«GENERAL M.LIST» · «NAVIGATION» · «TALK TO ME» · «TAGLIST»
SYNOPSIS
When Minho buys a really ugly dress for you, but you don't want to hurt his feelings.
Pairing: Lee Know x fem!reader
Genre: established relationship, fluff
Warnings: none :)
Word Count: 1.4k
P.S. ♡ If you like my work, please consider giving me feedback in the form of reblogs, comments, and asks! ♡
“Honey, I got you a surprise!”
You immediately toss aside the book you were reading and practically leap off the couch at the sound of Minho’s voice. You love surprises. Your husband enters the room with a tired look on his face, but nevertheless, he smiles lovingly at you, holding out a cute beige-colored shopping bag to you.
“I stopped by the store after work,” Minho explains, sitting down next to you as he loosens his tie.
You pause while pulling out the sparkly tissue paper at the top of the bag, touched. You know how busy Minho is these days, and the fact that he took time out of his day to get you something made you melt. “Aw, Min. You’re so sweet.”
The tips of Minho’s ears turn pink, like they always did whenever you praise him. “Look inside the bag!”
You tear through the wrapping paper, your fingertips meeting something soft. Intrigued, you pull the mystery item out excitedly, only to realize that it is the absolutely ugliest dress that you have ever set eyes on. For a moment, you just stare at it, surprised in the worst possible way.
“So? What do you think?”
Minho’s eager voice snaps you out of your mini reverie. You gulp, racking your head for something to say. “Oh! Urm…”
His face falls. “Do you not like it?”
You shake your head vigorously. “No! I’m just so… amazed! You normally never buy clothes for me.”
Minho grins. “I know. But hey, maybe there can be two fashionistas in the family now.”
“Yeah, definitely!” You swallow, hoping he doesn’t see right through you.
Satisfied, he tilts his head towards your bedroom. “You should try it on!”
Defeated, you turn and trudge to your bedroom. Once you’re inside, you quickly pull off your favorite pajamas and change into the dress. Minho enters the room as you step into the mirror, and you truly have to clench your jaw to keep the horrified gasp that nearly escapes you.
The dress is an insult to fashion, if you’re being honest. The geometric pattern sporting an unflattering shade of orange makes you feel like a pumpkin. It looks like a shapeless blob on you, the swaths of fabric pooling unflatteringly at your waist. The knitted design is scratchy on your skin, making it incredibly uncomfortable. And to make everything worse, you catch the number on the price tag, and you want to faint.
Clearing your throat, you glance to your side over at Minho, who gazes wordlessly into the mirror at your reflection. “How do I look?”
He shakes his head softly, genuinely awestruck. “Beautiful. Just beautiful.”
You have an idea or two of what you really think you look like, but you plaster on a fake smile, hoping you’re selling it. “You’re the best husband ever.”
“I saw it in the store, and thought it would look so pretty on you.” Minho beams proudly, and he looks so innocent that you feel your heart break a little in guilt.
“Minho, baby.” You place a hand on his shoulder. “You really didn’t have to.”
He pouts. “But Changbin is hosting dinner tomorrow, and I wanted you to have something nice to wear.”
So what other option do you have than to thank him and give him a little kiss? You would wear that god-awful dress to Chanbin’s party for everyone to see, rather than hurt Minho’s feelings, right? Definitely.
“Y/N, Minho! Come on in!” Changbin opens the door, welcoming you into his home.
You don’t miss his expression of shock as he lets you in, but ever the gracious host, Changbin smoothly covers it up with a smile and hugs you both. As you and Minho walk into the living room, where all of the guests are mingling over cocktails. You get similar looks from the others, but you glance over at Minho worriedly, hoping he doesn’t notice. Luckily, he doesn’t seem to, joining in on the conversation and laughing at someone’s joke.
You inhale and let yourself relax, searching the crowd for Hyunjin and Jisung, your two good friends. You spy Jisung loitering by the dessert table, discreetly piling brownies into napkins and tucking them into his pockets for later.
“Sneaking extra brownies, are we?” You creep up behind him, making him yelp and nearly drop his brownie.
“Seriously—” Jisung looks over at you, prepared to shoot a comeback at you when he halts. “What in the world are you wearing?”
You roll your eyes. “A dress, okay? Minho got it for me.”
“Oh.”
“Is there something you want to say, Jisung?”
He stuffs the brownie into his mouth to obviously conceal his laughter, but you don’t miss the faint smirk on his face. “Nothing.”
You give up. “Where’s Hyunjin?”
“Late, as usual.” Jisung swallows his brownie before eyeing the mini pizza bagels at the end of the table. “I’ll be right back.”
You turn and look for Minho, finding him chatting with Seungmin. Seungmin finishes refilling his wine glass and exits the kitchen, and Minho takes the chance to slip his arms around your waist, pulling you close.
“Enjoying the party?” He asks, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
You nod, taking a sip of Minho’s drink. “Mhm.”
Minho looks down at you. “I’ll bet you’re getting a lot of compliments on your dress.”
“So many.” You flick an imaginary piece of lint off of said dress. You hate lying to him.
Minho frowns, noticing how you’re avoiding his eyes, and opens his mouth to say something, but before he can, Hyunjin waltzes in, two hours after the party began.
You take the opportunity to change the subject. “Fashionably late, Hyunjin?”
“Yes, but I can’t say the same for you, Y/N.” Hyunjin bursts into laughter. “Where did you get that dress? It’s actually hideous.”
Usually, you wouldn’t mind such a comment coming from Hyunjin, because this kind of teasing banter was a normal exchange between you both. However, this time, Minho is the one who is responsible for your outfit.
And from the way the smile fades from Minho’s face, he is also listening. “What?”
You glare at Hyunjin. “No, it’s not.”
Hyunjin snickers, still not getting the hint. “You know damn well—”
“Y/N said she loved it.” Minho steps in, looking equal parts confused and upset. “I bought it for her yesterday.”
Hyunjin shuts up at last, finally realizing why you are shooting daggers at him with your eyes. “Ohhh. I was just kidding, Minho. Please don’t murder me.”
With that, Hyunjin quickly bolts out of the kitchen, leaving you and Minho alone. You peek over at Minho, only to see him sadly looking down at the floor.
“Min…”
“I knew you hated it.” Minho puts his glass in the sink and walks out. With a frustrated groan, you follow after him, only to catch him in a very deep one-way conversation with Jisung, who just chews on his food while watching Minho rapidly ramble about cars. You understand that Minho is mortified and doesn’t want to talk to you, so you go back to Hyunjin, who has wandered into Changbin’s home gym and is messing with the weights.
For the rest of the evening, there’s this tension you can’t name between you and Minho, and you both don’t exchange any words. When it’s time to leave, you both say goodbye to everyone before getting into your car. For a few minutes, there’s an awkward silence as Minho drives and stares straight ahead, not looking at you even once. Once you arrive at home, Minho parks, and you prepare to get down out of the car, but Minho speaks up.
“I wish you just told me that you didn’t like the dress. Then I wouldn’t have been so embarrassed,” Minho says softly.
You sigh. “I just didn’t want to hurt your feelings, and you were so excited.”
“You should have been honest.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
Minho stays quiet for a moment, and you think he’s still disappointed, but then he looks over at you, a small grin on his face. “I’m sorry too. When you opened it I realized it really was so ugly, but I was too stubborn to admit it.”
You chuckle, relieved. “Maybe leave clothes shopping to me. You’re good at so many other things.”
“I agree. I can’t be too perfect, after all.” Minho winks at you playfully.
With an amused smile, you lean over and kiss your husband. His fashion sense may not be incredible, but you love him just the way he is.
«GENERAL M.LIST» · «NAVIGATION» · «TALK TO ME» · «TAGLIST»
broooooo this is sooooo i can't!!! legit had the biggest smile reading this istg!!! this was so adorable but bro the way the writing just played out in my head I love it smm
like from the beginning when the reader just jumped out of the damn couch wa SSOO adorable and when minho joked like now there can be two fashionista in the house like idk why I was laughing at his lame ass jokes i ain't his wife bruhhh this is so goofy. also when reader asking where hyunjin is to jisung? like miss girl are you planning on flaunting the dress to everyone?!?? (minho the real lucky one getting a wife like that)
and talking about the dress the description literally had me floored like no way she actually wore it?!? also in the end I GET minho's trifling ass was lowkey knew it was ugly and did it for fun! i BET! like this was sooo funny omg!
Pairing: OBGYN!Beomgyu x Neonatologist!Reader (fem!reader)
Tolerance for Choi Beomgyu? Negative. Feelings for Choi Beomgyu? Inconclusive. Pregnancy test in your hand? Positive.
Synopsis: The universe likes to toss you a bunch of "Fuck You!"s. Like almost not getting into med school, you and your long-term boyfriend failing to get pregnant, and by sending your undergrad nemesis, Choi Beomgyu, to med school just so he can transfer right into your hospital.
But perhaps the biggest one was the positive pregnancy test in your hands after a drunk one night stand with him.
Genre: Enemies to lovers, slowburn, doctors, eventual smut, angst (?)
Pt.II Word Count: 10k
Warning: Mentions of infertility, mentions of miscarriages, grieving, accidental pregnancy, explicit language, IVF, mentions of premature babies in the NICU, unprotected sex, drunk sex, etc.
Note: Wow, I never thought that I'd write 10k words for a part. It took forever to edit this but I hope you get a feeling for their personalities more. I hope to continue improving my writing. Please enjoy!
Please like, reblog, or comment if you love it <3
Masterlist
“All these years and you’re still obsessed with me?” Beomgyu pouts in a mocking manner.
You scream internally. There is no way that Beomgyu is standing in your hospital because he’s the so-called “hot” transfer. Tomorrow, everybody was going to get a mandated vision exam.
Unfortunately, Choi Beomgyu was really standing right in front of you – all 178 cm of him. The worst part? He was in scrubs with the hospital badge clipped on it, his picture comfortably on it as if he planned to stay for a long time. You don’t know how, but you summoned him by seeing his picture last night.
Feeling your face flush, you try to rush out a retort, but trip over your tongue. What you wanted to ask was either “I’m obsessed with who?” or “Who’s obsessed with you?” Instead, what came out was “I’m obsessed with you” in a strong declaration as if you were truly a crazed fan.
Beomgyu snorts loudly.
God, what the fuck.
Ari, who was gawking from beside you, jerks her head your way after hearing the nonsense that tumbled out of your mouth.
“Forget it. What are you doing here?”
The corner of his lip twitches. “Wanna know?”
If he says the obvious, you were going to wrap your hands around his neck (or your own).
He leans down by your ear.
“Making your life hell, Duh.”
You turn to face him, finding him close enough that you can see the uneven texture of his skin. His eyes drop down to your lips for a moment, and a sneaky remembrance of what you two did on Taehyun’s wedding night resurfaces. You worked so hard to bury that memory only for your lips to tingle in betrayal.
Beomgyu breaks the stillness by biting the space between you, making you jerk your face away.
With a throaty chuckle, he turns to walk away, greeting Ari briefly with a nod and wicked smile before heading into the hallway of the delivery room.
You scoff with a huge eyeroll. “If he misses home that much, he should just go back!”
By the way Ari’s eyes are following him, she doesn’t seem to agree.
You owed Ari – and about five other nurses – an explanation for the spectacle they just witnessed. While you were able to brush off the nurses with a promise to catch them during one of your breaks, you knew Ari wouldn’t be satisfied with hearing an abridged version over lunch (besides, you promised your lunch hour to Jaeil). Instead, she settled on a sleepover after work, giving you more time to think about what you were and weren’t going to tell her.
Now wasn’t the time to think about it, though. Your patient, Park Naeun, was sixteen hours deep into labor, she wasn’t fully dilated, and her baby’s heart rate was dropping. Your eyes were glued to the monitor. You had about seven minutes before it was going to turn into an emergency c-section.
You chew on your lip, eyes landing on Beomgyu who pushed the hair away from his forehead with his sleeve before calling for one of the nurses to assist him. The two of them collided as they rushed to his side. Were they equally concerned and eager to help or just excited to be next to him? You roll your eyes before you can stop yourself. If Naeun or her husband caught you, you wouldn’t blame them for hitting you with the nearest thing by them.
“Please, I’m so tired! Is he there?!” She cries as she lays on her back to catch her breath. Her husband holds her hand tightly, looking over your way.
“Is the baby okay? Are they going to be okay?” He asks, wiping away the sweat on her forehead.
You quickly glance at the monitor. Her contractions were too intense, while she had the epidural and probably couldn’t feel them anymore, her baby was being impacted. You try to control the alarm you felt, eyes falling onto Beomgyu.
Do something, please.
“Everything’s okay,” Beomgyu reassures them, voice calm and controlled. “The baby’s here.” He hurries one of the nurses, Mina, for the vacuum with a waddle of his finger where Naeun and her husband can’t see. Ari leaves the warmer to help them find it.
Naeun starts taking shallower breaths, her body continuing to quiver from the epidural. You watch the baby’s heart rate take a dip and your stomach twists.
“89 bpm and falling,” You call, breathless. You adjust your mask, not wanting it to fall and reveal your expression.
Beomgyu rolls his shoulders back. “One last push, and I promise you can hold him.” His gentle voice fills the room. Naeun holds onto the bed rail and does her best to gather all her energy for another push. Catching the baby, Beomgyu waits for Mina to cut the umbilical cord. He stands and you immediately make your way over to him, heart in your throat. His eyes travel from the baby up to yours, and you understand.
The baby isn’t making a sound.
You take the baby into your hands and take him over to the warmer where Ari waits.
Naeun and her husband watch you with fear in their eyes. “What’s going on? Someone please tell me… is my baby okay?” She cries while her husband tries to soothe her, the nurses attend to her as well.
“He just needs to be cleared up.” Beomgyu explains, returning to his position to care for Naeun.
With Ari’s assistance, you suction the baby and provide oxygen through the mask. Ari reads the heart rate out loud and when it dips too low, you begin the chest compressions.
He’s alive. He just needs to take a breath. Come on, little one.
After a few compressions, the baby lets out a loud cry, and he quickly gains color throughout his body. You let out a long, satisfied sigh through your nose.
Good job, baby.
Naeun sobs in relief and her husband thanks everyone in the room with a strained voice while his tears drip down his cheeks.
Picking up the baby in her arms, Ari walks over to congratulate Naeun before helping her bare her chest for him to lay on.
You sneak a peek over at Beomgyu who is still, observing intently as the new parents hold their baby. His eyes, usually twinkling with mischief, were somber. Was he still worrying about the baby?
You couldn't tear your eyes from him. You weren't familiar with this Beomgyu. He didn't make stupid calls, act egotistically, or pick a fight with you like you thought he would have. During the entire delivery, he was committed to his work, keeping himself focused and composed under the huge, huge amount of pressure on his shoulders.
