingling together as he rides out his orgasm.

you both don't move for a while. your soft sleepy giggles filling the room as he shakes his head, smiling softly. ohyul stays inside you, his cock softening but doesn't wanna pull out just yet. eventually he shifts onto his side, not wanting to crush you underneath him. you tried to sit up to leave but he pulls you to his chest again, back to where you started. “stay. don’t get up yet.” he whispers into your hair, his fingers tracing idle patterns along the sides of your arms. you sigh softly and snuggle back against him quiet already half asleep again. his lips press a soft kiss against your cheek and whispers a “go back to sleep.” and wrapped up in his warmth, you do ♡

౨ৎ ˖ 満行亜丸 — ❪ MITSUYUKI AMARU ❫  

he just screams childhood friends to lovers. meaning, both of you would be pretty used to physical touch with each other. so if he wants to show his non-platonic affection for you, i definitely see a gentlemanly kiss to the back of your hand, right by the knuckles. 

౨ৎ ˖ 이동화 — ❪ LEE DONGHWA ❫  

this pretty mf. he cuts straight to the important things. and to him, your lips on his is pretty much the only thing he cares about. and he’s so giggly about it too, like you could have been together for months and he would still blush like it’s no one’s business after giving you soft, little pecks.

౨ৎ ˖ 장주왕 — ❪ JANG JUWANG ❫  

he is Tall tall okay? super specific, but the height alone convinces me he’s the type to be into pressing featherlight kisses against your forehead — your temple even, — to spice things up once in a while. likes it because he thinks of it as a comforting gesture (which it so would be!)

౨ৎ ˖ 최민제 — ❪ CHOI MINJE ❫  

this is 99% my bias towards him speaking but anyways. him and neck kisses!! he’d mostly just like them because they’re a good way to get you flustered >< again, specific, but lwk he would enjoy trailing little kisses from your jaw to the base of your neck for sure.

౨ৎ ˖ 岡本圭樹 — ❪ OKAMOTO KEIJU ❫  

peppering kisses across your features is so, so keiju coded. blame it on his playful nature, definitely. i see him doing it specially when he wants to distract you. like, say, you're on a date and he wants you to spend more time with him, but what's that? you have to leave soon? cue heavy onslaught of kisses no you don't actually. trust him, really.

౨ৎ ˖ 이동현 — ❪ LEE DONGHYEON ❫  

cheek kisses. i will die on this hill. would be cute in either a platonic or a romantic honestly, but just the idea of the innocence and fluffiness that comes with these are so shjsjhdhj. ><

𐙚 . regulars : none yet! ⋆

౨ৎ ˖ 満行亜丸 — ❪ MITSUYUKI AMARU ❫  

being a little specific here, but seeing childhood best friend amaru (i'm never Getting over this trope sue me), who you have kinda lost contact with, come in to the convenience store you work at. it's bound to be a little awkward, you haven't spoken in ages, after all. but after he keeps coming to the store, specifically during early hours (think 4 AM) almost exclusively during your shifts only, you end up (amusedly) striking a conversation ><

౨ৎ ˖ 이동화 — ❪ LEE DONGHWA ❫  

being at a thrift store and reaching for the same item. could be a cute hoodie, piece of jewelry, cool shoes — you'd maybe be a little annoyed at first but when you guys would get to talking, you'd find out both your tastes are actually pretty similar? plus his sense of style is kinda fire if you're being honest... you'd end up spending the whole day shopping together (probably even get a bite to eat ><), with plans already made to meet up again soon 🫣🫣

౨ৎ ˖ 장주왕 — ❪ JANG JUWANG ❫  

i'm such a sucker for strangers to lovers. pretty boy juwang who you see during your commute almost everyday and who naturally has your attention drawn towards himself with practically no effort. however, the most you do is exchange glances or smiles, occasionally. until one time you both happen to be the only two people stranded on the bus/metro/train and can't help but start talking because the vehicle hasn't moved for almost two whole hours now and you're bored...

౨ৎ ˖ 최민제 — ❪ CHOI MINJE ❫  

basketball team captain minje who's known for being just the absolute epitome of perfection. he's nice to everyone, great at sports and number 1 in his grade for all subjects. it's a little intimidating, making him to hard to approach, even. but one day, you chance upon the school roof with its usually locked door slightly ajar. curiosity finds you venturing outside .. only to come face to face with minje. minje, with his collar unbuttoned, tie loose, hair messy due to the breeze (and an adorably shocked expression). and suddenly, you've become the one person he's comfortable showing his other, not-as-perfect side to .. <3

౨ৎ ˖ 岡本圭樹 — ❪ OKAMOTO KEIJU ❫  

gamer keiju gamer keiju!! you're both avid fans of the same video game and have a vague sense of competitiveness between each other which is only fueled when you end up playing together (via means of mutual friends). there's definitely tension brewing, considering he most definitely considers you his rival, but eventually cue him having to eat up all his words and ask you for help because of this one boss fight he just can't seem to win :/

౨ৎ ˖ 이동현 — ❪ LEE DONGHYEON ❫  

DUDE OKAY. him in his hockey era right? you, being nothing if not a diligent student with a shit ton of school spirit, go to show your support to the school team during one of their home matches... only for donghyeon, the star player, to end up bumping into you right before and spilling his water all over your clothes... he ends up having to give you his jersey to wear and, yes, everyone does think you're dating. lowkey, neither of you really deny anything and before you even know it, you've been crowned the it couple of the school. huh?

𐙚 . regulars : none yet! ⋆

“could you hand me that pen?” 

you didnt even realize you were zoning out; it was just so boring. as a teaching assistant, you’d already taken this introductory seminar and several like it. and the classrooms were all the same, set up auditorium-style with mounted desks on risers that went so far back that you couldn’t even tell if the students were awake or not. nine times out of ten, they were not. it felt like the backrooms, an endless stretch of repeating white brick and gray carpet. add on the bright white flash of the projector casting the bottom left corner of the screen directly into your eyes and there you had it: a recipe for zoning the fuck out for three hours. 

but when you looked up, professor byun had his hand outstretched to you, a patient smile etched onto his face. that’s really all it took to snap you back into yourself. the pen seemed to turn to liquid as you grabbed for it, fumbling over your own fingers. silence settled over the lecture hall like fog, the shrill scraping of the pen’s plastic casing on your wooden desk the only sound louder than your heartbeat climbing to your ears. you handed it to him, finally, mouthing sorry as he plucked it from your fingertips. it was quite literally your only job to hand him pens or paper or whatever he might need while he was teaching. that was the job description, but you’d had the longest week of your life, and professor byun’s 8 am literary studies seminar was the tired, dreary cherry on top. 

one thing you could always appreciate about your supervisor, or mentor as he so graciously asked you to call him, was his grace. he was incredibly young, only a few years older than you, so he still knew how draining it was to be in your position. you’d applied to graduate school with the hopes of being in professor byun’s exact same position one day, droning on and on about your favorite subject matter and forcing forty-ish people to listen, or at least pretend to listen, to you ramble for three hours twice a week. so, he was very open to taking you under his wing as his teaching assistant at the beginning of the semester. you didn’t account for how distracting it would be from your studies, though, to work alongside a hot literature nerd. 

byun euijoo was a sight for sore, tired eyes. he loomed over almost everyone, shoulders broad and accentuated most days by a padded blazer. he wore thin framed glasses on the slope of his nose, the tops of which were covered, usually, by a wisped veil of brown hair, ends curling and flipping up at the base of his neck. everything about him was good; his face was sweet and soft, especially when he would smile, accentuating the supple curve of his cheeks. not to mention the warmth of his eyes, round and inviting. yet, it was so difficult to maintain eye contact with him for too long, his gaze too expectant, too hopeful. it made you sick. even when he grabbed the pen from you under the judgemental stares of his students, his stare was forgiving. dont sweat it, he scrunched his eyes in a subtle smile, brows furrowed, understanding. 

the lecture wrapped up after what felt like days. the past two weeks had been dedicated to different literary critics, which was simply old news to you. there was no harm in a refresher course in post-structuralism, but, unfortunately, not even byun euijoo could have made that class interesting. you had already been grappling with your own instability. and apparently it was evident. 