Finished with the stitches, Beomgyu takes off his gloves, surprising you when his eyes glance your way.
Your heart flutters as you dart your eyes away. Why did your heart just do that? You can't be that easy! What's next? You'll be asking the nurses if there's room for one more in their fan club? Unbelievable.
You let out a deep exhale, hoping that it alleviates the pressure inside of your chest. It doesn’t.
He stands, leaning toward Naeun to congratulate her before making his way toward the door, asking the nurses orders to grab the equipment for the sterile processing technicians. For a moment, you think he's going to stop by you and make some kind of comment, but he continues to walk past without another glance. You hold your breath until he completely exits into the hallway.
Mina and the other nurse giggle about how handsome he is as they gather the equipment.
It’s pretty privilege. Choi Beomgyu can do anything and charm people.
And you're just another victim.
Shaking your head, you smile and walk over to congratulate the new family.
Your stomach growls as you stand by your locker, looking over your missed messages. Jaeil texted that he was sitting in the parking lot, waiting for your confirmation on which entrance to meet at. As you wrap your scarf around your neck, you shoot him a quick reply that you preferred to have lunch outside of the hospital this time.
Despite working at a large hospital, gossip traveled faster than a virus could dream. You’ve never met Yuri in pharmacy, but you already know that she’s cheated on her boyfriend with three of the night-shift nurses. Her boyfriend eventually found out because one of his friends was hired as a security guard and caught wind of the gossip.
The last thing you needed was for everyone to hear about your awkward make up after a break up. You were highly respected in the department, an impressive achievement for only working one year at the hospital. Although everyone was really polite, you didn’t want to find out how different they would treat you after finding out that you were going through a potential breakup over your infertility. It was only a matter of time before the entire department and more heard about the interaction between you and Beomgyu as well. You needed a way to contain the fire before it spread and returned to burn you.
Now, the worst possible situation to run into at lunch? If someone overheard your conversation and it happened to be Choi Beomgyu.
Beomgyu knew of Jaeil. When you introduced Jaeil to your friends that unfortunately meant that Beomgyu was around. Surprisingly, Beomgyu behaved himself around Jaeil. But that didn’t stop you from receiving his smirks and jumping eyebrows behind Jaeil’s back. During the span of you dating Jaeil (on and off), Beomgyu had run through at least 8-10 girlfriends. When he finds out you and Jaeil are still together, he probably will roll over in disbelief. And knowing him, he’d select the table right next to yours for perfect reception to your conversation. He wouldn’t even need a meal, feasting on your embarrassment. You could already hear him telling you to quit your job and pursue your true calling – being a nun.
Remember that faint ache you felt for him in the delivery room? Yeah, it was making it was dissipating. The less time you spend near him, the better.
The universe must’ve thought that was a cute proclamation because as soon as you jogged down the atrium stairs, you bump into Beomgyu himself while turning at the landing.
He holds your arm as you balance yourself.
“Let’s try that again. This time just walk over to say hi like a regular person.”
You restrain yourself from facepalming. “My bad! You’re right – I should try that again.”
After going up a few stairs, you walk back down nonchalantly, only this time you attempt to walk right past him just as he did earlier. You, however, were unsuccessful, his arm wrapping around you to swing you back to him.
He did it so effortlessly, his strong arm pressed against you. The warmth of the contact tingles the rest of your body.
He eyes you up and down before letting go, stuffing his hand into his pocket. “Headed to lunch?”
“Yes. No. Maybe so. Anyways, gotta go.”
“Thanks, Dr. Seuss.” He manages to hook his finger into your pants loop as you take a step down the stairs, keeping you in place as he steps down with you. “Let’s have lunch together.”
“I-“ You mutter.
Ugh, why is he touching you?!
“I have a boyfriend...”
He throws his head back with a silent chuckle. “Sorry, I forgot having lunch means something different in your world.”
“I meant I have a boyfriend to meet.” You grind down on your bottom teeth. Why talk if he makes fun of everything you say?
He gasps teasingly, putting his hands together by his mouth. In an airy voice he says, “Congratulations.”
He’s ridiculous.
“Sorry I missed the announcement. Is there a link to the registry—"
You jabbed your elbow into his stomach to prevent him from saying anything more, as well as from any attempt to get closer to you. You don’t normally resort to violence in the workplace, but it doesn’t count anymore if you’ve left the department doors, right?
You take a few more steps away from him. Turning to face him when you’ve created a good enough distance.
“Enough. You’ve tormented me enough about that. I’m not in the mood to rehash it for shits and giggles. And I’m not the only one you know here. Go ask Soobin or something. Besides, we’re not friends, and I’m not interested in ever being friends.”
His cheek pinches in disdain, just like it always did when you said something he didn’t agree with. “No, I guess you made that very clear.”
You frown, narrowing your eyes at him. Was he being sarcastic?
Beomgyu continues to look deeply into your eyes as if looking right through your façade. “Sorry, why don’t you go down to your prince charming, hm?” With an eye roll, he heads up the stairs.
Don’t feel bad. Don’t feel bad. You merely pinched his skin while he’s been piercing through yours.
If anyone was standing around listening, they would think that you were the one being a real jerk. But they didn’t understand the baggage that you carried from Beomgyu’s bullying over the years. The memories stung deep. You were trying to move on, but not in the ‘let’s-make-amends’ way. Instead, you wanted to learn to co-exist as professionals. Nothing else.
You fix your hair, looking over your shoulder to make sure that Beomgyu wasn’t watching. He wasn’t.
With a deep breath, you push open the door.
Your grateful for the cold gust of wind that brushes against your face, and grateful for the city sounds that distract you from the thoughts inside your head.
“So…” Jaeil breaks the silence while you both wait for the delivery of your burger and fries at The Downtowner. You pull yourself out of your thoughts to focus on your boyfriend. He cut his hair short, a bold choice for him, but it pairs well with his foxlike eyes. He fiddles with his glasses as if he wasn’t fully confident in his new look yet. Did he cut it right before meeting with you?
“I was afraid that you weren’t going to reach out.” He chuckles weakly.
He wasn’t wrong. You weren’t going to. Each time that you two separated, you’ve gotten back together because you were the one that caved in first. This time was different because you reached a point where you got tired of not sticking up for your feelings. The question left to be answered was whether Jaeil reflected on how he hurt you or if he simply just missed your company.
“Works been busy,” you twirl the soda straw around your finger. “But, truthfully, I wanted you to text me first.”
“Ohh…” He looks down at the table. “You were testing me?”
You shake your head. “Noo... nothing like that. I was upset. So, I was hoping that if you texted me first, it would be because you realized you hurt me.”
“Without telling me? H-how…?” His eyes shift around as if he’s perplexed how he could ever come to that conclusion unless you straight out told him.
Some things you should be able to tell…especially with someone you’ve been with for years.
You shrug your shoulders. “I mean don’t you think what you said was pretty cruel?”
Jaeil’s eyebrows shoot up. You’ll take that as a no.
You sigh, your shoulders dropping. “You know I’ve been praying for a miracle for us for a long time. Not being able to get pregnant? It’s something I haven’t fully accepted. Yeah, I’m frustrated, but not once did I take that out on you. It felt like you did, though, Jaeil. And I blame myself enough for you, me, and our families. When you said that, I thought ‘has he been thinking this too? This entire time?’”
Jaeil reaches over the table for your hand, you let him take it. It was his attempt to calm you down. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to– sorry, you’re right. It was blaming you. I should’ve chosen my words better. Because it’s not just you… I realize it’s us…”
Your voice weakens. “Us? I was just having a bad week, Jaeil. My job’s tough and I’m only human. Of course, I’m not making an excuse for unintentionally pushing you away…”
“You’ve been pushing me away much longer than a week… If I moved closer to you, you leaned away. If I tried to hold your hand, you’d make an excuse not to. If I tried to cuddle you, you’d pull away. What was I supposed to think when you didn’t even want to kiss me anymore?”
You begin to shake your head but stop to think back if there was some truth behind his claim. You press your lips together because he was right. You were acting differently than you used to. When you first started your relationship, you were constantly showering him with kisses, hugs, any and all affection as if you wanted him to put you in his pocket and never let you go. But that was because you were making up for what you’ve never had. Now? Now you understood that you needed balance. It didn’t necessarily mean you loved him any less than when you first got together. Love is supposed to change like that, right?
“I just… needed some space.”
He tilts his head. “Well, you got it. Did it make a difference for you? Because I need to know how you feel about me now.”
Your heart pounds. This isn’t a breakup, this can’t be a break up.
“The same.” Hearing your voice come out raspy, you clear your throat.
“The same?” Looking down at your hands, he closes his eyes and sighs. “We can’t keep going on like this. Over and over, we keep splitting up over small disagreements. That’s not…how it should be? If we keep pushing each other away, whether with words or space, I feel like it’s only going to hurt our chances.”
Chances at…? A future or a family? Can’t there be a future without a family? Gulping the annoying lump in your throat away, you lift your eyes to connect with his. “Jaeil, have you ever thought about if we can’t ever have a baby?” Your voice catches and the uncomfortable sting in your eyes makes your eyelashes flutter.
He licks his lips, squeezing your hand lightly. “I haven’t given up hope.”
Not wanting the universe to hear you this time, you whisper, “But what if we can’t? Would we still be together?”
Jaeil blinks slowly, thinking it over or maybe carefully choosing what to say. His pause makes you hold your breath to the point of feeling lightheaded.
“I don’t know,___. My family would be heartbroken. What I know now is that I love you enough to get through this.”
He doesn’t know?! And he loves you enough?
Your heart drops a little, and while you don’t pull your hand away like you want to, you do loosen your hold.
A tray comes between you two. “Order 46?”
You and Jaeil both scoot back from each other to make room for the burgers and fries. You quietly thank the worker before setting your food aside. Minutes ago you were ready to scarf down the burger, but now it could probably serve as leftovers for the week.
Not knowing how to continue the conversation, you shake your head. “I think we’re better off accepting it and learning how to move on.”
You look at Jaeil to see if he heard you, but he didn’t seem to have. He enjoys a fry before saying, “My mother said something about a really good in vitro doctor transferring to your hospital? She saw it in the newsletters they send out.”
Your blood runs cold.
“Um… yeah, he’s mainly around for labor and delivery. I don’t know if he’s still doing in vitro.” You scratch your nose. For some reason, you hold back that the doctor is Beomgyu. If Jaeil knew, he probably would think Beomgyu being the doctor would work out better in your favor.
He wipes his fingers with a napkin. You’re glad that at least one of you guys has an appetite.
“Would you be able to find out? Maybe we can try that?”
“I don’t know, Jaeil… I-it’s really invasive, I don’t know if I’m ready for it.” You shift in your seat, folding the tray liner over your food, ready to grab a box to put it in and dip.
“Please.” He tries to hold your eye contact. “Imagine if we can have a baby. My parents already promised me they’d help give us a huge wedding, even help build us a house.”
But only if we can have a baby, right…? You now know that’s the only way. Jaeil and you weren’t engaged, and you don’t think he was going to propose soon either. You guys spoke about getting married and creating an amazing future together, but lately it’s become more and more clear that it’s only going to be possible if you have a baby.
“I’ll try to ask him about it. No promises, he’s usually… uh, unavailable.”
You give him your best attempt at a smile before getting up to grab a to-go container.
Thinking back to your last conversation with Beomgyu, you throw your head back in shame.
Scratch that. He’s going to be extremely unavailable.
The bag with your leftovers bangs against your leg carelessly as you drag your feet down the hallway of your apartment. You didn’t want to go to work tomorrow. Just thinking about working next to Beomgyu induces a migraine. Maybe the universe will be on your side (ha!), and you’ll earn a couple of days of not seeing him at all? Oh, but there was the whole asking him about IVF deal. Now you needed to find someone else to ask because you burned the bridge between you two earlier.
A jingle of keys catches your attention, and you look up to see a tall figure at the neighboring door to your apartment. You narrow your eyes finely until Soobin comes to focus.
Soobin, who knew Beomgyu transferred and decided not to warn you.
You bite the first syllable of his name. No, if you shout now, he’s going to lock you out of his apartment. You need a different approach.
Plastering a smile on your face, you swing your arm as you stride over. “Hi, Soobin!”
At the sound of your bright tone, he jumps, dropping his keys. Lucky for him, he’s already opened his door.
“O-oh hey, __.” He turns into the apartment, bumping against the door and doorframe. You hadn’t made it yet, so you continued to act nonchalant.
Blowing away the strand of hair that fell from your face, you say, “Hey! Got some leftovers from Downtowner, wanna share?”
“That’s okay,” He shakes a hand, now wedged between the doorframe and the door. “Think I’m going to shower and sleep.”
“Long day for you guys in labor and delivery?” You make it to his door, gripping onto it in case he decides to close it, not minding that the bag now hangs at your elbow.
“Erm…” His eyes are screaming in fear as they study yours. You tilt your head and raise an eyebrow, waiting.
“It was b-busy, yeah… I mean I don’t – I’m not sure since I never leave the ultrasound room.”
“Never?” You ask through your teeth and phony smile.
He winces, whispering, “… You found out, didn’t you?”
You drop your smile, taking a deep breath to let him have it, but Soobin acts fast and shoves you back.
‘Ah!” You shriek as you lose your grip on the door and stumble back. Soobin takes the chance to close his door, and you hear the click of the deadbolt.
“Soobin!” You smack the door, placing your ear on it. “Soobin, open the door right now!”
You don’t get a response, but you know that he’s just on the other side of the door waiting until you leave. You won’t.
“Soobs, if you don’t open the door, tomorrow the whole department will find out that you have an anime girl figure collection.”
“No, __, please. I’ll never live it down.” His muffled plead is heard through the door.
Pleased with yourself, you laugh through your nose. Half of it was also remembering that he had those figurines.
“’Kay well…” You trail off like you had no other choice but to humiliate him.
You hear the door unlock. Standing back, you wait until he comes out of his apartment. As he steps out, he groans.
Snatching him, you drag him over to your apartment.
“Please don’t hurt me.”
“Soobin, when have I ever?”
“You’re looking like you might this time! Please hear me out first-“
“Soob!!” Ari calls out as she emerges from around the corner with three boxes of pizza and a bag of breadsticks on top.
“Oh-” She frowns, a wrinkle between her eyebrows, confused with seeing your grip on Soobin’s arm while rushing to unlock your door. “Do I want to know?”
Your door swings open and you point at Soobin. “In!”
“Two against one? Cowards!” He points at you and then Ari as he backs up into the room. “Don’t forget that I can scream higher than you two can!”
“I’M the coward? Me?! Okay, Soob.” You roll your eyes at him, helping Ari with the boxes of pizza and placing it on the kitchen island.
You walk around and turn on the living room lamp, the soft warm glow overtaking the harsh white light from the buildings and billboards outside. It drove you crazy sometimes, but it was a price to pay to live in the city close to your hospital. With a huff, you jump onto the couch to turn the dial to close your blinds.
“No witnesses,” you tell Soobin as you hop off and head for the pizza that Ari has already helped herself to.
She drums her fingers against her mouth and shifts her eyes between the two of you. “Oooh this is going to be good, I just know it. What did you do, Soobin?”
Sounds come out of Soobin’s mouth, but he fails to begin a sentence.
“Actually, pause!” Her hands go up, and she looks at you. “Bitch, tell me what the fuck that was about with you and Dr. Choi first or I might combust. I’ve been waiting all DAY!” She lets out a tiny squeak, the anticipation eating her.
“Dr. Choi…?” Soobin leans against the bar stool. “Dr…?”
“Dr. you-know-who.” You snap, piercing him with your glare.
Ari gasps through her nose as she stretches the cheese from her pizza with her mouth. “You know him too?! Oh oh oh.” She laughs like a maniac, and you know it’s because she think she’s confirmed some wild theory about you and Beomgyu. “Is he your EX?!”
At the same time, Soobin asks, “Beomgyu?”
You pretend to hurl loudly as Ari does a lap in the living room.
“No.” You answer Ari when she comes back to the table, her eyes still wide.
Soobin snorts and shakes his head, telling her, “Worse.”
She makes a face like she ate something sour. “So, he’s not? Okay, so maybe it’ll make what I’ve stolen far less weird.”
Scooting her stool away from the island, she reaches into her tote bag and pulls out a crumpled piece of paper.
Okay, at least it wasn’t something like an entire box of hand sanitizer wipes like last time. And we’re talking about a box of 9 individual boxes. She flattens out the paper on the surface of the counter and flips it over. Both you and Soobin jump back when Beomgyu’s face greets you.
Soobin looks at her like she’s crazy. “No, that’s still weird and I-im scared. Why do you have that?”
“Why not? Jk. Everyone was going crazy for it in the break room and I kind of got fomo? I dunno.” She smiles like she’s stolen the Mona Lisa rather than an almost-out-of-ink printed photo. “He’s a little ripped because I pried him off Nora’s hands.”
“No problem. He’s going to be my new dart board anyway.” You lean into your palm and reach for a slice of pizza. “For the record, we didn’t date. We had a more special relationship.” Tilting your head back, you take a big bite of your favorite pizza – Chito’s pizza. You guys frequented so much that the Chito would put an excessive amount of cheese as a gift.
“They were our Selena Gomez and Justin Bieber.” Soobin whispers loudly to Ari.
“Excuse me?!” you mumble while chewing. News to you.
Soobin gains an appetite and picks up his own slice of pizza. “We loved you, we loved him, the best outcome would be if you got together, but we knew you two would be toxic together, get it?”
“Oh shit.” Ari teases, intrigued to know more. In true Ari fashion, she gets easily distracted, singing Justiiiin as she breaks into Beauty and the Beat. Soobin excitedly joins her, the two getting more hyped as they dance in their seats. You were jealous how the two of them could sing so flawlessly. As expected from two former choir kids.
You hide your smile, trying to remain serious. “So, exactly how long have you known he was transferring, Soobs?”
Soobin stills. “You’re not going to believe me, but I was surprised when he showed up at the hospital too. He reached out in May, I think? To check if I was still working here. Told me the director offered him a position, but he said he wasn’t sure about it. I overheard the director talking to administration saying he refused so I didn’t bring it up to anyone.”
Refused? What made him change his mind?
“Did they up his pay? I bet they offered him higher.”
He shrugged. “I mean… probably? All Gyu told me was he transferred over because he was doing more of what he wanted to do here.”
“What was he doing before?” Ari asks.
Soobin stands up and stretches while tossing his napkin in the garbage can. “I don’t think he was working at an actual hospital before. Now he works at one and gets his own office.”
You groan as you go to your cupboard for some glasses. Juice, energy, or wine?
“____, It won’t be that bad.” Soobin walks into the living room and throws himself onto the couch, selecting your Omar the Bear Squishmallow to hug from all your plushies on the couch.
“If he keeps it professional,” you grumble. You had settled on the Zinfandel, pouring it into the glasses and then offering it to each of them. “I don’t need him turning the workplace into uni all over again.”
Ari heads over to the couch, and you follow her. She lifts Soobin’s legs up to take the spot next to him, letting him put his legs back over her. You drag out the beanbag from the corner and fall into the well-loved seat, accidentally spilling a drop of the red wine onto your shirt. Better than the floor.
“Did you two ever…?” Ari asks you while sipping her glass.
“God no.”
“Really? Not even a little flirting? A crush? A right person wrong time?”
“Nope.”
Soobin squints as if trying to remember back. “Come on, ____. You expect me to believe you hated each other the whole time?”
“I don’t expect you to believe it.”
“Right, I don’t know about that.” He rolls his head over to his glass, his arm holding the glass as it rests over the couch headrest.
You dart your eyes at Soobin.
“There was that one time … actually, I shouldn’t say it.”
“What.” You and Ari say in sync.
Soobin is quiet for a while as he debates whether to tell you guys. Your heart beats rapidly in fear.
“Remember when we all got in the car and you had to sit on his lap?”
You raise an eyebrow. “Yeah…?”
You won’t forget it for various reasons. You were the last one to show up to the parking garage, needing to change out of your lab clothes. Being the only one with a car at that time, Taehyun volunteered to take you all to the outdoor theater just outside the city instead of everyone taking the bus. The problem was that there were six of you and only five seats.
Taehyun and Yunjin were seated at the front, while in the back sat Chaewon, Soobin, and Beomgyu. Since you were the last one that meant that you needed to go on someone’s lap. And for some reason, they all settled on it being Beomgyu?
Soobin wasn’t a choice because he had sprained his ankle climbing off his loft bed during the night. Though, you just needed to borrow his lap, so you didn’t know what his ankle had to do with it.
During this time, Beomgyu and Chaewon had decided to break up after giving their relationship a try for two weeks. Feeling gloomy, Beomgyu sat with his hoodie over his head and no juice to fight you. It made your tantrum look worse since you were the only one with a problem.
“Chaewon, sit on my lap!” She was lighter than you. If you sat on her lap, her legs would go numb.
“Get in the car, ____!” Yunjin smacked her arm behind Taehyun’s headrest as she emphasizes your name.
“Please?” Taehyun added in softly.
“I’d rather-“
“We already bought your ticket.” Yunjin and Soobin said at the same time, Soobin’s head peeking from next to Beomgyu’s. Beomgyu just stared at you.
Pulling your skirt down, you shut your mouth and climbed onto Beomgyu’s lap, lips pressed into a tight line. Pulling it down didn’t help. You still felt his jeans against your skin but didn’t want to adjust yourself because then you’d be squirming in his lap.
As you closed the door, Beomgyu’s arm went around your waist. You stilled while he found a comfortable way to hold you. Startled, you turned to look at him, ready to be annoyed. He wasn’t paying attention to you. You don’t think he really knew what he was doing. With his airpods in, he stared out the window, looking so sad. Over a relationship of two weeks? Did he wear his heart on his sleeve? Unlike him, you took the high road and didn’t make any smart comments.
You remember looking down at you over his lap, his hand, his converse and your docs. It was a strange feeling, you didn’t want to understand.
Why was Soobin bringing it up now?
Soobin bites down on his giggle before making his finger go up. You almost spit out your wine.
Ari gasps, slapping his legs. “What?!”
You give him a look, setting down your glass. “No. Now I know you’re lying.” You would’ve felt it. Soobin’s just embellishing the story as he gets tipsier.
“Swear. I’ll leave out some details because It’ll make you mad, but I saw you guys. And he kept getting one the rest of the night.” Soobin swears to Ari, finishing his wine.
“What details…?” You feel your cheeks heat up, frowning deeply.
Soobin leans forward. “Not telling.”
“Tell me!” Ari begs him.
“His hand was rubbing her leg, and she was letting him.” He spills.
“Slut!” Ari shrieks ready to burn you at the stake.
“Soobin, shut up.” You can feel the warmth radiating off your face. You weren’t sure if it was because Soobin was saying it or if it was a real memory, but you recalled the moment Beomgyu’s hand moved to your thigh after Taehyun hit a curb. Instead of moving it back to your waist, he stroked your thigh with his thumb. His thumb reaching a little higher each time but never reaching under your skirt.
And you let him.
Your chest rises and falls quickly, just as it did in that moment. Why did you let him?
“Well then answer this.” Soobin sets the glass down and lays his head over the arm rest of the couch as he combs his fingers through his hair. “Where did you two disappear to during the wedding?”
You freeze. “I – we weren’t together. I went to the bathroom, the hell I know where he went.”
“Mhm, for an hour?” He twists the end of his hair. Ari crosses her logs on the couch, invested.
“I drank enough much!” You combined I drank enough and I drank too much.
Soobin narrows his eyes on you. “Tell the truth, ___.”
You bluff, grabbing a squishmallow that had fallen on the floor to place over your lap. “Nothing! Nothing happened. What do you think happened? Since you have such a creative imagination!”
“Something that doesn’t involve talking.”
“Whatever you want to think Soobin. I’m done.” You sink further into the beanbag, burning a hole at the painting of you and Jaeil on the wall.
He pivots his legs off the couch, shaking his head.
“Hmmm…” Ari twirls a strand of her hair around her finger. “Suspicious… but, we’ll drop it.”
Tell me when he leaves, she mouths quickly.
“Good. It was years ago anyway. Now, he has a girlfriend and I have Jaeil.”
“Beomgyu has a girlfriend?’ Soobin stands up and grabs the hem of his shirt as he lightly shakes it to cool his body down.
“Confirm for us.” Ari demands, taking over his spot on the couch. She lays over her arm and closes her eyes.
He hums in thought. “Now that you mention it, I think he’s seeing someone, but I don’t think they’re dating.”
Ari points to herself. “What I’m hearing is that I have a chance. If he’s not your ex, and you’re going to hate him anyway, I might as well date him.”
“Good luck,” you laugh dryly, “Just be warned, he’s a serial dater.” Womanizer.
“Don’t care. I just want to be one of his girls.” She sighs. “When’s the next hangout, Soob?”
Yeah, when’s the next hangout, Soobs? So I can schedule to work a back-to-back shift that day.
He yawns, heading toward the door. “I think Sakura said we should go to that festival? Downtown? With the adventure park?”
Ari holds up a thumbs up in the air. “Cool. I’ll be there. Make sure to invite Beomgyu, pleaaaaase. No plus ones.”
You don’t say anything, having no intention of being there. If Ari wanted to get involved with him, then so be it. After all, it won’t be long before she’s on your side.
Soobin salutes as he walks out.
Closing your eyes, you try to think about more pleasant things. But between this conversation, your lunch with Jaeil, and seeing Beomgyu there isn’t anything peaceful in the day that is worth revisiting.
A loud bang echoes in your apartment, followed by several knockings.
Ari jolts up while you don’t budge. “What is that?!”
“Soobin’s shower.” You mumble, drifting to sleep.
“I don’t think that’s normal.”
You open your eyes to see her scratching her head.
You try to drift back to sleep but Ari leans over the couch armrest to look down at you. “Ah-ah-ah… tell me about what really happened during that wedding.”
“Nothing happened.” She wasn’t going to buy that. “Okay, fine. Wanna know?”
She nods her head enthusiastically.
Your lips suddenly feel dry. You lick them before telling her, “The truth is that we got in a-an argument – worse than we’ve ever gotten before – and took it outside the reception. You know, to not ruin Taehyun’s wedding night? I didn’t want to tell Soobin because he had begged us to behave for just one night, and we couldn’t keep that promise. Sorry, not juicy?”
She smiles, but you can tell she’s disappointed. “No, I get it. What did you guys argue about?”
Threading your fingers through your hair, you try to continue to tell her the truth as much as possible. “Taehyun has a really pretty cousin, Eunah. And Beomgyu couldn’t help himself, he had to flirt with her – desperately, if I might add – and I kind of called him out. I would’ve stayed out of it, but Taehyun had asked them all not to do just that. It was only a few hours and Beomgyu thought with his pants rather than his mind. I caught him with her and went off on him when she ran off. I called him all kinds of names. He did too. Anyways, that’s all…”
She frowns. “Did he ever put his hands on you?”
“No,” your voice cracked. “It wasn’t ever… physical.”
“Good. ‘cause I don’t take that lightly.” She rests her head on the armrest and closes her eyes. “I’d kick his ass and get him fired.”
“Y-yeah, thanks.”
You continue to stare at the ceiling as the room spins, and you swear you can hear how hard your blood is pumping through your body.
Because that was a lie.
It did turn physical.
Just not in the way she thought.
If one more person asked you about Beomgyu, you were going to give the hospital one more admission like you get commission from it. While you hadn’t run into him, his name still traveled around your department, haunting you, like a ghost of him.
He had become so popular in a matter of a few days at the hospital, you’d think he was the only guy in the entire building. The nosies (as you like to call the nosy nurses) all wanted to know how you knew Beomgyu. Were you a threat or an asset? They needed to know.
It became so annoying that you started to mess with them with your replies.
“How do I know him? Oh, we’re best friends. We hold hands and go skipping in the garden every day. Please join us next time.”
Tired from your rounds, you sit in your office and rest with your head in your hands. You hadn’t eaten all day, and the headache was screaming for you to find the time to hydrate and eat something.
Rest and some peace and quiet sounded way better.
Feeling a tap on your shoulder, you huff.
Layla, one of the sweetest nurses in the department, snaps back her hand as if you burned her with smoke out of your nose.
“Oh, Layla, I’m so sorry! I thought you were… someone else. Is everything okay?”
“Sorry, ___. Today’s been busy for you, and I know time is so scarce for you doctors. I shouldn’t have interrupted you. Here, I’ve brought you a small snack. Please enjoy it.” She sets down a cup of mixed fruit, gently patting the lid to make sure it stays in place.
She’s too sweet. You shake your head at yourself and give her a reassuring smile. “Thank you. I definitely need this. I’m getting crabby.”
You open the lid and pick out a strawberry to eat. When the sweetness burst in your mouth, you sunk in your chair with gratefulness. Holding up the container to Layla, you offer her to share with you.
She plays with the ring on her finger and shakes her hand. “Thank you. I grabbed one for myself earlier. I actually was hoping to ask you a personal question?”
You set the cup down and fold your hands on your lap. “Anything! Go ahead.”
“You’re close with Dr. Choi Beomgyu, right?”
If you were a balloon, you’d deflate.
“Actually…” You start, but you notice something about her expression. Layla is happily married, and she wouldn’t be the type who would become infatuated by a pretty face. She was asking for a real reason.