“are you doing alright?” professor byun asked as the last of the students filed out of the lecture hall. their conversations buzzed until the chatter fizzled out into a dull silence. you had started shoving your own belongings into your bag, noticing the pen you handed him earlier roll across the table, gradually slowing to a halt as he added, “you seemed a bit out of it today.” 

even as he leaned, casually, against the desk, you felt like the room was closing in on you. he had traded his blazer for a light, knit cardigan that draped over his shoulders, held closed by two buttons in the center. he looked effortlessly casual, stark next to your half-assed attempts at professional attire. everyday was a struggle to look twenty something, having had too many students call you “ma’am” when you handed them their graded papers back. somehow only byun euijoo, highly regarded literature professor, could wear jeans and a cardigan and still look like the most respected person in the room. 

“oh, yeah. sorry,” you slipped your bag onto your shoulder, using the heaving motion to put some space between the two of you. it was rare that he lingered post-lecture, usually running off to another class or do whatever in his office from noon to dusk. you’d never seen office hours run an entire afternoon, but apparently that’s what happened when people cared about your opinion and actually wanted to meet with you; you just had to sit in your office for an entire day. no wonder he was sticking around today. “i’m just tired. i’m pretty sure my roommate is conducting unauthorized sleep studies on me for a project.”

like in a dream, he raised both eyebrows at your theory, lips pressing into a thin smile. you didn’t need to tell him all of that, but he seemed to appreciate the honesty. he nodded, “yeah, that,” he laughed, “that sounds less than ideal.”

“but it’s due soon,” you quickly added, “so i should be back in action later this week. up and at ‘em. ready to, you know, hand you the pen and stuff.” if there were ever a perfect time to stop talking, it would have been thirty-five seconds ago. it actually would have been several minutes ago, immediately following his simple and polite, “yes” or “no” question. there was no version of that conversation that ended with embarrassment. i’m just stressed, you should have said, thanks. because what graduate student wasn’t stressed? 

professor byun nodded, the motion tousling his hair over his forehead. “well, good,” he feigned a serious, stern expression, “i need my pen.” you could’t help but smile, just a tad, as he was so damn charismatic. he pushed himself off the table in a swift, smooth motion and held his hand up, hesitating for a moment like he was going to clap you on the shoulder. a reassuring gesture, surely, but instead of following through, he flipped his arm over, checking his watch. he pushed his glasses up on his nose, scrunching it awkwardly. “let me know if i can do anything for you, okay? i mean it.”

“sure,” you gave him a small smile as he slipped through the gap between you and the whiteboard behind you. his cologne wafted over you in a swift gust, sweet and warm. “thank you, professor byun.” 

he suddenly stopped in his path to the door, broad shoulders slumping. he reminded you, urged you, “i told you not to call me that. call me euijoo, please.” 

euijoo. the name was sweet, like him. or at least the version of him you made up; the one that sipped his coffee at the boiling point in a graphic t-shirt every morning; the one that preferred cats despite wanting a dog, a big one with scary, human-like eyes; the one that practiced eye contact in the mirror while he brushed his teeth because no one was naturally that attentive. sure, you could call him that. you could call him by his name, informally, no problem. you were essentially equals; he was only a few years older than you, but it always felt kind of weird to refer to him as professor, especially since he wasn’t even your professor. you always erred on the side of caution, though, careful not to offend or insult him. 

“oh, one more thing!” before you could confirm or deny his request, he spoke again, this time raking a hand down the side of his hair, smoothing it awkardly, “could you get those exams from last week graded?” 

“sure thing,” no, i have a life, “I’ve already started them,” i havent touched them, “I’ll drop them off later during your office hours, if that’s okay?” im going to disappear and then youll never know that half your students dont know the difference between feminist and queer theory. 

“yeah,” euijoo breathed, unsure. he adjusted his glasses again, glancing at his watch before nodding, “yeah, that should be fine. i’ll be in a meeting until 2, but you can stop by any time after that.” 

almost too eagerly, you agreed, “you got it!” 

and as euijoo left the lecture hall, you realized just how much shit you had to do. you wiped down the whiteboard, which euijoo never did before he ended class, simply content with leaving his little notes and concept headings scribbled for the next professor to deal with. but you had some respect for other people’s time. you logged him out of the room’s computer, turning off the projector in the process, and shut all the lights down before leaving the lecture hall yourself. the stack of fifty-something ungraded exams pulled you down, a weight on your shoulder and your mind.

“hi, professor byun. im having some problems understanding the material for the upcoming exam. what’s the main difference between derrida and barthes’ concepts of post structuralism?” 

your sandwich remained neglected in its plastic container next to you, accompanied only by the fountain drink you’d treated yourself to. condensation trickled down the cup in steady rivulets and pooled around the base in a ring. when you picked it up to take a sip, water dribbled across your laptop's keyboard. you wiped it clean with your shirt sleeve as you finished reading the email from one of the students in the literary seminar. you asked, “what do i even say to this? read the textbook, review the slides, make it up? you can basically just make it up.” 

“yeah, i dont know what the fuck any of that means,” yuma took an obnoxious bite of his lunch, doing absolutely nothing to console you in your stressed state, which, according to what you told euijoo, was completely his fault. he agreed to meet you for lunch, even offering to pay for your sandwich, under the condition that you would look over his lab report- the sleep study. “sounds like something i’d ask if i were really distracted during class and wanted some extra help.” 

yuma punctuated his statement with a concerning number of eyebrow raises, his tongue poking out from a mischievous grin. you rolled your eyes, “funny.” you should have known better than to ask yuma any kind of serious question. you’d been friends with him long enough to know that he would explode if he missed the opportunity to turn a pressing situation into a punchline for a dirty joke. and you had lived with him long enough to know that his flirty personality worked very well for him. but you couldn’t entertain his shenanigans. not today. “what’s worse is i dont even think he covered that this week. is that even supposed to be on the exam?” 

the campus dining hall was starting to get crowded, undergraduate students getting out of their noon classes and coming straight to fuel their brains. everything that wasnt fast food was grotesquely overpriced, so you were thankful for yuma’s wallet. you dreaded having to look over his paper, though, the title page mocking you atop the stack of exams you had yet to grade. it was as though it had eyes, staring right through you. the last thing you needed was to know what your body did while you were sleeping. that was, quite frankly, none of your business. in hindsight, it wasn’t yuma’s either. you hated the idea of him standing at the foot of your bed with a clipboard throughout the night, marking when you snored, taking your pulse with two clammy fingers, and shining his phone flashlight in your eyes. research is research. 

“do you think he knows he’s hot?” yuma asked, pushing the last of his lunch around in the bottom of his cardboard to-go box. you had tried for many years to learn the way yuma’s brain worked, but it became clear very quickly that there would never be any way to predict what he would say next. he was genuinely curious, and, honestly, so were you. you thought back to that morning, the frantic apologies he muttered every time the computer buffered and took longer than anticipated to load whatever he was projecting onto the board. he was a little bit late, and none of the students even looked up from their phones when he walked through the door- only you did that. 

“definitely not,” you closed your laptop, having sent a reply to the student’s email that just said, in typical, effortless byun euijoo fashion, please refer to the class notes. you shoved the device into your bag and scooted the stack of papers toward you. “hes got, like, clark kent vibes, and clark was famously not hot. it was his whole thing.” 

only clark kent, much like euijoo, was hot; he was just awkward, hunching over and diminishing himself to blend in. you wondered if euijoo was doing that, too, if euijoo was hiding something, like a superpower. or a secret. 

“you just have a thing for cardigans. a hot nerd in a cardigan is gonna do it for you every time,” yuma shrugged before reaching his hands across the table, gently taking your hand between his, “its sick. you need to talk to someone, seriously.” you pulled your hand away and swatted at him, narrowing your eyes. yuma put his hands up, palms out defensively, “i’m just saying, damn.” 

“i can’t even joke with you right now, yuma,” you pressed your fingers to your temples, blocking him out in every possible way as you squeezed your eyes closed, “i have so much to do.” 

yuma flipped through the corner of the stack of papers, as if he were counting all fifty of them. he raised his brows, whistling for effect, “yeah, dr. murata just makes me click the slides for him and grab his shit from the printer.” 

like you, yuma was a teaching assistant, only his supervising faculty member for the psychology program’s introductory seminar was more experienced, less hands on with his mentoring. in some ways, you were grateful that euijoo was giving you some genuine experience with planning and grading rather than just leading discussions. yuma wasn’t getting any of that. in fact, it seemed as though your dynamic with euijoo was similar to yuma’s with dr. murata, only inverted. you constructed the lesson plans, graded the exams, took attendance, handed out supplemental lecture materials, recorded discussion participation, and answered all of the emails about the class, all while professor byun stood in all his professional glory behind the computer and clicked away. slide 1, slide 2, could you hand me that pen?

but, it was fine; you signed up for this, for running errands and buying him water from the vending machine and grabbing his shit from the printer. it would make you a better educator in the future, surely. 

you had just flipped open yuma’s draft and began glancing over the introductory section when yuma reached back over the table and snatched it from the top of the stack. “don’t waste your time with this,” he sighed, giving you a pitiful look, “i wrote it, so its gotta be good. this,” yuma motioned to you, just in general, blinking rapidly, “this is bad.” 

“well, thanks,” you furrowed your eyebrows, glancing at him once, then twice, just to see if he would backtrack at all. as expected, he did not. instead, he shrugged his bag onto his shoulders, crumbling his napkin from lunch up in his fist and stuffing it into his pocket. yuma kissed his fingertips and cast the gesture toward you- a blessing. 

“see you at home,” he shouted over his shoulder as he left the dining hall, as he left you with euijoo’s papers and euijoo’s emails and your uneaten sandwich and your very, very wet cup of soda. 

it took you all of three hours to finish grading the stack of exams, complete with marginal feedback and brief comments on the essay questions at the end of each test. you were already exhausted, but the repetitive marking and circling and scribbling nice! next to every half-assed analysis sucked the rest of your energy out of you through a short straw. you had wanted to drop the stack off in euijoo’s office, just as he asked, and go straight home. maybe yuma would have started cooking something, and maybe he would have even saved you a plate knowing how miserable you were earlier. maybe. but none of that mattered when euijoo asked you, “did you bring the lesson plans for next unit?”

you stood, confused, in the middle of his office. you’d been in there a dozen times, always observant of which books were missing from his shelves, which books were strewn about on his desk and stuffed full of sticky notes and highlighter ink. you wondered how he could even see in the dim lighting, the only source the small table lamp on his desk. he was a collector of things, memories, like the stack of receipts he would use as bookmarks. 

you furrowed your eyebrows, reaching into your bag aimlessly, “sorry, i don’t remember you asking for those yet.” 

“hm, i must have forgot,” euijoo leaned back in his chair, one of those really nice, vintage leather ones. he crossed his arms over his chest, the fabric of his cardigan pulling taut against his forearms, riding up to reveal the delicate skin of his wrist. you thought about what yuma had said. you really did have a problem. he worked his lips into a fine line, thinking as he studied the obvious hesitance on your face. he sat up straight, clearing off a space on his desk in front of him, “you know what? don’t even worry about it.” 

“are you sure?” you blinked back your surprise. the smile he gave you was laced with something, you were sure of it. euijoo shrugged it off, as if doing his work that he was paid to do was somehow a favor to you. it felt like it, though. it also felt like a test, like a trial you were supposed to overcome.  

“positive,” he asserted, said as if there were no other obvious option, “you should go home and get some sleep, yeah?” 

yeah, you should have done that. you should have agreed with a nod, turned heel, and went directly home. but there was something about him that kept pulling you in against all rationale, against all reasoning. you noticed that his eyes dragged a little too far down your face when you spoke, tracing your lips. sometimes his gaze kept going, falling down your neck and further. you chocked it up as being a product of yuma’s delusions; you were imagining things because yuma kept giving you things to imagine. he’s testing your boundaries, yuma had mentioned, its his way of seeing how far you’ll let him go. and in some ways, that made sense. euijoo just kept adding extra duties to your workload. how far would he take it? how far would you let him? 

evidently, the limit did not exist. because you went straight from his office, where he looked you up and down and gave you the evening off, to the library, where you opened up a template and began constructing the lesson plans for next unit that he didnt ask you to do but pretty much wanted you to do. and you were nothing if not a people pleaser, an overachiever, and an ass kisser.  and you were kissing his ass big time. you had curled up in the corner of the library for an additional two hours, racing the sunlight so as to not be traipsing around on campus after dark but to no avail. the streetlamps on the sidewalk corners stirred to life as soon as you collected the lesson plans from the library printer, peering in at you through the windows. they were taunting you, mocking your attempt to earn brownie points with euijoo. all for what? a letter of recommendation? was he even qualified to write those? 

the walk back to his office was the same as before, just with slightly more dread involved and less daylight to reveal the jagged cracks and dips in the sidewalk. the staircase was just as humid. the hallway that housed the faculty offices was dim, too. the department professors and staff had already packed up and went home for the evening. like you should have. their doors were closed, little personalized signs and posters and corkboards adorning them. as you shuffled down the tight tunnel of a hall, you noticed that euijoo’s door was now closed, when earlier it had been propped wide open to reveal his somewhat messy but nonetheless impressively organized bookshelves and desk. the papers grew heavy in your hands, the ink no doubt smearing under the pads of your clammy fingers, as you stopped in front of his office door. 

byun euijoo, the little black plaque stared back at you, assistant professor. and beneath it, scrawled on a notecard and taped haphazardly to the dark oak: please knock!  

it was worth a try; if he wasn’t in, you’d simply bring everything with you to his class next week, or you’d try again tomorrow. embarrassment flooded your cheeks at the idea of knocking on a door to an empty room. you couldnt decide if you wanted him to be in there or not, if it would be less humiliating to present the lesson plans a few days later rather than a few hours. the latter screamed, hey, im desperate for your approval and i think youre weirdly hot! maybe not the second part, but certainly the first. perhaps he would find it endearing that you dedicated your entire thursday to doing his job for him. wait, was byun euijoo an asshole? 

surely, not, right? 

there was only one way to find out, to really know what boundaries he had silently set for your workload. there was only one way to know if he would appreciate your hard work or think you were a freak, or a loser, or just desperate. or some pathetic combination of all three, which was honestly the most likely option. regardless, you lifted your hand, tucking your thumb into your fist for maximum knocking efficiency. the plan was three solid raps, loud enough for him to hear but not loud enough to disturb anyone who might still be lingering, but your knuckles never made it to the door, frozen in mid air and still balled up. you heard something on the other side. and you tried not to make a habit of eavesdropping, but sometimes the situation called for it.

this was one of those situations, and “eavesdropping” is a generous term, for what you were doing was not eavesdropping but merely standing on the other side of a closed door, acutely aware of your surroundings and attentive to every movement and sound around you, including the noises seeping from beneath euijoo’s office door: a hiss through closed teeth, an uneven rustling of cloth, the fervent but faint creaking of a desk chair- it sounded like he had knocked over a cup of fresh, hot coffee, the liquid searing into his skin.  