“We’re… close.” You work about a few meters away from each other, so no lies were told.
She releases a sigh and has a seat in the chair next to you. “Do you know if he’s seeing patients that are staff? For in vitro?” She whispers In Vitro as if it’s a secret underground procedure. “I’m too embarrassed to go over and ask. Dr. Im Nayeon also works there, and you know how she is. Everyone might end up hearing and… Well, I guess everyone will end up hearing, huh? Mark and I have been trying without any luck, and we’ve decided this would be our next option. It’s cheaper if we can get this done at the hospital.”
Your heart hurts hearing that Layla is also struggling. She loves Mark with her whole entire heart. You’ve met Mark and he’s also a great guy. They would be the most caring parents in the world. She’s practically the mother of this department.
Now probably wasn’t the time to tell her haha, just kidding. We actually aren’t even friends and after our last conversation, he’d probably stomp on me like a cockroach.
“U-um,” your voice quavers with the zero confidence you have. “I’ll try my best… to catch him today.”
She surprises you with a giant hug. You nearly choke with how hard her collarbone is crushed against your neck.
After she leaves, you sit in your chair and try to think about what options you have.
Option 1: Swallow your pride and apologize.
Option 2: Be a professional and just demand the information as you would for any other patient.
Option 3: Offer a 2-for-1 deal. He gives you this one favor and you’ll grant him two.
You go with the second option where you have less to lose.
Scanning your badge, you enter labor and delivery. The air shifts as soon as you step inside. Several staff give you the nastiest eye. Either they are still overhearing rumors about the two of you or Beomgyu told them about what you last said to him. The latter is very likely.
Greeting them with a silent hello, you walk over to his office. He wasn’t inside. There was a chance that he was delivering a baby, too. You move away before anyone catches you (if they did, you’d say you were delivering something to Soobin). With nothing to deliver, you head over to the breakroom to see if you can find something to hold to make your story more convincing.
Right as you step into the break room, your whole body feels as if you stepped off the ledge into cold waters upon seeing him. He’s sipping on iced coffee while leaning against the counter, listening to Dr. Im Nayeon, who has a matching iced coffee in her hands. Your eyes shift between the cups to double-check they’re from the same place. Did they go together?
Despite being married, she keeps putting her hand on his arm while giggling at whatever Beomgyu was replying to her.
Uh, HR?!
They were so busy looking at each other, they didn’t notice you. You also didn’t give them much time too, making sure that you stepped out as quickly as you stepped in.
Nayeon of all people?! That would make sense, actually. They’re two people that hate you.
Meditating in your head, you walk lazily back down the hallway. There was nothing in your hand so if anyone stopped you, your only excuse now was to say you needed to poop and had to use the bathroom away from your department.
Someone brushes past you, leaving behind the scent of clean linen and lemongrass. Your eyes lift up from the ground to see Beomgyu has walked past, turning into his office with his hands in his lab coat.
You tap your arm. There’s no way he didn’t know it was you.
Do you suck up your pride and walk back in there or do you go disappoint Layla?
Gathering the energy from all the witches behind their desks, you lift your chin up and walk over to his office.
Beomgyu’s scrolling through his computer, so focused he doesn’t move or acknowledge you in the doorway. Tilting your head, you lightly knock the back of your knuckles on the doorframe.
He doesn’t look up.
Oh, okay, so he is ignoring you. It wasn’t just your imagination.
Your confidence starts to leave you. Well, don’t you look like a fool.
“Dr. Choi.”
He halts his typing to briefly glance up at you. He shifts in his chair, leaning toward his opposite hand and using his finger as an anchor to hold his cheek as he returns his gaze to his monitor.
“Do you need me for something, Dr. __?”
Gulping down the nerves, you nod. “I do.”
He wheels away from his computer and folds his hands on his lap. No smile.
“Regarding IVF…”
He tilts his head, waiting with the same expression that reads I’m only listening to you because it’s my job.
“…I have this friend…” You hate how you stutter the sentence out, the confidence tank reaching empty.
“Glad you’re making friends considering how full your list is.”
“…actually, a patient of mine,” you bulldoze over him, not letting his sly remark (deserved) get to you, “has some questions about IVF.”
“What kind of questions?”
“About the process and if it’s right for her.”
Beomgyus eyebrows knit together. “I would advise against it.”
“W-why?”
“Patients? Your patients just gave birth and have a baby in the NICU. They’re asking about IVF?”
“Not to make you feel like a jerk or anything, but some of my patients have had their baby in the nursery for months. How soon they want to have a baby is none of our business, but them not being able to have a baby is our business.”
Wow. How did you come up with that so fast?
Beomgyu drops his intense gaze, taking a moment to himself.
“’Kay. What room are they in? I can go talk to them.” He sits up, logging out of his computer.
“No!” You stop him as he was about to get up. He squints his eyes at you.
“I- they’re not comfortable with a male doctor. I told them that I would get them the information.”
“And you’re doing an amazing job.”
You almost pounce on him. You touch your lab coat to remind yourself how hard you bled, sweat, and cried for it that it’s not worth losing your license over a few punches.
“I’ll send Dr. Im, then.”
Nayeon?! Has she completed her fellowship in REI? Are they working together now? An unsettling feeling sets over your stomach, making you nauseous. Layla’s right, if Nayeon finds out something, then the entire hospital will find out. If you don’t tell them the patient is Layla, then you’ll have to cover for her. That means confessing there’s no patient or saying it’s you. And if you say there’s no patient, they will assume it’s you anyway.
But aren’t you curious, too?
“Forget. I’ll just take these.” You grumble as you snag pamphlets off his wall. What did you expect? Talking to him was always hopeless. Stuffing half of them into your lab coat, you walk off.
The nosies give you pity glances. Yeah, looking around desperately for Beomgyu and then walking out of his office disappointed probably doesn’t look so good for you.
Well, fuck.
You push through the doors and shake your head. At least you got the information for Layla, and yourself. Though, you couldn’t go through with IVF at your hospital. Not when your two biggest haters wouldn’t have your best interest at heart. You open up the top pamphlet and take a look. The cover has a pregnant lady smiling from ear to ear.
This isn’t going to be you, anyway.
Flipping to the next page, you read about the process. You don’t hear the footsteps behind you. Beomgyu’s “Hey” causes you to startle. The pamphlets fly from your hand and scatter all over the ground.
“Shit.” You bend down and gather them all together. “What?!” You snap his way.
He bends down and helps pick up one, holding it out for you.
You snatch it from his hand and stand up. He follows, his face unreadable. It causes your stomach to feel uneasy again.
You lower your gaze.
“Have your client write down all her questions. I’ll swing by your office before you leave to answer them. Deal?”
You furrow your brows. Bending his head down, he catches your expression. A corner of his lip curls up, and his eyes smile for him.
You feel your irritation melt away. Why is he doing this?
Sucking in your breath, you agree, giving him a gentle push on his chest. “T-thanks.”
He purses his lips pridefully, looking smug because he’s got the upper hand from accepting your implied truce and for the favor you probably will owe him.
“This isn’t going to be free, is it?”
He scrunches his nose with a wide grin. “You know me so well.”
He flicks the tip of your nose with the side of his finger before turning away with a laugh.
Ugh, Option 3 it is then.
Nervously looking at the time, you realize you were going to miss catching Layla to ask about her specific questions. You were finishing up your last round with a family who was taking their baby home.
With a smile, you watch as Ari checks the car seat to make sure the baby is strapped in correctly. She gives them the okay and the dad cheerfully carries the car seat.
The mom thanks you and Ari with a hug.
“Thank you, girls. You guys are phenomenal. You must have kids of your own.” She means that as a compliment, so you don’t let your mind consider it as anything otherwise.
‘Not yet…” You say with a hopeful smile. Ari glances at you with one of her own.
‘Bless you.” The mother gently rubs your arm before waving goodbye and thanking all the staff she sees along her way out.
You keep the smile, waving to Ari before heading over to your office.
Beomgyu wasn’t in there. In a few minutes, you were going to leave whether he came or not. Should I have even trusted in him?
Taking a seat, you grab one of your small notebooks and try to think of what questions you would ask or research.
While twisting the end of your hair, you came up with a couple such as What if you didn’t freeze any of your eggs? What if you have no eggs left? Could you have a busy schedule like you do now?
Could you go through with this?
Your heart speeds up. Definitely not with Beomgyu.
He’d learn all the horror about your body and he’d get a front row view of your vagina. You chew on your lip thinking about how he’s seen millions by now and he would 100% point out every flaw yours had.
‘Is this the list?”
He has one hand on the back of your computer chair and the other resting on the desk as he leans over to read the list. When his voice hits you, you snap back against him, startled.
He laughs. “That would be a valid reaction if you were the only one that works here.”
“Jerk.” You relax once your mind understands that it’s just Beomgyu and not some psycho. Though sometimes there’s a fine line between the two.
He turns his attention to the list and eyes the pen in your hand. Was it obvious you were the one brainstorming them?
“Just trying to remember all of her questions…”
“Okay.” He reaches for the other computer chair and rolls closer to you, until your knees bump into one another.
You take a deep breath, grabbing the list to put on a clipboard. You turn to give it to him but find him carefully studying you.
When you glance his way, his eyes drift up from somewhere else in your face to your eyes.
You hate how his eyes aren’t leaving your face.
Womanizer. Womanizer. Womanizer.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what, ___? Do we need to admit you today?”
You snort. “I don’t know it just feels like – Forget it.”
“It’s just professionalism, sweetheart.”
“Don’t call me sweetheart. I’m your colleague.”
“You’re right, there’s nothing sweet about you. Should I switch to cocopuffs?”
You frown, confused.
“Cause your acting cuckoo. Gimme the list.” He takes it from you and studies it.
It’s your turn to watch him now. His soft hair is a little messy, like he’s been running his hands through it all day. Which makes sense as a doctor. The ends of his hair falling over his eyes. Can he see through them just fine? Or is it time for a haircut? He didn’t need one, longer hair suits him.
The more you stare at him, the more jealous you become. Because Beomgyu is pretty. Not “pretty for a boy”, but “pretty”. You think about how Jaeil compares. Jaeil is handsome but in a more sporty, rugged way. Not in the Can I write poetry for you? way. You guess it makes sense for the kind of history Beomgyu has. If you caught everyone’s attention, would you also shop around before settling one person?
“How much do you understand the process?” He asks, and you blink back into focus. Hopefully, he didn’t catch you staring.
Clearing your throat, you tell him everything that you know about IVF, including parts that you researched or learned about in med school.
“If she doesn’t have any frozen, that isn’t an issue. Do frozen ones sometimes work better? Not necessarily, they’re more fragile. In her case, we’re going to give her medication to stimulate her ovaries. Hopefully, we find multiple eggs to retrieve.”
“Is it painful?”
“A Pap smear is painful. This is going to be more painful, yeah. But she can be sedated. It’ll take maybe 20? 30? Minutes. Her husband will need to be present to take her home while she recovers.”
“She’s not married.” You blurt out. You weren’t talking about Layla anymore.
“Hm?” Beomgyu blinks twice.
“You just assumed she was married, not everyone is married.”
“Are you just going to nitpick what I’m saying or are you going to actually listen.”
“Sorry, you’re right. How long until you know if any of the eggs would work?” You ask.
He taps the pen against his lips. You take a mental note to never chew on it like you usually do as a bad habit. “The eggs will be fertilized that same day, so we won’t have much time before we need to transfer the embryo. There’s the option to freeze them, but it won’t be cheap.”
“Noted. And then?”
He sighs, dropping the pen. “Then we hope it works. It may be the first of many cycles.”
Your face falls. “Many cycles… and the beginning of it would be…. The shots again?”
Feeling a ghost of a pinch in your lower abdomen, you flinch. He nods, looking at how you’re playing with your hands.
“Don’t worry, it’s a small, thin needle.”
“In the stomach?” You point to where it'd go.
Beomgyu leans in closer. “Right about here.” He gently lifts your shirt to run a finger over where you’d be injecting yourself.
Your breath hitches. He gently rubs his thumb over the soft sensitive skin, the warmth of his touch spreading like a wave. No—it was more like a jolt, triggering the memory of the wedding night when, mid argument, his lips had crashed into yours, after you had taunted him. You had protested in his mouth, changing your mind, but as soon as you tasted him, your mind shut off, and your body reacted. Your hand slipped into his button-down, while his hand slipped up your dress.
You gulp and narrow your eyes. “I know where the stomach is.”
“Of course you do, Doctor.” He gives you a lazy grin like he knows how he just messed with you. His eyes shift to the fruit cup on your desk, his smile faltering.
“Boyfriend?”
“No, a patient.” You breathe.
“I’m curious. Where did Mr. Prince Charming take you yesterday?” Again, he gives you a confusing look. His eyelids have dropped a little, but his stare remains intense. It makes the hair on the back of your neck stand.
“None of your business.” You narrow your eyes at him, trying to fight back his stare.
He snorts lightly. “I’m starting to think he isn’t real.”
“I don’t care what you think.”
“Really?” He gives you a look that tells you he doesn’t believe you. “Then, why won’t you tell me where you went for lunch? Are you ashamed? Was it The Downtowner.”
You bite down hard on your lip. “There’s nothing wrong with The Downtowner.”
He grins, proud that he got it right. “I would’ve expected a whole sit-down restaurant with lobster and butter.”
You scoff. “In an hour? Is that what you would do?”
“No, I hate seafood. But I’d find something else to do with that hour.”
You tilt your head, your eyebrows knitting together.
A sly smile spreads across his face and only then do you get it. Your eyes widen.
“Beomgyu!” You look around to see if anyone else is overhearing this conversation.
He chuckles, reaching over to steal a grape. “Don’t think anyone would be as bothered as you, if they heard.”
“Let’s ask HR, why don’t we?”
He tilts his head. “And what are you going to say? Choi Beomgyu is making effective use of his time?”
“You always are, huh.” Like every moment before lecture.
He beams. “You should know.”
He holds your gaze for a couple of beats. “Excuse me?” You question him.
Is he also referring to his pre-lecture makeouts… or…?
“Please, I know how much you remember Anatomy.” He pokes your nose, and you swat his hand away, trying to prevent your cheeks from flushing.
Right, he wouldn't remember anything else, would he?
“Quit it. Why are you always touching me.”
He stares at you for a second before a mischievous gleam twinkles in his eyes. “Ooh. I’ve figured it out.”
You didn’t like the way he was lighting up. It was like he finally discovered you had buttons that he could press to get the perfect reaction he wanted from you.
He chuckles internally as he shakes his head.
“What?”
“This is too intimate for you, huh? That’s why you’re uncomfortable?” He sits up to lean closer into your space. You lean back.
“So, you acknowledge I’m uncomfortable, great.”