“fuck,” he dragged, barely under his breath, voice low but not low enough. either the coffee was really hot, or you were hearing something you were never meant to, something private, something you had shamefully imagined a few times when your mind would wander while he lectured. you’d watched his slender fingers coil around the whiteboard markers, scrawling who-knows-what in unreadable handwriting, tendons flexing, wrist stiff. now, you could hear the slick, ceaseless movement of his hand, coiled around his cock instead. 

your face grew hot, blood pumping from your racing heart. you hated the way your mouth watered, how your neck angled your head just enough to press your ear closer to the door. you were close enough to hear the stifled moans that lodged behind his lips, escaping only in sighs and grunts, as if he were clearing his throat. it could have sounded ordinary if not for the occasional hum or hiss, the kind only someone drunk on their own pleasure would let slip. you imagined him, head thrown back and resting on the leather of his chair, his throat working as he gulped down his whines and curses like a steady trickle of water. you imagined him, chest rising and rarely falling in the dim light of the room as his hand dragged the length of his cock in desperate strokes, until he couldnt take it anymore. his breathing grew faster, and your clammy hands grew weaker, and you should have known this would happen to you. 

you should have known the paper on the bottom of the stack of lesson plans you were holding would slip right out of your hands and sweep, incriminatingly, through the inch of space between the vintage flooring and the door to his office, which was closed for a reason. there was no denying yourself, now. so, you knocked, rapidly and perhaps too eagerly to compensate for the cold sweep of dread that mixed with the hot pool of shame in your gut, like the start of a summer storm. shit, shit, shit, the voice in your head chanted while every part of your body burned, trembling as you heard him scramble on the other side of the door. 

there was a stillness followed by a choked, startled noise. he cleared his throat, for real this time, and shouted, “coming! er- i mean. one second!” there was a breathless quality to his voice that, unfortunately for you, made your thighs clench and your face heat up. you should have just turned and left, and you probably would have if not for the incriminating paper on the other side of the door. he would have known that you were there, and leaving would only be more suspicious. at least now you could defend yourself. no, professor byun. i wasn’t eavesdropping on you beating your shit crazy style. i would never, ever, ever even consider doing that. but as you heard the buckling of a belt, the shifting of his chair, and the deep, recovering sigh, it was nearly explicit what you had been doing. 

the door swung open, the gust rustling the paper on the floor behind him and blowing loose pieces of his hair, no longer carefully arranged to look naturally messy but genuinely messy. he had abandoned his cardigan, leaving only a faintly wrinkled white tee clinging to his shoulders. his face and neck were flushed dark pink, veins pulsing on the side of his throat. euijoo gulped when he saw you standing there, clutching the paper close to your chest. you knew you looked guilty; you could tell by the way his ears stayed red as he asked you, “what… what are you doing here?” 

“lesson plans,” you held them out, arms straight, “i went ahead and did them and, uh, thought i’d drop them off.” 

“oh,” euijoo wiped his hands on the front of his pants, quickly and inconspicuously, before taking the stack from you and holding them comfortably in one hand, “i thought i said i would do them, hm?” euijoo feathered through the papers, looking over them, inspecting them. 

no, you wanted to say, you said ‘dont worry about it,’ meaning i’d be doing them next week anyway. but instead, you feigned an innocent confusion, quirking an eyebrow all the way to the ceiling, “did you? i guess i misheard you. plus, i had the time! it was no trouble at all.” your smile was sweet, convincing. 

but euijoo’s wasn’t either of those things. in fact, it was barely a smile, bordering on a smirk, one that said he knew everything. he held your gaze for a beat too long, maybe to gauge you, to see if you were really standing there long enough to hear or know anything. but he knew you weren’t stupid. his tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth before darting across his bottom lip, still bitten and glistening form having it tucked between his teeth while he-

“well, then, uh,” he sucked his teeth, still breathless, raising the stack of papers and meeting your eyes one final time, “thanks. i appreciate it.” 

“how horny do you have to be to jack off in an office?” 

yuma had completely ignored everything else you told him, including that the last three weeks had been absolute hell for you. after your encounter, euijoo piled the tasks on without remorse. suddenly, there were more papers, midterm tests turned into midterm papers, and more quizzes were being given in class, seemingly for the sole purpose that you would need to grade them. and euijoo grew cold, toward everyone but especially you. it was as though all of his charm had sloughed off overnight, like he had molted and evolved into some brooding asshole with a pen behind his ear. 

“that’s what stuck? not the unbearable stress i’m under? or my misery?” you prodded his side on the couch, the show he was watching dissolving into static background noise at the sudden dump of gossip you provided, “yuma, think about my misery.” 

“you’ve been in misery this whole time,” yuma rolled his eyes, muttering, “only difference is that it’s at least interesting now.” 

“interesting for you,” you covered your face with your hands, sighing deeply. “horrible for me. he won’t even look at me, and i didn’t even do anything.” 

the class was the definition of tense following the incident. your lesson plans were thorough, yes, but they were not nearly as packed with papers and assignments and groupwork as euijoo was enacting. you felt bad for the students, mostly, that your eager-to-please nature had tripled their final courseload. but then you felt bad for euijoo, and yuma scolded you for that. he said, “he’s a grown man. frankly, he needs to just get over it.” but you knew what it felt like to be embarrassed. granted, you dealt with it a little differently, with a conversation or just ignoring it completely. euijoo was confronting you with his embarrassment every single day, sliding stacks of ungraded papers across your table toward you at the end of class and leaving without a word. you’d been grading them at home and just bringing them to class to avoid another encounter in his office. even during office hours, you felt like it would only bring up ill feelings. or other feelings.

“here’s what i think,” yuma stood up from the couch beside you, ignoring your displeased grunt as you slumped over into the warmth of his empty cushion. he clapped his hands together in a righteous, all-knowing fashion, as if he had stepped into the shoes of a scholar. one who studies unfortunate tension between awkward individuals and inappropriate work relationships. he announced, “i think professor big-dick has the hots for his TA, and i mean you if thats not clear. and i think he has poor emotional processing skills and a very high sex drive. and no, that’s not a headcanon or personal fantasy- just the truth. and i think the combination of all of those things has left him very confused and, if i might assign vulnerability to a male figure of authority, scared.” 

you knew yuma had a wild imagination, but this was beyond your expectations for whatever he was about to tell you. the inside of your mouth was bone dry from how long you jaw had been flat on the floor. you couldn’t believe what he was implying. yet, you fiddled with the hem of your shirt like you knew there was some truth to it. “no,” you shook your head, rubbing your eyes, “don’t suggest it’s my fault somehow that he’s fucking my entire life over.” 

“not your fault, babe,” yuma flicked his hair from his face with his fingertips, “you’re hot and smart. and now he knows you’re a sick little voyeur-” 

“yuma!” you threw a pillow at him, and he didnt even budge when it smacked into his chest, still standing in an overconfident pose, “you would’ve done the same thing!” 

“yeah,” he shrugged, “only he wasn’t thinking about me, idiot. i’d just be a creep.” 

you couldnt help but feel as though you’d crossed a line somehow, albeit accidentally. but crossed nonetheless. it seemed as though you’d never be able to go back to the lighthearted, supportive, non-complicated relationship you’d had with euijoo only three weeks prior. he’d checked in on you then, at least, begged for informalities. now, he expected your complete surrender to his every wish without a second thought for your own studies beyond your duties as his assistant. you had papers to write rather than grade. you had your own exams to study for, but you were too focused on making study guides for the final exam in euijoo’s class to even worry about how much of your own degree was being swept under the rug. 

so, you kept what yuma said in the back of your mind: confused and scared.

the next time you saw him, it was a tuesday. there were only a few classes left until finals week. and until your mentorship with euijoo would expire, hopefully with a letter of recommendation to show for it. if you were lucky, you’d remain amicable and disregard all the unnecessary tension he’d created and you’d tried desperately to dissolve. it wasn’t explicitly sexual, but yuma was so sure that you began to suspect it, too. 

euijoo was still charming, you’d noticed, even when he was clearly stressed out. there was something extra alluring about the throbbing vein in his neck, the way his glasses slid down his nose as he buried his face in his computer at the front podium. this class period was a dedicated work day for the students to finalize their presentation scripts and slides, so you and euijoo were basically useless, lingering silently mere feet from each other for three hours. his shoulders hunched over as he typed away, the faint click of his keyboard breaking through the soft chatter of the class. it was all you could hear, the mechanical tapping only muted by the sound of your heartbeat in your ears. 

and when the class was over, you weren’t as prompt leaving as you had been for the last month. usually, you had your laptop stuffed into your bag before the first student left the room, ready to bolt. but today, you stuck around a moment too long, and euijoo was already standing next to you when you closed your laptop. you could feel his eyes on the top of your head, tracing the side of your face. you’d be lying if you said your heart didn’t stutter in your chest. instead of looking up at him, instead of meeting his eyes in this perfectly planned display of power, you stood up from your chair and met his gaze that way. he was taller than you, so you weren’t eye-level with him, but it felt like enough to tilt your chin up and roll your shoulders back. euijoo tilted his head at your boldness, his tongue prodding the inside of his cheek, like he was neutralizing a smirk. you narrowed your eyes into his, fighting the pull to get completely lost in them. his glasses made you think of an aquarium, his eyes swirling like tepid water. there was a part of you that wanted to tap on the glass, like a kid, if only to see if he would flinch like a fish or push back, like a wave. 

you got your answer. euijoo broke eye contact with you to reach into his bag and pull out a stack of papers. he gently placed them on the table between you and, with four fingers flat on the top, slid the stack as close to you as he could, closing the distance between you with one confident stride. you softly gasped, and you hoped he didnt hear. 

“thursday,” euijoo said as he leaned down, just enough to make sure you could hear him. his breath tickled the cusp of your ear and, then, he left, adjusting his bag on his shoulder. you stood there, frozen. there was an unfamiliar feeling in your chest, one that tasted like lust but hit like anger. 

your feet were moving before you could think about what to do next, dragging you out of the empty seminar room, down the hall, and into the faculty office corridor. you scanned the names on the doors like you didnt know exactly where you were going. and when you got there, he was peacefully sat at his desk, book spread open before him and a pen in hand. you marched right through his door, propped open with a rubber wedge, which you swiftly kicked out of the way to let the door close behind you. 

as you charged into the room, euijoo dog-eared his page, sighing like you had inconvenienced him, “i have a meeting in-”

“no, you fucking don’t,” you countered, punctuating your statement with the stack of papers, slamming the stack on the corner of his desk unoccupied by whatever hipster shit he decided to display that week, “and i’d know because i’d have to put it in your google calendar.” 

“you’re upset,” euijoo raised his eyebrows as he observed your behavior, like a scientist and his test subject. it felt like he was studying you, even now, and, honestly, you were kind of sick of being the center of so many experiments without your permission. 

“yeah,” you smiled, half in disbelief and half just to keep yourself together, “yeah, i’m upset.”

“would you like a break this week?” he asked, like it was the most obvious question in the world. he closed his book, tucking it away somewhere off to the side of his desk. “it’s almost finals, so i understand if you don’t feel like working.” 

“that-” you stopped, taking a deep breath. if byun euijoo had one thing, it was the nerve. it was the confidence to say whatever he wanted without repercussion. you wondered, between flashes of red, how long he had been like this and you had been too naive, too distracted by his cute-ass cardigans and fluffy hair to notice just how much of a dickhead he was. you thought back to The Day, before you stumbled into the most awkward situation of your life, even before you got lunch with yuma. you thought back to the class, when he had asked you if you were alright. he couldn’t even reach one foot in front of him to grab a pen from the table, only asking you if you were alright because you failed to obey him immediately. was that all you were good for? “that is so gracious of you, euijoo, really. because i’ve been working so, so much for the last month. i’d even go so far to say ive been doing nothing but working. wouldnt you?” 

“you’ve been very helpful, if that’s what you mean,” he crossed his arms over his chest, “but i can see how i might have… overloaded you.” 

“yeah, if by ‘overloaded’ you mean i’ve been doing your fucking job for you,” your voice was coming out harsher by the second, but there was no guarantee you’d be able to get this off your chest again with the way he’d been avoiding you.

“i wouldn’t say that.”

“i would,” you bit back, “im grading all the papers, making the lesson plans, answering all your fucking emails.” you reached a shaking hand out to count your tasks on bent fingers. “i’m putting tests together, scheduling your meetings, compiling study guides. i’m pulling all nighters so often, i don’t even know what day it is until i look at your emails and see students asking about ‘class tomorrow.’ none of this is going to fucking matter if i fail out of all my classes because you cant spare an hour to grade your own shitty assignments. i’m doing everything, and what are you doing besides jacking off in your office like a pervert?” 

the silence was thick. you swore you could taste it settling flat on your tongue, tangy with remorse but just barely. it was sweet more than anything and heavy like honey. your chest felt lighter despite how hard it was to breathe, your lungs manually inflating, compressing, inflating- all as shallow as you felt throwing that at him. you weren’t normally this way, and he could see that. you saw him realize that, his eyes darkening as he visibly gulped back anything he thought about saying in response. instead, euijoo, prodded the inside of his cheek with his tongue, eyes half-lidded and jaw clenched. he kept his posture disengaged, his arms crossed firmly over his chest, although his fist clenched tighter under his bicep. he directed, finally doing one part of his job, “i think you should watch how you talk to me.” 

“i think you should watch how you look at me.” 

euijoo breathed a laugh, dumbfounded. he shook his head, like you had just told him something he knew was so far-fetched it could not possibly be true. like you’d said kermit was the hottest muppet; that’s how he laughed, like he knew it was really gonzo. he moved to stand up, extending his hand to the door behind you, “you should leave. i’m incredibly busy with things you dont know about, if you can believe it.” 

“i’m sure you are now, considering i just returned every last one of your ungraded assignments,” you were the one to cross your arms now, standing firm in your place. you nodded vaguely toward the tower of stapled papers on the corner of the desk, “most of these aren’t even for the intro seminar. i can check credit or no credit for a multiple choice quiz, but i dont know how to grade your shakespearean analyses or your goddamn poetry explications. i mean, i could figure it out, but-” 

“want me to show you?” 

you nearly laughed, thinking euijoo was mocking your ignorance, until you met his eyes, dark and narrowed. he held your gaze as he sat back in his chair, aligning his posture with the leather backing and firmly planting his feet, an inverse of the relaxed stature he sported when you came crashing in. he was completely serious about showing you how to do everything you mentioned, this you knew, but you weren’t stupid. there was an undertone, a silky venom under that first word- want. did you want him to show you? did you want him? the line had already been crossed. the two of you knew this and had known it for weeks, and, instead of calling it quits, you dragged it out. and now you had to decide; did you want euijoo to show you? 

you could basically feel yuma’s spirit in the room with you, grabby hands pushing you forward and snickering like a teenage girl, as you took two cautious steps around the corner of the desk. you had been closer to him before, like half an hour ago when he handed you the mismatched stack of papers and ghosted his breath on the shell of your ear, when he let his chest graze your shoulder. but it felt murky, now, as you stood next to him, arms still crossed as he fished a few poetry papers from the stack. he thumbed through them, looking for the perfect example, and, when he found it, he glanced briefly at you over his shoulder. 

“alright, so,” euijoo’s hands firmly pinched the edges of the paper, “you know poetry is all about choices. diction, imagery, meter, line breaks- the works; an explication magnifies those choices in the context of the poem, yeah? it makes the implicit explicit.” 

you nodded, but you were not listening. you were entirely focused on the flex of his fingers as he spoke, the curve of his wrist and the soft skin that disappeared under the sleeve of his blazer. you watched the tip of his nose move with his lips, the silver frame of his glasses glinting against the dim light of the lamp in the corner. implicit, explicit- it felt more pertinent to your situation than you’d cared to admit. 

“are you listening?” euijoo asked, not bothering to turn to look at you this time, “i asked if you’ve read this poem before.”

“oh, uh,” you cleared your throat, “no, sorry. i dont read a lot of poetry.” 

“that’s too bad,” euijoo sighed, swiveling around to angle his body toward you. it was all too much, really, the confrontation followed by the accusations and now the lesson? on a poem you’d never read for a class you didn’t plan on taking to grade a paper that wasn’t your responsibility. and he was sitting there, thighs spread enough to make him look even broader than he was, thighs carved under brown slacks. “would you like to read it?” 