He tilts his head back with a groan. “Blahblahblah. It’s different with you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Not everything has to have a meaning.” He stands up, heading toward the exit. “I’m leaving before you berate me some more.”
He goes for an orange slice and upon noticing it’s the last fruit in the cup, you spin in your chair for it. “Hey, that’s mine!”
“Take it.” He holds it from his mouth.
If he thinks for one second you weren’t going to get it from him, he was wrong. You yank half of it out of his mouth, and he laughs as he eats his half.
“Good girl.”
“I’m going to kill you.”
“Careful, HR might hear you.” He winks, biting down on his tongue as he turns out into the hall.
𓆈 scene: you are getting pounded on the dining room couch in the shared apt and your roommate walks in
𓆈 wc: 1.2k
𓆈 tw: pet names - bunny, profanities, dirty jokes, my commentary - third person omniscient, cheating? ntr, they all wanna fuck reader except tyun, blackmail, soobin is sneaky, mention of double penetration and sexual innuendos but not explicit smut, not rlly a trigger but intentional misspellings
𓆈 note: didn't knaurr i had it in me but here we fkinh gaurr
ʏᴇᴏɴᴊᴜɴ
Yeonjun had a habit of surprising his roommate with small joys that breathed life into you such as this ice cream, he bought all so in a hurry and when he was about to tiptoe discreetly to not threaten you with his presence, he was met with a shadowy figure instead pumping His cream into you.
First came a bolt of shock, preferrably 200 bolts, then a glimpse, a sigh, a stare and all so mouth gagging excitement bubbled in his chest as he watched more and more. He made out the figure's fine abs in the dimly lit room and for a moment he wasn't sure whether to be jealous of you or him savouring every inch of you, one he was dying to do for let's say a solid 2 month pipeline. He would be torn between the thrill of a possible ntr (one he never realized he had it in him) and the sheer disappointment of his loneliness and jealousy like damn! A whole damn year and he couldn't get laid with you but a white guy did it in one week. It wasn't until 5 minutes into his presence had you realized someone was watching you.
So you did what any sane woman would do, and that is "the show must go on". The guy kept going at it, immersed in the sweet of your cookie, pulling onto your breast. It was sweaty, steamy and very convenient of a sight from the crook of the corner from the main door had his ice cream not melted at the heat of Yeonjun's palm. But he was well adjusted to it by now, hence the pretty scenery could go on about 20 minutes then you appeared half shock, ignored his determination to stand in silence and wore your outfit back. Yeonjun eased himself in the acting too, mumbled a breathy sorry for disturbing and highfive'd the guy as he went out of the picture.
You will think this was the end of a great night, to which now your surprise, Yeonjun shamelessly blurted "Do you think I can do better than him?" with his hands on his neck, mouth laced with a sly grin.
sᴏᴏʙɪɴ
Now you'd think he'd be the type to let out a monstrous scream at the nudity, a man much known to be disgusted by PDA. No, he found himself meditating before calmly closing the distance and checking out the position of you two.
He clicks his tongue a tch tch "This is not how it should be done" and begins watching with a side eye like the victorian noble lady he is, with imaginary handcrafted lacy fan coating upto his bangs. What's worse than some scolding is his bitter judgement and a full length lecture of how the man should eat you out. To this, yes the man abides. Who can turn down revelations from a tall wise man who seems way too serious and way too into this. "No no.. look, from this side" "Slowly, you're not a goblin" "Sigh lemme show you how it's done" were the sentences he said with a relaxed expression as if he were genuinely trying to help you out.
He did make it out to be a practical life lesson with Soobin sesh till the point of a double penetration where he lets loose, wild, hoarse voiced "fuck yes, slut" "tell me how you want it", you realized yeah this went down horribly wrong.
ʙᴇᴏᴍɢʏᴜ
Oppurtunist, in one word. He just has to make everything a way to get under your nerves or on your clit, you decide. Will say he didn't mind at all, he doesn't even care but the moment he goes to his room, prawnhub intro will leak through the thin door. Say he doesn't mind at all but bring that up as an inside joke every single time. You're eating? He's giving dirty eyes. "Yeah eat well, bunny. You need energy after a good fuck" You're doing laundry? He's smirking. You're feeding your cat? Absolutely nothing sexual but he's eyefucking you. You want him to forget allat and strike a deal then he's the epitome to blatanly ask for it. "Yeah sure, if you sit on my lap. Maybe I won't bother you anymore" says in a half-joking manner, leaning on the doorframe. Few minutes later he's serious about it. Sitting on the couch, same place where you were fucking another guy, legs all spread and tapping on his thighs, eyeing you up. Honestly it's not such a losing deal so you would, sit on him. Both hands roaming all over your body and his pendrive poking your back, he'd have a cocky grin like he fucking earned it.
ᴛᴀᴇʜʏᴜɴ
Burnt out, limp and exhausted Taehyun comes home, waiting for that sweet moment his aching back will finally touch the feathery bed. The first scene he sees is this, this fuckery.
A frech kiss session on his freshly cleaned couch, the one, only he is in the charge of cleaning, actually like most things since he thinks you are a bum, he's too impatient and he definitely does it way better than you. His washed couch cover, steam vaccumed crooks and cranies and 3 puffs of antiseptic were being destroyed by two sweaty animals in heat. The sight! Oh the sight devastated Taehyun like a grocery bill at the very last few days of the month before getting his salary. He doesn't care what you do in your room, bathroom whatever but really a shared space? This is where he watches his low cardio, strengthening muscle build workout routine perfect for pros while eating 5 eggs 2 strips of bacon high protein breakfast.
"Filthy fuckers" will be the last scream you'll hear from him before he beats you both with a nearby dumbbell, hides your body and burns the couch on fire to germinate. That is unless you apologise 127 times and mortgage your kidneys till you buy him a new one.
ʜᴜᴇɴɪɴɢᴋᴀɪ
Supportive but cunt of a man Hueningkai is ready to leave the moment he sees you two. "Oops, sorry sorry. Enjoy" then he comes back to get his supposed charger. 2 minutes later he's cooking ramen in the kitchen telling you he's just hungry and not to mind him. Half an hour later he's watching you like a netflix series chowing down the ramen. He'll assure you it's okay, ignore his presence, think of him like a cockroach till he gets rock hard and you don't know when exactly he started stroking it. You don't argue the sight is simply impeccable, as for someone who likes pathetic men. The way he is trying hold his stifles and whimpers, raised intensity of his movement and the arousing sight of your innocent happy little roommate getting off to you stirs something so raw inside you that you'd let go of the man fucking you balls deep to run ride kai. Kai begged and asked for it as you give the man sorry eyes and ride that precum covered tip, one you were trying to fuck for decades but was too shy to. The lonely man would either have a breakdown or join from the back or you three have to evacuate the whole building, all depends on state of the gas stove kai forgot to turn off after making his late night snack.
he was met with a shadowy figure instead pumping His cream into you.
what happened to the ancient arts of hi, hello, im extremely sorry for subjecting you to this horror?
he watched more and more
BOY IF YOU DONT CLOSE YOUR EYES AND GET THE FUCK OUT!
a white guy did it in a week
first of ALLL it's a white guy erm…. and omg yeonjun i feel your sentiment sigh. I had a friend who didn't listen to me beg for months but did it the moment a (white) guy asked 🙄🙄
the yeonjun one… it's safe to say I'm sort of traumatised by both of them ( three of them if we include the white guy). LIKE WDYM THE SHOW MUST GO ON AND YEONJUN'S COMPETITIVE ASS RISING NOW TF?!?
one sentence: they deserve each other.
Now you'd think he'd be the type to let out a monstrous scream at the nudity, a man much known to be disgusted by PDA. No, he found himself meditating before calmly closing the distance and checking out the position of you two.
… he is one fuckin weirdo isn't he? WHY ARE YOU MEDITATING THERE?!? BRO YOU NEED GOD
and begins watching with a side eye like the victorian noble lady he is, with imaginary handcrafted lacy fan coating upto his bangs.
this is so goofy im also imagining huening kai (the token white guy, the symbol of victorian lady) being the to pass him fan and gossiping about the sloppy technique like trifling aunties with nothing else to do.
No no.. look, from this side" "Slowly, you're not a goblin" "Sigh lemme show you how it's done"
what a loser lmao he's giving this instructions from the side omg
THE WAY I'M TELLING YOU I SCREAMED ALL THROUGHOUT THE BEOMGYU ONE omg bro is a fuckin nightmare fuel like imagine living with that gremlin?!? forget breaking the lease, I'm bringing his mother AND an exorcist TO SHUT HIM UP!!!
you know what? I sympathise with taehyun so so so much, like home is a sanctuary of peace but if anyone say their temple is getting used and abused like that—I understand the murderous intent and I STAND WITH TAEHYUN! HE DID NOTHING WRONG lmao but imagine him bashing their head with the dumble and then going okay enough for arms for today.
THE HYUKA one!this is so fuckin goofy but then AGAIN THIS IS HIS APT TOO HE HAS THE RIGHT TO DO ALL THOSE THINGS LMAO but damn i did not expect the ending… bro really is milking the free content he was getting huh?
all of these were soo zany and funny lmao like some of them made me almost call the cops but it's all in good humor (except beomgyu bro im watching) but i had such a good time reading this I couldn't not stop laughing esp the beomgyu and the taehyun one (both of them memorable for veerry different reasons). yeonjun is almost pitiful, and soobin, bro just needs to get laid maybe hyuka too lmao
office hours — professor!soobin x gradstudent!reader
cw. chubby!reader, reader is an adult grad student, minimal age gap, clear consent, petnames (babe, baby, honey, darling, good boy), mommy kink, face sitting, unprotected penetration, creampie, cunnilingus, handjobs, ending is cheesy, "epilogue" of sorts involves christmas vibes, kissing, please lmk if i'm missing anything. NSFW/MDNI
notes. i would feel irresponsible if i didn't acknowledge this is a romanticized portrayal of a professor-student relationship. while the relationship in this story has clear consent multiple times, irl relationships like this can be inappropriate and exploitative bc of the authority imbalance. you deserve a healthy, consensual relationship. prioritize ur well-being and autonomy. relationships should be built on mutual respect, equality and clear consent. this is a work of fiction and should be read as such.
shoutout to @silvergyus for sending the prof!soob pic <3
wc. 11.6k
“Which brings us to Le Chatelier's Principle in real-world chemical reactions,” Professor Choi says, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “This will be review for most of you, so I won’t go into too much detail.”
Chemistry is your favorite thing in the world. It’s real-life magic. And Professor Choi sees it that way too. His olive green chinos are wrinkled from walking from his office. The sleeves of his white button-down are pushed up so he can write freely on the whiteboard while his burgundy tie sways with his scurries.
Sparks of passion fill his eyes as he lectures. And he never disappoints with his cheesy jokes. Although you seem to be the only one that laughs at them—maybe you’re the only one that gets them. Not many students in his class are the experts in chemistry you are. You took it as a break from your intense course load and the elective credits are a nice bonus.
Most of your professors are so old they barely know how to turn on their laptop and are so deep into their tenure they’ve given up. If you bothered showing up to their office hours, you’d be lucky to find a professor, let alone a helpful one. So you’ve become a frequent visitor in Professor Choi’s office hours, talking about advanced chemistry he can’t wait to teach but it’ll be at least five years before he can. In the meantime, he’ll settle for nerding out with you in his office for a few hours every week.
“Great class today, everyone,” he says. “Have a great weekend and don’t hesitate to visit me during my office hours with any questions!” That sentence started out as a normal speaking voice but ended up a shout over the shuffling of the desk chairs and backpacks. You’re typically the last one out, but you save your questions for his office hours tomorrow.
-
“Hi,” you say, lightly tapping your knuckle against his office door.
Turning around in his chair, his lips form a pout in surprise at seeing you. “Were you waiting outside? Sorry that meeting ran a little long—” He shuffles to organize his desk.
“That’s okay.” Adjusting your bag on your shoulder, he rests his hands on his thighs and looks up at you. Did he just look you up and down? Don’t be ridiculous.
“What can I do ya for?”
“Right,” you start. “Can I…?” You ask, motioning toward the spare chair, waiting for his nod before sitting. “You know Professor Vaughn’s class?” You barely catch it, but his eyes roll. Professor Vaughn is the worst professor you’ve had. Boring, harsh, impatient. It doesn’t help he teaches one of the most complex forms of chemistry. “I’m not really getting this week’s content and was wondering if you could help me.”
“Of course.” He smiles. And it’s devastating. The sparkle in his eyes and those dimples. Craning his neck to look at your notes riddled with red question marks, he nods. As soon as he sees the title of your notes, he says, “Let’s think about this from a quantum mechanical perspective. If we assume that the π-complex is forming, we’re talking about a stabilization due to delocalization π-electrons, right?”
In what feels like no time at all, an hour has passed and the conversation has been the complete opposite of Professor Vaughn’s lectures. Questions led down rabbit holes, leading to other theorems and more questions. As he glances up at you through his glasses, there is an undeniable tingle in your stomach.
It’s not like you haven’t noticed how attractive Professor Choi is. He’s tall, lean but undeniably strong, he has the most perfect silky black hair and the prettiest brown eyes, and his pout—indescribably cute. And again—those goddamn dimples. He’s the perfect mixture of sexy, handsome, and pretty. You’d never think of doing anything with a professor, but you can’t help your mind wanders during the slower lectures.
How long have you been staring at each other in silence? Too long probably. He clears his throat. “Well,” he says, looking at his watch. “My office hours have been over for a few—”
“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry,” you say, stumbling as you stand, attempting to gather your things as quickly as possible. But he shakes his head, trying to shrug it off.
“That’s okay,” he says. “I, uh, I just have my emails waiting for me.”
You nod, shoving everything into your bag and heading out the door. What was that? You’re probably overreacting, you think to yourself. He’s charming because of his looks, there’s no way he’d— No. Don’t even finish that thought.
-
"How is it that someone who scored the highest in my theoretical chemistry exam is turning basic lab work into a spectacle of incompetence?" Professor Vaughn boasts over your right shoulder. No doubt his thick eyebrows are furrowed.
As your hands tighten around the test tube, you know exactly what to do—you always do—but everything slips through your fingers in his class.
"I’m trying to get the reaction to stabilize," you stammer, eyes darting between your hands, the chemical reagents lined up on the table, and your notebook.
Professor Vaugn’s expression hardens as he steps closer, looking down his nose at your station. "Trying is for high school sophomores. If you’re still trying, you’re behind."
Taking a deep breath, you carefully add three more drops to the mixture but the reaction goes wrong. Again. A plume of white smoke rises from the beaker, and the liquid turns an unexpected, muddy brown.
"Unbelievable," Vaughn mutters loud enough for everyone to hear. Everyone knows you’re the best student in your class. Well, everyone except Soren, who’s so jealous of your intelligence they can hardly stand it. They simply smirk. "I expected more from you."