“hm?” you eyed him, cautiously, eyebrows raised as if you still didnt hear him. you mouthed, oh, and reached out your hand, waiting for him to give you the poem. how else would you read it? but instead, he wrapped his fingers around your wrist, gently, moving in short, calculated motions. euijoo tugged your wrist toward him, a subtle gesture as though he were waiting for you to move on your own accord. this was the line, you realized, everything else was just poor timing and yuma’s imagination feeding your delusions. regardless of the ethics, the mental gymnastics you would need to do later to justify it all, you let your body succumb to his gravity. you followed the lead of his hand as he guided you to him, onto his lap, onto one thigh. you couldnt bite back your gasp as you settled onto his leg. yours were awkwardly situated off to the side, but you couldn’t care, not with the full heat of euijoos body pressed flat behind you. you could feel the muscles of his thigh, flexing under the swell of your ass. his hand had abandoned your wrist and settled instead on the sensitive skin on the back of your arms, his fingertips grazed the curve of your waist with every intoxicating drag of his knuckles to your elbows. it was exactly like striking steel on stone only slowly, tenderly as if it were a matter of intent. the fire would start, eventually.

he leaned back in his seat, relaxing in a way that made your rigid stance all the more noticeable, as conspicuous as the goosebumps prickling every visible part of your body. euijoo breathed deep. “go on,” he said, “read it aloud if you want.” 

you reached forward with obvious, shaking hands and scooted the paper toward you, stapled in the corner and heavy on only that side. you didn’t read aloud, afraid of what your voice would do if you even tried to speak in your current situation, but you felt euijoo’s eyes on you as you read. the writing was gorgeous, a tightly quilted cacophony of jarring but vivid images. you didn’t fully understand it, but that was the point. it drew your face into a point, one euijoo mirrored as he followed your eyes on the page, reading it alongside you. “beautiful,” he murmured, slipping his foot between yours and maneuvering your legs open, until you were straddling his thigh. and as you steadied your palms on the edge of his desk, adjusting to your new, sinful position, euijoo said, “now, in an explication, it’s all about making connections. consider the poem’s speaker, its meaning,” he slipped his fingertips under the hem of your shirt, grazing your waist with cold, nimble fingers, calloused from turning the page, from holding the pen, from gripping the leash of the dog you made up in your head. this was real, though, and you leaned back into his touch more than you should have, desperate for some kind of contact beyond his knuckles on your arm and, now, the press of his leg into your pulsing core. he walked his hands up your sides, stopping right under your ribs. his thumbs seared their own paths along your spine, pressing deliciously into your delicate skin. “remember what i said earlier about choices? an explication connects a poem’s meaning to things like meter and enjambment, or it considers the perspective of the poem’s speaker and the poet’s diction, imagery, rhythm.” 

euijoo’s hands slid to your hips, squeezing tentatively before pushing you down on the peak of his thigh. the sudden pressure, the final flick of steel on flint, pulled a moan from your throat that should have made you feel embarrassed but didn’t, not with euijoo guiding your hips back and forth over him, flexing his thigh deliciously under your clothed, aching core. he dragged you in short, slow motions, letting you work with him, letting you roll your hips over the taut muscles. you could hear his breathing grow uneven with every push and pull, every surrender to the urges he’d fought back the entire semester with you. you could feel him holding back, dipping his fingertips just beneath the waist of your pants and pressing into your flesh. you angled your hips back, just barely, and euijoo jolted under you as your ass brushed the evident, growing bulge in his slacks, his sudden movement eliciting another sound from you. and as the two of you groaned, together, you realized how easily someone could walk by the closed door, how someone could knock, or rather how they could not. 

and you realized how concerning it was that you didn’t really care. not at that moment, as euijoo sat up straight behind you, pulling your back flat against his heaving chest. you felt his heartbeat between your shoulderblades. he ground you down onto his leg once again, forcing sparks against your throbbing clit, even through the layers of clothing. you felt euijoo move your hair away from your neck and press a soft kiss to the back of your neck. wet, open-mouthed, and his tongue lingered at the tail-end, dragging a warm stripe up to your ear. “do you understand, now?” his lips grazed the shell of your ear. 

you hummed, almost drunk on him. but not drunk enough. “do you?” you smirked, rolling your hips against him once again, reveling in the friction as long as he would allow it, “i could have googled that.” 

one hand abandoned your waist and came up to your chin, holding your jaw. euijoo turned your face, gently, to look at him. his eyes glinted, dark, behind his glasses. his hand was so big, obvious against the curve of your cheek. he scanned your eyes for any sign of remorse, any inkling of regret, or fear, and found nothing but fire. pure heat. he licked his lips, “then why didnt you, hm? had to come in here and make a scene instead.” you placed your hand on his, just long enough to lift and slip his thumb between your lips, humming around his digit as he pushed it further inside. his own mouth fell open as you smoothed your tongue over the pad of his finger, urging him deeper until your lips were sealed up to his knuckle. euijoo groaned softly, pressing down on your tongue as you continued to rock your hips against him. “fuck,” he dragged, “you wanted this, too, hm? didnt you, doll?” euijoo watched as you hollowed your cheeks, his own tongue poking from the side of his mouth. “so desperate, grinding on me. go on and get yourself off on my thigh, pretty girl. you can do it.” he snaked his free hand from your hip around to your stomach, fingers still looped under your pants, teasing, “been feeling your needy cunt on me this whole time. you can make yourself come, can’t you, darling?” 

you whimpered around his thumb, rutting against his leg. you steadied yourself with one hand on the desk and wrapped the other around his wrist, keeping his fingers close to your mouth. your body was so, so close, your core burning white hot. but it wasnt enough. too many layers, too little friction without him pushing you down or flexing his thigh. you wanted more; you needed more.you needed him- his fingers, his mouth, his cock. you shook your head. 

“no?” euijoo furrowed his brows, tilting his head in a pout, “first, you can’t do something as simple as read a poem, grade a paper. and now you cant make yourself come? do you need my help with that, too, baby? want me to show you how?” 

you nodded, eagerly and without hesitation, but euijoo slid his thumb from your lips, smearing your spit over them like gloss, dragging it up your burning cheek. he cradled your head in his hand, tilting your head to look into his eyes, dark and round, amplified behind glass. he whispered, “i need you to say it for me, beautiful.”

“yes, euijoo,” your voice was low, quiet enough for him to hear and no one else, since you were painfully aware of how easily sound traveled through closed doors, “i want you.” 

it was true. you did have a thing for hot nerds in cardigans. and it was sick how you were willing to do anything he asked you. more than willing. in any other universe, the two of you would have crossed paths at the supermarket, where you’d have given him a terrible pasta recipe you’d made up on the spot to impress him, or at a bar, where maybe he’d have bought you a drink and his phone number. instead, your current paths were horribly complicated but crossing nonetheless, intertwining like two steel, barbed wires. like a chainlink fence. 

euijoo leaned in first, connecting your lips softer than you’d anticipated, like he was savoring you. in all honesty, you didn’t expect him to kiss you at all, but his lips were plush, warm, and they nestled between yours almost perfectly. he tasted as sweet as he smelled, moved as gentle as he looked. you melted into him, sighing against his lips, moving so meticulously against your own. he moved his hands to your ass, pulling you closer until you were straddling him. this taste of control made your head spin. you deepened the kiss, sliding your tongue past his lips. he hummed into the kiss, squeezing the flesh of your ass and pulling you down against him, just enough to grind up into you. you were both whining, groaning messes against one another, the kiss growing desperate with every grind of your hips, teeth grazing and noses clashing. 

“euijoo,” you mumbled, “touch me.” 

“hmm,” he disconnected your lips, pulling back only far enough to scan your face, “might need to google it first.” 

oh, and he was cheeky, too. great. you were taken aback by the unexpected humor but satisfied with the way he matched your wit. you let a smile bleed through the cool exterior you were trying desperately to maintain, “go ahead. i bet you can figure it out, though,” you smirked, testing the waters, “you touch yourself just fine.” 

euijoo let his head hang forward, breathing a laugh. “fair,” he said, pushing his glasses up on his nose, “you’re good.” 