Your heart sinks. You checked those calculations three times. Maybe it’s your shaky hands. Or the pressure of him looming over your shoulder. Or the other stuff on your mind.
"Are you going to sit there and guess again, or would you like to double down on failure with your next attempt?" Vaughn sneers, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"I’m not guessing, Professor. I—"
"Can’t manage a basic reaction?" Vaughn interrupts with his icy voice. "I’m beginning to wonder how you even made it into this program."
"I’m perfectly capable. The solution is just—"
"Wrong. Yes, we’ve established that." Vaughn’s lips curl into a patronizing sneer. "Maybe chemistry isn’t the field for you if this is the best you can manage." That got everyone’s attention—it would be an interesting sight to see you fail. It so rarely happens. Sure, you’ve been doubted before but have always proven yourself. Today would be no different.
You take a deep breath and count to yourself, One. Two. Three. Four. Five.
As you block out Vaughn’s piercing gaze and the weight of the other students’ eyes, you carefully remeasure the chemical, adjusting the proportions this time, methodically double-checking your work. You add the reagent once more, slowly, and watch as the solution begins to shift.
A moment passes. The reaction stabilizes and the solution turns a clear, pale blue.
"Finally," Vaughn mutters. You don’t even have to look at him to know he rolled his eyes. He turns to walk away but pauses. "Barely acceptable. Next time, you won’t be given the luxury of so many failures."
-
Bursting through the door upon dismissal, you can’t get to the restroom fast enough, barely making it to a stall before tears stream down your cheeks.
“One. Two. Three. Four. Five,” you whisper to yourself.
Sometimes, chemical reactions need to be dealt with instantly, but that’s an overwhelming amount of pressure. You give yourself five seconds before you absolutely have to deal with it. Same thing here. Cry. Count to five. Wipe your tears and move on.
But it’s difficult to move on this time. You’ve counted to five a few too many times today. But the only person you want to talk about it with is—
Professor Choi,
Are you available to meet me in Lab 270 tomorrow afternoon? I’ve been struggling with some reactions and could use some help. I’ll be there from 2:00—4:00.
If not, no worries!
Sniffling, you hit send on your email app, shove your phone in your bag and head home.
The next day drags on and on. Did he even get your message? Expecting an empty lab, you’re surprised to find Professor Choi waiting for you behind a laptop wearing a cute tweed jacket with suede elbow patches. His eyebrows are furrowed as his focused eyes study the computer, but they brighten at the sight of you.
Initially surprised by your confusion, he squeezes his eyes shut and says, “I didn’t respond to your email, did I?” He’s already got the lab station set up. How long has he been waiting on you? “So, how’s Professor Vaughn’s class?” Did someone tell him about yesterday? God, you hope not.
“Fine,” you deadpan. Shaking your head, you say, “I’m sorry…I’m just kinda stressed.”
“I can go if you need some time by—”
“No,” you say, softening your tone. “I’d really appreciate your help.”
And he’s more than willing, letting you ask whatever you want, never interrupting or talking over you like most of the men in the program. He gives you space to explore ideas and theories, listening closely instead of answering everything for you.
And he’s so damn sexy when he’s the one doing the ranting. The way he talks with his hands, ones that are so big with fingers so long you wish he would wrap around your—
“Shut up.”
“Excuse me?” He asks.
Oh shit, did you say that out loud? What a fucking nightmare. “Uh, sorry, just…talking to myself. Too many thoughts racing around the ole dome.”
A slight pout forms on his lips as he continues his rant. Now, the only thing you can think of are his lips wrapped around your—
“Ah!” Your hand slips toward the Bunsen burner and, great, now you’ve got a nice burn on your thumb.
“Oh gosh, are you okay?” He stands quickly. “Let me see.” His fingers graze your palm, igniting a fiercer burn than the actual flame just did. “Run it under cold water, okay?”
In the meantime, he straightens up your station before meeting you at the sink. “Is something wrong?” His words make you jump. “You seem distracted.”
That’s all it takes. The floodgates open. You rant about the sexist piece of shit Professor Vaughn and his power moves to intimidate you when he knows you’re the best student in the program. About how embarrassed you were in lab yesterday. Last semester when you raised your hand to correct an equation on the board and he gave you a firm talking to about respect after class.
He watches you carefully, handing over a towel for your hands as you take a steadying breath, fighting back tears.
“Did I ever tell you why I started studying chemistry?” he asks. You sniffle, shaking your head. “My grandfather. He was a baker.” His voice softens, and you look up to find his eyes full of kindness. “Every Saturday, he’d make me work in his bakery. I didn’t mind—it felt like magic, you know? But really, it’s science. It’s all precision, measurements, timing.”
A smile tugs at his lips. “Once, I tried baking a cake for my mom’s birthday, followed his recipe exactly. Measured the flour, the sugar, the cocoa. When I pulled it out of the oven, it was hard. Flat. I was sure he’d be disappointed, calling it a waste of time and ingredients. I was terrified. But he looked at it, smiled, and told me to try again the next day. When I asked why it didn’t work, he said I needed to ‘feel my way through it.’”
You sit there, the sting from your burn now fading, but your heart’s still aching, wanting something from him—a hug, a kiss, even just a pat on the shoulder.
“If I’d gotten it right the first time, I’d never know what overmixed batter looks like. Or that I like more cocoa than he did. Or that you should coat berries in flour.” His smile creeps up to his eyes. “Seeing how failure could make you better—it made me curious. I wanted to understand why some things worked and others didn’t, why I needed to feel my way through it, to get into the details.” He makes eye contact with you again. “That’s why I went into chemistry. Baking taught me the magic is in the little things—if you’re willing to screw up and keep going.”
Nodding, you smile back. His words hang in the air for a moment, like they’re meant to settle, but something’s missing.
“All I’m saying is, its okay to fuck things up, okay?” he says, his candidness drawing a chuckle from you. “How else would you learn?”
-
The world’s drained of color—only hazy shades of grey and beige are left. Your palms press against a cold marble countertop with the faint sound of running water echoing in the distance. The reflection of the mirror looks like you, but not quite. The woman in the mirror has her lips painted a dark, sultry brown, a shade you’d never choose. And the outfit is far too dressy for a lecture. Shadows fall where there shouldn’t be any.
The hallways are unfamiliar, yet you know it's the same building you visit almost every day. It's blurry, like you’re walking through a memory that isn’t yours.
You look down at the saddle shoes on your feet clicking against the tile floor, unnervingly filling the emptiness. It feels like someone else is controlling your body but you don’t question it. You can’t. Your hand raises, knuckles brushing a wooden door before it creaks open on its own.
On the other side of the door, Professor Choi faces a green chalkboard. Has that always been in his office? Hurriedly scribbling down equations, he glances between the board and the notebook in his hand. When he looks over his shoulder at you, his eyes soften and a slow smile spreads across his face. “Come in,” he says gently, setting his notebook aside. His voice wraps around you, making the room feel smaller, closer. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
Your spine tingles. “I know,” you reply, but the words sound hollow, like you’re speaking from somewhere else.
“Here,” he suggests, holding a piece of chalk out to you. The way he gestures toward the board is magnetic. As you take it from his hand, your fingers brush his. “What do you think of this?” An unfinished equation waits to be solved. His presence looms behind you, close but not quite touching as you reach up to solve it. Your heart pounds, every stroke of the chalk on the board heavier than it should.
“Impressive,” he murmurs, his voice low, rough around the edges. You turn to face him and he’s closer than expected, his warmth radiating against your skin. The air is thick with something unspoken. You step closer, tentative at first, then quicker, more certain. Your lips almost brush his, but he pulls back, his breath catching.
He looks down, your name a whisper on his lips, soft and pained. “I—” His eyes flicker up to meet yours, then fall back down like the weight of your gaze is too much.
“What?” You ask, your voice barely more than a breath. Your eyes dart between his, lingering on his tempting mouth. He leans in again with desire in his eyes. He wants to kiss you. You can feel it. And for a moment you think he might.
But he pulls away, his forehead nearly resting against yours. “I don’t think we should be doing this,” he says, his voice strained, as if saying the words is physically painful for him.
“Why not?” The question slips from your lips before you can stop it, frustration and longing lacing your tone.
His hands flex at his sides, like he’s fighting the urge to touch you. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to, or—”
“Why would I feel like that?” you interrupt, your voice impatient. Your heart races, pounding in your ears, drowning out reason.
“I’m your professor,” he breathes out like it’s a curse. His words only fan the flames of the tension building between you. There’s nothing wrong with that, you think to yourself. It’s not like you’re fresh out of high school—you’re a grad student, close to starting the same PhD he earned barely three years ago. He’s no more than five years older.
“I don’t care,” you insist, stepping even closer, your lips a breath away from his. “I want you to kiss me.”
His eyes darken, his resolve faltering as his gaze drops to your lips. “It’s a mistake,” he whispers, but his voice trembles with indecision, trying to convince himself more than you.
“Make the mistake,” you urge, your voice soft but sure. Your hand reaches for his tie, tugging as light as you can just to bring him that much closer. “You said it yourself, it’s okay to fuck things up.”
There’s a beat of silence, so thick it feels as though the room itself is holding its breath, waiting. And in that moment, the space between you seems to collapse, the weight of everything unsaid pulling you closer.
The millisecond before your lips touch, you breathe awake.
You bolt straight up, feeling around your soft bed sheets, breathless as your heart pounds from the vividness of it all. For a moment, you linger in the feeling, brushing your fingers over your lips, feeling the warmth of the almost kiss. But reality sinks in and your stomach drops.
Reaching for your phone, you check the time. Great, it’s almost time for his class. But there’s no hazy world to hide in. Skipping class might be an option but an exam reminder drags you out of bed.
-
Trudging across campus, your stomach sinks lower with each step. How can you look him in the eye? Dropping your bag to the floor with a thud, you hang your head low. Let’s just get through this exam and get outta here.
“How’s your hand?” Professor Choi’s voice shakes you out of your thoughts. “Sorry,” he chuckles, holding his hands up. “Didn’t mean to scare ya.” Looking at you like you’re the cutest puppy he’s ever seen, you can’t bring yourself to speak, but you hold out your hand. The second his fingertips touch yours, you flinch and jerk it back.
“Um—” you start. “Better, thanks.” Turning away from him, you distract yourself with a random notebook from your bag.
“...You okay? You shouldn’t be nervous about the exam.” When you look up, you’re met with eyes that appear…hurt?
“No, it’s not that.” That’s not a good answer. “Just…” What would you even say? I had an incredibly vivid—and delicious—dream about you last night and now I need to know how your lips feel in real life? “Cramps.”
“Ah.” He nods and leaves you alone, awkwardly walking to the front of the class to make some announcements and general good wishes before the exam. With your fist pressed to your chin, you refuse to look up, hanging your head low even as he slides you your copy.
There’s a bright green post-it stuck to it with a note, It’s okay to fuck it up! Your heart races as your eyes dart around searching for him. When you find him, he gives you a soft smile. You return the smile but rush to unstick it before anyone sees, storing it in your notebook for safe keeping.
-
As you return to your apartment, the post-it stares back at you like you’re the guiltiest son-of-a-bitch in the world. It’s practically calling you a whore. And you can hardly take it anymore. You can’t bring yourself to face him for class a few days later—although skipping feels like a cardinal sin. Soon enough, though, your email dings.
From: Choi Soobin, PhD
I noticed you were absent from class today. I hope everything’s okay. The lecture notes are attached for your reference. Feel free to stop by my office hours with any questions.
Professor Choi
Did your heart just flutter? Why are you walking toward his office? When you knock on the door, he stands—more like stumbles—to greet you, “Hi!”
“Hi, Professor Choi…” You linger in the doorway, clutching your notebook tight to your chest. “Sorry I missed class—”
“Is everything alright?”
“Yeah—”
“You’re not overwhelmed with coursework, are you?” His eyes search yours, and there’s a softness in his voice that makes it hard to look away.
“No, no, I’m alright. I just…had a migraine this morning,” you say, shrugging slightly. “It’s gone now, though.”
He nods, easing into a warm smile. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.” His gaze doesn’t waver and the intensity makes your pulse quicken. “So, I’m guessing you’re here to go over questions from the lecture?”
“Actually, it’s Professor Vaughn’s class I’m struggling with. His lecture today was…brutal.”
“I’m shocked,” he says sarcastically. “The man’s got a gift for making simple concepts sound like Greek.”
“Exactly,” you laugh, the tension in your shoulders easing. “I thought it was me, but he seems to take pride in making everything harder than it needs to be.”
“Trust me, it’s not you,” he says, a glint of warmth in his eyes. “He’s terrible. And annoying. And boring. And I’d tell him that.”
You raise a brow, skeptical. “You wouldn’t.”
“Well…” He breaks into a grin. “Maybe after I reach tenure. Though he may be retired by then.”
“Or dead,” you say matter-of-factly. He looks at you awkwardly then you both laugh, genuinely. There’s an ease to it.
He gestures to your notebook. “Alright, let’s see what we’re dealing with.”
-
“I can’t believe I’m laughing at that,” you say, a giggle escaping your lips.
“You always laugh at my bad jokes,” he replies, staring at your face a little too longingly. If you were anyone else, he might find some excuse to touch you. Maybe brush a piece of lint off your shoulder, lightly touch your arm while he laughed at something you said, or something as casual as a fist bump.
If he were any other guy, you’d be much more obvious, making it crystal clear you want him to kiss you right now. But you can’t. You don’t even know how he thinks about you. You’re probably just another student to him.
“Well, those are all my questions,” you say, awkwardly packing your bag.
“Yeah, you can, uh…head out…” he trails off as you start to rise from your seat.
You’re searching for something to say, something to let you stay just a little longer. But nothing comes. He watches you walk toward the door, the silence hanging in the space between you.
“Pens!” His voice suddenly burst out, loud enough to make you stop mid-step. “They, uh—I went to a conference last week and they gave me a ton,” he says, scrambling to gather a handful from his desk.
You take them, your fingers brushing against his in a way that feels far too intimate. His eyes lock with yours, the touch sending a ripple of tension through you. “But you’re, uh…picky about your pens, aren’t you?” He asks, his voice softer now, almost unsure.
Laughing quietly, you say, “Yeah, but…that’s okay.” Your words are heavy with subtext you can’t bring yourself to say out loud. “Well, goodbye.” You offer him a smile, stepping back toward the door. “Thanks again.”
“Yeah. Goodbye,” he says, but his feet shuffle forward as if he’s moving without thinking. Awkwardly reaching for a handshake, he realizes your hands are occupied. Instead, he reaches around you for the door handle, but he gets a tad too close and your brain scrambles.