“mhm,” you shifted in his lap, “i’m also- what all did you say? desperate, needy?” you leaned back down into him, pulling the collar of his coat away from his neck. you dusted a featherlight kiss right on his pulse, feeling it spike beneath your lips. he sucked in a quick breath, a gasp, and slid his hands over your thighs, squeezing the bulk of them before inching his fingers closer to the button of your pants. 

“gotta get these off, yeah?” euijoo breathed as you continued to work kisses up his neck, his jaw, and back to his mouth. before you could connect your lips to his, as you hovered impatiently over him, he pulled his face away, just an inch or two. he watched you fall forward, chasing him. a smirk tugged at his mouth as he whispered, “i want you on my desk.”  

you’d barely stepped out of your pants when euijoo hoisted you up, settling you on the edge of the wooden table but only after swiping his books and pens and trinkets out of the way. the pens rolled, a metallic rumbling punctuated by several clinking thuds as they teetered off the edge, and the books remained in tall stacks. the corners prodded your side, but it was a shadow of a sensation the moment euijoo sank to his knees and latched his mouth onto your inner thigh, fingers splayed on the plush flesh, pushing them wider.  

the idea used to make your thighs clench, the fleeting and hazy daydream of euijoo between your legs. it had felt intrusive before, like you’d needed something to get through the endless hours of his boring lectures and he was the closest object for your strange affection. and now that it was real, now that you could feel his breath fanning over the damp patch in your underwear, it was still hazy, like you had overindulged, like you had been greedy and you still wanted more. 

euijoo looped his fingers around the waist of your underwear, watching as the soaked fabric lifted away from your pussy, only to be quickly replaced with the flat of his tongue. he groaned, lapping up the arousal you’d worked so hard for, remnants of a distant and futile orgasm. his sharp tongue slipped through your folds, prodding at your clit with every slow, upward drag. the pace pulled a sigh from your chest, but every torturous flick of his tongue manifested in a stifled mewl. he was calculated, memorizing your reactions to pressures and patterns, but each movement was so agonizingly slow. you could hardly stand it. you rolled your hips to meet his rhythm, to maybe gain a fraction of speed, but it only made him lag behind his already languid pace. 

“please,” you gripped at the edge of the desk to hold yourself back from grabbing his hair and riding his face the way you’d imagined a hundred times, “more, euijoo.” 

part of you craved the slow, deliberate pleasure, wanted to savor the dreamy caress of his fingers dragging lightly down the outside of your thighs; another part of you recognized the risk of it all, the thin walls and thinner doors, the effort to swallow the sounds he was pulling from you almost distracting from the feeling itself. 

“more?” euijoo grazed your clit with his teeth, smirking against you as your hips jerked involuntarily. he circled your dripping entrance with his fingertip, relishing in the way your body curled toward him as he pushed it inside, slow and even, long and slender. the stretch was subtle at first, and inward, his fingertip grazing the depths of you. you gasped, softly, as he pumped once, twice, and then you gasped, a little less softly, as he reattached his lips to your clit, working every part of your cunt with a fixed precision. euijoo peered up at you, his glasses crooked on his nose as his tongue flicked swift swipes over your aching bud, pleasure burning low in your core. 

he added another finger, slipping it in smoothly with the first and curling them at a devastating angle. your moans were stifled, barely more than breath, but they were there, and so were euijoo’s. he hummed against your cunt, lips engulfing your clit to send the vibrations straight through you. he pressed your hips down with his other palm, keeping you still for him as your release crept closer and closer, winding tightly in your core and threatening to snap at any moment. you attempted to roll your hips to amplify the movements of his fingers, chasing your high, but he didn’t stop you this time. instead, he loosened his grip, digging his fingers into your hip but not preventing you from moving, and pressed his tongue flat against you. “take it, baby,” he mumbled, “take what you need.” 

and you did, threading your hand in his hair and grinding helplessly on his face as euijoo pumped his fingers relentlessly into you, plucking the taut string until it snapped. your orgasm washed over you, silently and all at once, your pussy fluttering around his fingers. he stilled his tongue against you, feeling the pulse of your heat and catching your release as it leaked around his digits. “that’s it. come all over my fingers, pretty girl.” he slid his fingers out of you before watching them disappear in your sensitive cunt one final time. he brought them to his lips, slurping your juices from his skin, his own lips glistening with a combination of your wetness and his own drool. he was intoxicating- a vision. he squeezed your thigh one final time, whispering, “you’re even sweeter than i imagined.”  

imagined. the word made you come back down, your core still pulsing but craving more. you reached out for him, pulling him up to meet your lips in a frenzied, hungry kiss. you let your tongue slip into him immediately, savoring your own flavor on his tongue. he groaned into you, pressing his hips flush to yours; his dick was straining against the front of his pants, twitching against your bare core as your tongues melted against each other. you pulled away first, just enough to ask, “and what else did you imagine?” 

euijoo breathed a laugh, casting his eyes away from you like he was embarrassed, scanning the shelves on the wall behind you. his tongue darted out before he slipped his bottom lip between his teeth. he slipped his hands beneath your shirt again, dragging his fingertips up your sides, “i imagined your mouth on my cock,” he said as his gaze fell on your lips, like he were imagining it then, too. he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your jaw, working his way down your neck, “i imagined your throat, bruised and sore after i’ve fucked it raw.” 

you couldnt help the way you moaned as euijoo nipped at your skin, soothing the tender area with his tongue. every part of your body was on fire. you slid your hands to the front of his pants, innocently looping your fingers through his belt loops. “and that day, when you thought you were alone,” you pulled the tent of his cock closer, brushing it against your sensitive core, and you felt him moan against your neck, “what did you imagine, then?” 

“bending you over my desk,” euijoo hissed into your ear, answering like it was obvious, before smoothing his tongue over the shell of it, “and stuffing you full of my cum.” he pushed his hips closer, grinding up into you in a slow and controlled movement, and growled, lowly, “over and over and over.” 

before you could even think, you were shoving his blazer off his shoulders and running your palms over the broad slopes of hidden muscle. beneath, he was clad only in a button up with the sleeves rolled a precise three times to his forearms. he watched you unbutton the top two plastic discs sewn to his shirt and stop, satisfied with the slight reveal of flushed skin. the only thing you had it worse for than a hot nerd in a cardigan was a hot nerd in a slutty little button up. “you have a vivid imagination, euijoo,” you whispered, bringing your hands back down to his belt and toying with the worn metal fixtures, “lots of time to daydream when you have someone else doing your work for you, hm?” 

euijoo rolled his eyes, mirroring your smirk as you worked at his belt. he pushed your hands out of the way and swiftly unbuckled the leather strap, unbuttoning his slacks but hesitating to push them down. instead, he scanned your face again, this time really looking at you. he studied the creases of your eyes, the arch of your brow, the plush curve of your lips, red and swollen from being lodged between your teeth to smother your moans. you tilted your head, curious, having never been able to read him in any situation but especially this one. you felt exposed under his gaze, and not only because you were, still nude from the waist down, but because he was too silent. it was like you tripped a wire. he chewed the inside of his cheek, his hand falling to caress the outside of your bare thigh once again. the goosebumps rose as he whispered, “can i admit something?”