Before you can hold yourself back, you drop the pens, letting them clatter to the floor as your arms wrap around his neck. Your lips meet his in a rush, warm and soft. While your eyes close to savor the feeling, his widen in shock before he relaxes into your touch and wraps his hands around your waist, pulling you closer.
It’s everything you’ve been holding back—unspoken feelings unraveling in a heartbeat. His lips move against yours with a hunger that surprises you, the world melting away as you lose yourself in the moment. You feel weightless, your pulse racing as his hands grip your waist a little tighter, as though he’s afraid to let you go.
When you finally break apart, breathless and dazed, he presses his forehead to yours, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “You’re never gonna use those pens, are you?” he asks, his voice low and rough, like he’s trying to anchor himself in humor, trying to bring himself back down to earth.
You laugh, shaking your head. “No,” you admit, your heart still pounding. “They’re garbage.”
Before you can think, you kiss him again and this time, he doesn’t hesitate. His mouth crashes into yours with an urgency, like he’s wanted to kiss you since the second he laid eyes on you. His lips are soft, but his kiss is demanding, making up for all the lost moments between you. For those few minutes, nothing else matters—you bask in one of the greatest kisses either of you have ever had. But not for long.
Reality catches up too quickly. You pull away suddenly, breathless and wide-eyed. “Oh my god—” you gasp, backing up, your fingers graze your lips trying to make sense of what just happened. “I’m so sorry—”
“No,” he interrupts quickly, shaking his head. “Don’t be. I—” He’s stumbling through his words, just as lost as you are but neither of you regret it. “I wanted—”
“That was…” You can’t even finish your sentence. It was everything. Too much, too fast, too real. But you can’t take it back.
“I—” He’s trying to find the right words, to reassure you, to tell you he felt it too, that he wanted it just as badly. But he’s as flustered as you are, his voice rough and unsure.
“I’ll just…go throw myself off a bridge now,” you mumble. You can’t even look at him as you make a beeline for the door, your face burning with embarrassment. You think you hear him say something, but the blood rushing in your ears drowns it out.
You leave the room quickly, your heart about to burst through your chest, trying to process what just happened. The kiss lingers on your lips, a mix of exhilaration and terror swirling inside you. It’s too much to handle.
But, hey, there’s one bit of good news. At least he kissed you back.
-
What the fuck are you supposed to do now? Drop his class? It’s too late in the semester for that. And you need those credits. Wait until the end of the semester to talk to him again? Can you go that long without his lips on yours again?
Back at your apartment, you rummage through your books to find the university’s code of conduct, hurriedly searching for anything related to “appropriate relationships,” “faculty-student relationships,” “consensual,” blah blah blah, whatever the university has coded sleeping with a professor.
The University strongly urges those individuals in positions of authority not to engage in conduct of an amorous or sexual nature with a person they are, or are likely in the future to be, in a position of evaluating.
Your eyes read over the words, “strongly urges” once more. Not totally against the rules, you suppose. Even if you did wait until the semester was over, you’d need to report it. You wish you could talk with him about it, but bringing this up is tricky. Is it moving too fast? You can’t text him, you don’t have his number. And using your student email to send a message to his faculty email that says, “Oh, by the way, I checked the rules and we’re in the clear to have sex!” is a terrible idea.
Maybe one kiss in his office doesn’t mean anything. Oh, but it was everything.
-
After much deliberation, you convince yourself to attend his class a few days later. You’ve brought the code of conduct along, as well as a bright pink post-it sticking out of the book. To avoid any form of small talk with him, you wait outside right until the start of class.
Along the way to your desk, you silently plop the code of conduct on his desk and scurry away. When you work up the courage to look up at him, he’s flipped to the marked page. Highlighted on the page is the paragraph that “strongly urges” people in positions of authority not to sleep with students.
He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed. The message couldn’t be clearer, he thought. You’re practically telling him to leave you alone. But when he finally reads the post-it, his heart flutters. Written in your handwriting, it says, It’s okay to fuck it up! complete with a smiley face.
As much as he tries to fight it, he glances up at you to catch your gaze. And just as the slightest smile appears on his face, a big one appears on yours. You hide it with your palm as you start at the blank page of your notebook. Blinking, he shakes his head and begins his lecture. But how can you concentrate now?
You’ve gotta give it to him, he delivers his lecture perfectly. If it were you, you’d barely be able to think. Hell, you barely can throughout the whole thing.
Now that you’ve gotten that smile of permission, you finally let yourself daydream.
Has his ass always been that cute?
Has he always been that tall?
Has his voice always been that deep and sexy?
You don’t even know what he’s talking about, but that’s okay, you can always stop by his office hours. “What do you think?” He asks.
Oh shit, he’s looking at you for an answer. He can always rely on you to keep class moving along when everybody else is dead silent. You shake out of your thoughts, panic-reading the board to come up with something. It's similar to your discussion you had the last time you went to his office hours. The time that ended in that gorgeous kiss. Throwing together an answer, his eyes brighten as he cheers, “Exactly!”
Oh my god. He’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. You could just gobble him up.
-
“So, I suppose we should talk about…” Professor Choi trails off, leaving the sentence hanging in the air like it’s obvious what he’s getting at. And it is. But you stay quiet. You wanna hear him admit it. You raise an eyebrow, playing coy.
You decided to press your luck by visiting his office outside scheduled office hours—right after class—to simply test the waters and gauge his reaction to the code of conduct and that kiss…that incredible kiss.
“You know…” He gestures vaguely between the two of you, sighing like okay, fine, I guess I’ll say it. “I like you and you like me, right?” His voice dips just slightly, enough for you to notice the hesitation. “Unless I’m totally misreading—”
“No! You’re not…misreading anything,” you’re quick to say, along with a chuckle. Phew—he was worried there for a second. So goddamn cute. “What do you wanna talk about?”
He exhales a small laugh, but his smile is strained, cautious. “I want to make sure you don’t feel…weird about this.” Hand sliding nervously along the edge of his desk, he traces the wood grain before his eyes flick up to meet yours. Truth be told, he’d never do something like this with a student. Never want to make anyone feel pressured. But he never thought he’d feel like this. Giddy and blushy like you’re his first crush.
“Why would I feel weird?” You tilt your head, genuinely curious. You’ve thought about this—about him—far too much for any of it to feel weird.
“I’m just terrified you feel like you need to do something about this.” You’re taken aback, confusion visibly etched across your face. “You know, because I’m your professor or because I’m in the department and I know your plans for a PhD here.” His voice softens, vulnerability creeping in. “I don’t want it to feel like I’m pushing you into anything.”
“I don’t,” you say gently. “It’s not like that.”
He nods, though the tightness in his jaw doesn’t disappear. “Because if you ever even remotely feel like I’m pressuring you, I want you to tell me. Immediately. I mean it.”
“No,” You shake your head, almost too fast. “I mean, it doesn’t feel like that. Not at all. I’ve thought about this…about us, a lot.” Your voice falters for a moment as his eyes widen, softening in a way that makes your stomach flutter. You weren’t expecting him to look at you like that—so open, so relieved.
His fingers twitch as if he’s resisting the urge to reach out to you. “Yeah?”
You nod again, more confidently this time. “But I think we should wait until the semester’s over. Before we…you know…do anything.”
He smiles gently and leans back, visibly more at ease. “I think so too.”
But you didn’t realize how fucking difficult it would be to get through the last six weeks of the semester. Every class you sit there, thighs pressed together thinking about the dirtiest things you want him to do to you. Every office hour you went to, you could practically swim through the thickness of the tension between you two.
It didn’t help how cute he was being. Post-its he’d leave on every exam of yours—You’re gonna do great! You’ve got this. Trust your instincts.—encouragement no other student got. You kept every one of them in your bedside table drawer.
When finals week finally arrives, it wasn’t just about exams; it was about counting the hours until you could finally be with him. Or at least talk to him like he wasn’t your professor. As he handed over your final exam, the familiar green post-it note was stuck to it: Happy Finals Week!
Your internal scream was so loud, you’re worried your classmates heard it. You’d pre-written a post-it to stick to it once you returned the exam. It had your phone number, a smiley face, and the words: Since you’re not my professor anymore.
-
After a full day of checking your phone every twenty seconds, you started to give up. Was he just playing you? Did someone else see the note? Did he change his mind? But finally, you receive a text.
hi! this is soobin (professor choi lol). i was wondering if you wanted to get dinner or something?
soobin!! omg yes i would love to get dinner with you :) how’s tomorrow?
how about right now?
if you want, of course! no pressure
we can totally wait until tomorrow
it’s up to you
You squealed into your pillow, kicking and giggling like an idiot. Should you be flirty back?
i can be ready in 30 min. 364 oakridge drive. it’s an apartment building- i’ll meet you downstairs.
be there in 45 :)
-
Like a perfect gentleman, Soobin meets you at the passenger door, swinging it open with a charming smile before gently closing it behind you. The slow walk up to his front door makes your stomach stir. He has to fumble through his keys to unlock it.
Once inside, he slips his shoes off quietly, revealing cozy patterned socks that make you smile. Meticulously, he hangs his jacket on a coat tree and places his keys in a speckled clay catch-all that rests on a table next to a houseplant. As he walks toward the kitchen, he glances over his shoulder, his voice low and inviting. “Do you want a drink or something?” The warmth in his gaze makes your heart skip a beat.
You’re drawn to this softer side of him. In class, his tone is bright and dorky. In his office, it’s casual and laid-back. At dinner, it was sweet and charming. But now? Now it’s sultry, almost sexy. Like he can’t wait to be with you but would never, ever pressure you.
“Hot tea?” You suggest with a steady voice, despite the butterflies in your stomach.
“Sounds good,” he agrees, switching on his tea kettle. In the meantime, you take a look around his much neater than expected apartment.
The mid-century modern furniture is impeccably arranged—a sleek sofa, a low coffee table, and a stylish armchair with an even more stylish decorative pillow. Perfectly nurtured plants thrive around the room, adding a green vibrancy to the minimalist backdrop, breathing life into the space. A gallery wall above his expensive-looking couch features travel photos, beautiful art, and a few subtly science-inspired pieces. In the corner across the couch is a sleek electric fireplace underneath a huge TV.
“Who’s this?” you ask, your heart swelling as a fluffy gray cat glares at you through one half-open eye. Her perfectly groomed fur and regal posture make her look like she owns the place. Just then, Soobin steps into the living room, holding two steaming mugs of tea, filling the air with a warm spice.
“That’s Molly…short for Molecule,” he says. “Don’t worry, she’s sweet.”
Extending your hand toward the cat, he starts to sniff you. “Hi, M—wait,” you pause, looking up at Soobin with a teasing smile. “Molly, short for Molecule?” He nods, his grin widening. “You’re adorable,” you tell him. Has anyone ever blushed quite like he did just now?
He stares down at his feet, clearly caught off guard. “You’re,” he starts. “Well, you’re cute too.” His sincerity makes your smile grow even stronger.
“Can I sit?” you ask, nodding toward the couch.
“Oh,” his smile falters for a moment. “Yes, of course. Make yourself at home.” You plop down on his couch, settling into the surprisingly soft cushions. Molly clearly doesn’t think the couch is big enough for the two of you, so she strides over to probably the nicest cat tree you’ve ever seen.
You sip your hot tea and your body finally relaxes. As you reach to sit it on the coffee table, he politely asks, “I don’t mean to be a square, but can you use a coaster?”
“Of course,” you say, complying with the request. “So, tell me,” you begin, clearing your throat. “How’d I do on my final?” Humming, he stands to rummage through his messenger bag slumped over a dining chair. You gasp, “A ninety-seven?” Thumbing through the pages, you find a single red X on possibly the easiest question you’ve had on an exam since high school: What is the atomic number of oxygen? “Are you kidding me?”
Any attempt to mask your embarrassment is impossible. It only deepens when you look up and catch him already watching you—lips pressed tight, failing miserably to hide a smug, amused smile.
“I, uh…” You scratch the back of your neck. “I got that one wrong on purpose. You know, so as to not raise any suspicion.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, did you now?” You nod. “That was on the exam just so Toby wouldn’t get a zero.” You nod begrudgingly. “And you put 10! That’s not even close. That’s—”
“Neon,” you grumble. “Yeah I know…” you say, avoiding his eyes as he laughs playfully.
“Neon’s a noble gas and oxygen is a—”
“Reactive nonmetal,” you cut him off. “I know, okay?” You shove his shoulder playfully, but your grin betrays you. “It was a high-pressure environment. Sitting in an exam room with your professor watching you."
"I barely looked up from my laptop,” he reminds you.
"Your presence is distracting enough," you shoot back, eyes sparkling with mischief.
"Ah, so my intellectual aura threw you off?”
“I dunno…is that what you think, professor?” You ask cheekily. “Maybe it was something else.” You’ve tossed the exam onto the coffee table, moving closer.
“Like what?”
“Just…you. You’re distracting.” You smirk, the words slipping out almost involuntarily, like they’ve been waiting on the tip of your tongue.
Intrigued, he tilts his head and asks, “What about me?” There’s something magnetic in the way he looks at you—like he knows the answer but wants to hear you say it, to savor the way it sounds coming from your lips.
You hum, tracing the lines of his body with your eyes, mapping out uncharted territory before exploring it. You don’t want to move too fast, but every fiber of your being screams for more. He’s not lighting a fire inside you—he’s setting the whole forest ablaze. Sure, your imagination has been running rampant since he returned your feelings six weeks ago, but now that you’re here, he scrambles every thought.
“Your eyes…” you say while yours flick over his face, taking in every curve, every freckle, every lash. “They’re so pretty.”
A smile—small but real—tugs at the corners of his lips. The kind that’s private, meant just for you. His eyes darken as he leans in, the space between you shrinking. You glance down, noticing the way his long fingers curl around the mug handle. There’s something almost hesitant in the way he holds it. You take it from him gently, setting it atop a coaster as quietly as you can.
“Your hands…” you whisper, fingers barely brushing his knuckles, tension coiled under his skin. They’re hands that have worked, experimented, written things down—hands you want on you. Guiding one to your thigh, the squeeze he returns sends a shudder through you.
Everything between you is electric. Your breaths come faster now, more desperate. Every inch you move toward him is a test, a slow-motion collapse of restraint.
“Your legs…” A soft breathless chuckle escapes as you glance down. His lips part like he’s about to speak, but you don’t give him the chance. Boldness surges through you like a current and you hike one leg over both of his, straddling him. The shift is seismic. His hands move to your hips, gripping you, afraid to let go. The heat of his touch spreads through you, anchoring you in place, though it feels like everything around you is spinning.
“And your lips…” you murmur, leaning closer, your breath mingling with his. “Oh my god, those fucking lips.” You can’t stop staring at them, just a breath away now, soft and wet. Your pulse races.
You cup his face, lifting his chin until his eyes meet yours again. His pupils are blown wide, the desire in them unmistakable. Your thumb brushes his bottom lip, and the moment stretches, suspended. You lean in just enough to feel his breath on your lips.