“no,” you whispered back, dragging your fingers down his clothed chest, gently passing over the toned slopes of his stomach until you reached the zipper of his slacks. you caught the metal tab between your fingers and pulled it, slowly, over the grinding metal teeth until there was enough space to slip your hand in and press your palm against him, “tell me after you’ve fucked me.” 

euijoo choked back a groan, lowering his head to your shoulder as his hips bucked into your hand. his teeth grazed the sensitive skin of your neck, sharp pecks along your collarbones growing more intense with every squeeze of your hand, every jolt of pressure. “fuck,” euijoo cursed against your neck, his breathing erratic, like he could have came from this alone, “deal.” he pushed his slacks down enough for his cock to spring free, the tip red and impatient, flushed and frustrated just like his face. and just as pretty. as was the case with any daydream, any fantasy, you’d imagined he would be huge, inhumanly girthy, but the reality was not disappointing; he was average in bulk but long and slightly curved. your mouth watered as your fingers wrapped around him instinctively. your mouth felt suddenly hollow, throat aching to be, what was it, bruised and sore? but, frankly, so was your pussy, dripping with greed all over his desk in a way that should have embarrassed you but only turned you on more. he squeezed his eyes shut as you stroked him, agonizingly slow, feeling the pulsing vein that ran along the underside. he held your hand still as a silent plea before pulling you off him completely, holding both of your hands in his as he urged you off the desk. 

a gentleman, at last. 

but as soon as you were standing on two feet, he spun you around with a steady hand on your hip and bent you, directly at the waist, over his desk. you gasped at the contrast, soft palms with calloused fingers pushing the small of your back until your stomach was level with the wooden surface. it was all very confusing, the way you had to bite back a moan at the force and, then, a smile as he reached around you, opening a book from the top of its stack and placing it below your face. a cushion of sorts, which you happily nestled your cheek against, the pages loved and soft. 

and then you felt it- the heavy tip of his cock as euijoo pushed himself over your entrance and through your folds in slow, maddening strokes, coating himself in you and driving you up the wall in one go. he bumped your clit with every drag, hands kneading the plush of your ass as you arched into him. “still so fucking wet,” he mumbled, hissing as he made another long drag through your leaking cunt, “i’m gonna fuck you now, baby. let me know if its too much and i’ll stop, yeah? say it for me.” 

“y-yes,” you breathed, the air rustling the raw edge of the page beneath your cheek. euijoo squeezed your hip, thumb pressing into your flesh as he breached your entrance at an agonizing pace, stretching and searing. your jaw went slack, hanging open with a silent cry as he slid, inch by inch, deeper inside of you, until you were sure there was no more left. and then he kept going. you reached for anything to hold onto as he split you directly in two, “fuck, yes. fuck- euijoo-” 

“that’s it, baby,” he stroked the curve of your back as he bottomed out inside of you, “not so bad, was it? pretty pussy sucked me right in.” and you felt every inch of him, kissing your walls and sparking your nerves with that familiar stone-fueled fire. euijoo ground his hips against your ass, as if he could possibly go any deeper, and whined, soft and high, yet another contrast to the firm press of his hand on your hip. experimentally, you copied his movement, rolling your hips slightly, pulling forward and pushing back onto him in one short, slow stroke. 

“so fucking impatient,” euijoo mumbled, sliding out of you almost entirely, leaving you empty for only a second before pushing back in, watching himself disappear between your folds, “so fucking eager.” you sank your teeth into your fist to muffle your moans, the scrape of his cock along your insides begging you to break, coaxing the most pathetic sounds out of you. and they only got worse as he snapped his hips faster, driving his cock into you in short, rapid thrusts. 

“squeezing the hell out of me, doll,” he grunted, “so fucking tight, so perfect.” you clenched around him at the praise, wishing the circumstances were different and that you could hear him, really hear him. the soft grunts and gentle whines were only a fraction of what he could really give you. he was spearing into you, fingers walking up your spine and smoothing over your skin with featherlight touches. his pace was becoming relentless, as fast as he could go without the obscene sound of skin-on-skin permeating the room, but it was the firm pressure of his fingertips circling your clit that made tears prick your eyes. “feel good, baby?” he mocked you with a honey-sweet voice, “crying all over the page, smearing my ink?” 

you felt the wetness roll out of the corners of your eyes and trickle into a puddle under your cheek. he didn’t even mention the drool that had accumulated from the side of your lips, fucked dumb on his desk, lurching toward his hips with every thrust to get yourself closer. “so fucking good,” you whispered, clawing at the edges of the desk to give yourself leverage, “please don’t stop, euijoo. gonna come for you.” 

“come all over my cock, pretty girl,” he mumbled, pressing on your back and rubbing intense circles around your throbbing clit. his thrusts were growing sloppy, and you knew he was close, too, ready for your orgasm to milk him dry. you arched your back just right, feeling his tip swipe that perfect spot in your core over and over, like a cellist plucking the lowest note, the thickest string. you felt your second orgasm rain over you, the wire finally snapping and sending a wave tremors through your body, your legs trembling below you, jaw slack with a silent cry lodged in your throat. euijoo buried himself to the hilt inside of you, letting your fluttering pussy work his own release out of him, the warmth spreading low into your stomach. he pumped himself into you once, then twice, forcing his cum deeper into you, groaning quietly and kneading the curve of your ass. he breathed, “holy shit,” and unsheathed his softening dick from your aching cunt, leaving you empty and cold as his seed leaked down your thighs. 

all you could do was lay there, just for a few minutes, catching your breath as he grabbed tissues from his desk drawer and tenderly scooped the trails of cum from your skin. he tossed the tissues into the trash and rested his hand, delicately, on the back of your head, petting your hair. you hummed, pleased with the contact, a sincere gesture. euijoo cleared his throat, tucking a strand of hair behind your ears, “i’m going to tell you this now because i feel like you’re too tired to be pissed at me.” 

you felt your breath catch in your throat as he admitted, “half of those assignments i gave you weren’t even real; the papers just smelled like you when you brought them back to me.” 

from the corner of your eye, you saw the stack of papers that brought you in here in the first place, stapled neatly on every corner and wrinkled on the edges from how tightly you clutched them to your chest as you stormed into his office. you thought about the hours wasted grading, the excess of tasks, the nights slipping away while you were stressed out of your mind. you sighed, still spent, “fuck you, euijoo.” 

“promise?”

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

@wenomakiluvr @guliexe @cheolscherries1812 @jungwonsgff @heesoulnotes @kjjupilled @xionvlog @ikigaijo @0wisewisdoom @minhosimthings

“i’ll wait,” he whispered, forehead resting against yours. “a couple years… i’ll be patient. i promise. but we still…um try…”

“yah—! you just want to cum in me—”

taki’s eyes went wide the second the words left your mouth.

his whole face flushed bright red, ears burning, and he let out a shocked little squeak against your lips. he pulled back just enough to stare at you, mouth open like a flustered fish.

he yelped, voice cracking adorably. “that’s not— i mean— i didn’t say it like that!”

but even as he tried to protest, he couldn’t hide the way his body reacted. his arms tightened around you even more, hips pressing just a little closer against yours, and you could feel the heat radiating off him.

he hid his burning face in your neck again, whining loudly.

“…okay maybe i do,” he mumbled, voice so small and embarrassed it was almost a whisper. “i really, really do. but it’s not just that! i swear!”

“you’re so mean for saying it out loud like that…” he pouted, but his voice was breathy and his eyes were sparkling. “now i can’t stop thinking about it… making you all full and warm… maybe even trying a few times until it works…”

his fingers slipped under your shirt again, this time sliding higher up your back, pulling you closer as he pressed soft, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw.

“but i’ll wait if you want me to,” he whispered right against your ear, voice turning a little husky. “i’ll be good… even if i’m dying to breed you right now.”

© 𝘀𝗺𝗶𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗲 2026ㅤ ❤︎ㅤ 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲𝘀 & 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘁𝘀 𝗿 𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱! 𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: this was for an ask i got awhile ago~~ i finally got around to writing it... i want taki's babies thats all

𝗌𝖿𝗐 𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍 open . . . . .   @ikigaijo @blueuijoo @0wisewisdoom @d3adg1rlie @yudaism @sh1n3-4h4na @starl0stt @yeonyeonbun @vickiluvsjo  @ampiesworld @whoisgwyn @zzniya  @simplyscrewed @meowieshibal @1014b @deerhuntings @tokunodoll @pendragonfaye @natthefreak @sailorinthesie @rikusqirl @mitsuyas-version @freetobeey @xukeiko @livelaughloveseventeen @berrysoft7 @gummiiiee @radxdga @hhoneylix @pageraf @guliexe @fumaid @yandere-stories @jpow345 @itzhbu @reisdoll @horangiungnico @yethoughts @sunsoomi @antiniitonny @lovelynyah @ateez-atiny380 @crdteezv @moonchild-31 @yvalrik @makizdoll @aitherish @yourfavzomboy @seren-void @nichosaint