“Kiss me,” you whisper.
And he does.
It isn’t tentative—it’s dam-breaking. Like he’s been starving for it, holding back for years. His lips are soft but urgent as his hands tighten around your hips to pull you closer. You taste jasmine tea on his lips, a subtle sweetness mingling with the spice of his cologne—clove, pepper, something dark and addictive.
“Holy shit,” you whisper against his lips. “I can’t believe I had to wait so long to kiss you again.” You kiss him again and he moans sweetly into your mouth. Just as the kiss deepens, he retreats, his breath ragged. “You okay?”
Nervously nodding, he says, “Yeah,” but his eyes flicker away. He tries to kiss you again, but you place your hand on his chest, gently stopping him.
“Wait,” you say, eyes searching his face. “What’s going on? Am I being too—”
“No,” he says, almost a little too urgently. “It’s not that. It’s just…” His hands fall to the couch. Bracing to tell the truth, he squeezes his eyes shut before adding, “I need to tell you something.” You sit back on your heels, still in his lap but giving him room to speak.
“What is it?” You ask softly.
“There’s this thing… I haven’t—uh…” He stumbles over the words, his fingers twitching at his sides.
“Soobin?” you ask, your voice gentle but steady. That’s the first time you’ve called him by his first name. It feels utterly…vulnerable. “Are you a virgin?” The question is delicate. Shutting his eyes again, he takes a deep breath.
“No,” he says. “Well, not exactly.” You narrow your eyes at him. What is that even supposed to mean? “It’s just…it’s been a while. And before then, I hadn’t had a lot of sex. And I haven’t had any…recently.”
“How long?” you encourage, your eyes softening.
“A year.”
You hum softly in acknowledgement, watching his confidence falter. Instead of pulling back, you lean forward, trailing slow, deliberate kisses along his neck. He trembles under your touch, a soft gasp escaping his lips, your hands moving all over his body, claiming him.
“Oh, Professor Choi,” you whisper, your voice dripping with heat and promise. “We’re gonna have so much fun.”
-
As your breath slows, you sit up and let your hand linger over his chest, feeling his heartbeat under your palm. “Tell me,” you start. “What do you like?”
“Um,” he swallows, trying to force the lump down his throat. He’s so hesitant but he finally says, “Touching.”
“You touching my body or me touching yours?”
He exhales shakily. “The first,” he says, confirming with a squeeze to your hips.
You hum against his ear. What are you gonna do with him? Tease him forever? Let him have his way with you? You ask, “Why don’t you take my shirt off for me?”
Gracing his hands over your arms, he grounds himself again before asking, “You sure?”
“I’m sure.” You nod, guiding his hands to the top button of your blouse, letting him slip it through the buttonhole. One by one, he exposes more of your skin, his heart thumping harder with each passing second. Pushing the silky fabric past your shoulders until your top half is only covered by a bubblegum pink mesh bra, leaving almost nothing to the imagination—except for the red embroidered hearts over your nipples.
After easing the shirt out from your trousers, you reach back to pull at the sleeves, letting the shirt fall to the floor. He slips his finger under one of your bra straps, pulling it to the side, but you stop him. “Wait. It’s your turn.”
Tugging on his tie, you slip it through the collar and unbutton his dress shirt. Seeing his body bare in front of you for the first time, you’re practically drooling. You indulge in running your hands all over his body, lean with subtle muscles, from his chest to the bottom of his abs.
“How come you got to touch me if I didn’t get to touch you?” He asks innocently.
“You’re right,” you chuckle. “I’m sorry.” You smile and sit up to press your palms against his and let your fingers intertwine. Your heart melts and you fear you may throw up. “Did you want to take my bra off first?” He nods. Fumbling fingers reach behind you to snap it off, letting it fall to the couch. As he sees your bare tits, his eyes widen and he lets out the cutest little Oh.
He’s hesitant to do anything. You have to guide his hands to massage your tits—and they’re the perfect size for you.
“You’re so…soft,” he says, looking up at your eyes, like he’s not sure if that was okay to say.
“You like them?” He nods eagerly. Experimentally swiping a thumb across a nipple, it hardens at his touch while you let out a sharp gasp.
“You like that,” he says matter-of-factly. “Can I taste?” Nodding, you lean forward, welcoming his lips. His body finally relaxes as he moans against your skin. Circling the tip of his tongue around your nipple, he’s teasing you. And oh my god do you love it.
One of your hands threads through his hair and you stuff the other down your pants, but he grabs your wrist softly.
“That’s not fair,” he whispers and you concede, keeping your hands to yourself. With one hand, he stuffs your tit back in his mouth while the other plays with your other nipple. His hot, wet mouth on one nipple and his teasing fingers playing with the other sends waves of pleasure through you that may send you over the edge.
If you don’t do something to ease your need, you’re not sure how much longer you’ll be able to take this. You resort to grinding against his hard cock, making his hips buck.
Lifting your legs off his, you swing around to sit next to him, palming his cock over his trousers. Desperately clawing at the waistband, you unbutton and unzip his pants, encouraging him to kick them off. He stands to slip them off and as you reach for the band of his boxers, he stops you.
“Your turn,” he whispers. And you comply. But not without a show. Standing slowly, you push him to the couch and turn your back to him. As you push your pants down, your ass looks delicious in your thong that matches your bra—mesh bubblegum pink with red trim. When you turn back, he’s fisting himself over his underwear.
“Nuh-uh, that’s not fair,” you say. Returning next to him on the couch, you feel him over his boxers and your mouth waters. Goddamn you can’t wait for him to be inside you. “Do you have any lube?” He nods and shortly returns with a barely used tube.
While he stays standing, you sit up on the couch, running your hands across his muscular thighs and perfect pelvis. Looking up at him, his eyes are bright, darting all over your body like he’s afraid to miss something. He fiddles with his waistband, flipping the elastic over softly. A small smile flicks across your lips before you tug his boxers down his legs, leaving trails of kisses along the way.
Encouraging him to sit down, you look down at his cock, long and hard and dripping with precum. Finally, you drag your fingertips up and down his cock before squeezing him. He moans like you’ve never heard a man moan before. Laying your head on his shoulder, you sprinkle kisses all over his skin, finding a spot behind his ear that makes him squirm.
He hisses and—almost involuntarily—wraps one of his hands around yours to use his long fingers to guide your hand up and down. There’s something magical about someone with so little experience telling—no, showing—you what to do with his body. It’s electrifying. He hasn’t been touched in so long that he’s desperate to get off and can’t waste time with words. But no words need to be shared. His movements tell you what speed he likes.
Snaking his other arm around you, he stuffs his fingers in your hair and clenches his fist, subconsciously tugging the strands. His lips are right against your ear, breathing rapidly and heavily and he can hardly take it anymore. You watch his chest rise and fall as he clenches your hair, moaning getting quicker, he squeaks and whines.
Hurriedly pressing his lips to your temple, you can’t take your eyes off his cock as he shoots short spurts of cum all over his stomach. It takes a moment for him to catch his breath before he gives you a sweet smile.
You don’t let up with kisses all over his body. Sprinkling kisses here and there while he cleans himself up with a hand towel he’d brought with him when he got the lube from his bedroom. Once he’s clean, he slouches down the couch.
“Will you sit on my face?” His eyes are ever so sweet and innocent, like he’s finally able to test all his fantasies. “Please…” You hum like you’re only considering it, but we all know you’ll say yes. “Please, mommy?” Everything halts.
“Mommy?”
“F-fuck—” he sits up, ears turning redder than you’ve ever seen them—anyone’s ears for that matter. “I’m sorry, I should’ve asked first—”
“No, no…” you say gently, cupping his jaw to make him look at you. You can’t help yourself—you press your lips to his again and you lose yourself in his intoxicating kiss. But you break it and say, “Keep calling me that.”
“M-mommy?” You hum. Before you give him what he asked for, you shove your tit in front of his lips. He doesn’t need to be told what to do. His plush lips wrap around your hard nipple while he thumbs the other. It feels like fucking heaven.
“That’s my good boy.” He lets out the most pathetic whimper you’ve ever heard in your goddamn life. His eyebrows furrow, looking up at you through his lashes. “Are you my good boy?”
“Yes,” he says, nodding eagerly. “Yes, mommy. Of course.”
“Soobin,” you breathe in disbelief, dropping your head back. “You’re so sexy, I swear to god.”
“Nuh-uh,” he shakes his head. “That’s you.” He smiles. “Will you please sit on my face now?” He slouches down again without waiting for an answer. “Please.” You hike your leg up to rest your foot against the back of the couch, gently hovering over him. But he wraps his hands around your hips to yank you down. As he flicks his tongue over your clit, you might be embarrassed by the volume of your moan, but there’d be no reason to.
“I thought you said you didn’t do this a lot?”
“Well,” he takes a deep breath. “This was always what I was best at.” You chuckle. “Wait, no—” he shakes his head. “I’m good at the other stuff too. I hope.” Returning his tongue to your clit, you gasp and fall forward, bracing yourself against the back of the couch. He seizes the opportunity to get fully entranced in your taste.
There's an impossible contrast—your body melts, muscles soft and pliant as you surrender to the pleasure but, at the same time, goosebumps prickle along your skin, sharp and electric. Warmth and vulnerability layered with a thrill that leaves you shivering, somehow both at ease and on edge.
But then he snakes his hand behind your ass to tease your asshole with his pinky. And it's overwhelming. Your knees are so weak you can hardly hold yourself up. The way his hands feel on your body, touching you in all the right places, flicking his tongue perfectly, moaning so temptingly along with the built up tension—it is so much. So. Fucking. Much.
It builds in your stomach—teetering on the edge and god you only hope he doesn’t stop what he’s doing. But you can’t form words to tell him that. But he knows.
And then it happens.
You feel like you’re floating—or falling may be more accurate—as your orgasm washes over you, thighs quite literally quivering around his face as you come undone on top of him. For him. Unable to hold yourself up any longer, you roll and plop to the couch and he sloppily replaces his tongue with his fingers. You make a mental note to show him exactly where your clit is later. How is it that he found it so easily with his tongue but missed it with his hand? You guess he was right—oral is what he’s best at. Your chest heaves with your deep breaths as you come down from your high, watching him smirk at you.
“Oh my god,” you say breathlessly. There’s a beat of silence. “What the fuck?”
“What?” He chuckles.
“I wasn’t expecting that.”
“I told you I’m good at it.”
“Where’s your bedroom? This couch is too small for what we’re about to do.”
Once he shuts his bedroom door to keep Molly out, he pulls you by your waist to press his bare body to yours and kisses you again so romantically it takes your breath away.
“Wow,” he whispers against your lips. “You’re so beautiful.”
“Oh my god, shut up.” You go straight back in for more kisses. But you break it— “But not literally, though. Please keep saying stuff like that.” You giggle together, slowly falling toward the bed until you’re gently laid on your back and he’s over top of you.
“Can I, like, kiss all over your body?”
“Of course,” you say. “You don’t need to ask.”
And then he does exactly what he wants. Starting at your lips, he moves to the corner of your mouth, trailing behind your ear and down your neck. The way his breath tickles your neck sends shivers down your spine and you need more, more, more.
As you lay there, simply basking in the feeling of him taking his time exploring every inch of you with the softest lips you’ve ever felt, you can’t help but be giddy. He’s tentative in some areas and eager in others. After he kisses the sensitive skin under your breast, he carefully observes your reaction. When he delicately presses his lips to your pelvis, his eyes flutter up to yours nervously.
“Soobin,” you say breathlessly. He hums against your tummy, shaky hands running up your thighs. “I need you please.”
“You need me?” You nod. “Where do you need me, mommy?” You groan, arching your back, not even knowing where to start. You need him everywhere.
“Inside me,” you say. “Please, I’ve been thinking about it for so long.”
“Have you?” He asks innocently, using his fingers to play with the folds of your pussy so casually, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. “I should be the impatient one.” But you know why he’s taking it so slow. He’s nervous as hell right now.
Aligning his cock with your entrance, he slowly pushes himself inside you. And it's utterly exhilarating. For both of you. He falls forward, framing your face with his forearms, digging his nose into your neck.
“Fuck…” He whispers shakily. Your nails drag down his back at his inexperienced hip rolls. “Oh my god, what are you doing to me?” Despite his inevitable desperation, his thrusts are controlled. He’s trying his very best at least. But his cock is so fucking perfect, you figure he’d make you feel good no matter what he does. Although, a little part of you thinks about how good he’ll be at fucking you in a few months after a little practice. Or lots of practice.
He whispers swears, your name, and mommy…over and over again. Then he sits up, looking down at your body. Awkwardly fumbling as if he wants to say something, his mouth isn’t cooperating with his brain. He slowly comes to a stop, sliding out of you and barely touches your calf.
“Can you, uh…would you mind, um—”
"Do you wish to see me on my knees? Is that it, darling?"
“Yes, mommy…please, I’ve never—”
“You’ve never had someone on their knees for you?” You ask and he silently shakes his head. “You’ve been such a good boy for me. Of course I’ll get on my knees for you.” You oblige to his request, turning yourself around and arching your back to give him a perfect view of your ass. He groans at the simple sight of your body. He swipes his hands over the swell of your ass, squeezing here and there.
He clears his throat and asks, “What do I do?”
“Oh,” you chuckle lightly. “Just get on your knees and guide yourself in. Make sure it’s the right hole,” you say light-heartedly, trying to ease the tension a bit.
But when he’s finally inside you again, it’s heaven. And he indulges in himself a bit—thrusting faster, harder, making your ass jiggle. The lewd sounds of his cock in your wetness and his hips smacking your skin makes it all the more erotic. But it doesn’t take long before—
“I like it better the other way, I think,” he says matter-of-factly. “Is that okay?”
“Of course that’s okay, babe,” you say, flipping back over and spreading your legs. And he slides right back inside you, letting his head fall back. But your tits bouncing are simply too tempting not to look at. They’re why he prefers it this way, so why not look at them as much as he can? He retreats a bit, opening his mouth like he wants to ask you something but he’s too shy.
“What is it, baby?”
“I was just wondering if you…if you could—would you want to be on top?” His tone is genuinely sweet. “Like what position do you like?”
“Missionary’s my favorite too,” you say. “But I would, hm, I would really like to be on top for a bit.” Switching quickly, you align yourself over his cock and sink down on him so, so, so slowly, letting out a big sigh of relief. “Oh my god, Soobin. Are you fucking kidding me?” You don’t think you’ve ever felt so full before. The feeling stretches all the way to your toes. “I need to hump you like crazy for a bit,” you say with a chuckle. He nods like that’s perfectly fine with me, mommy.
And you do exactly that—bounce on his cock as fast as your body lets you, relieving that built-up tension. Over the last few months, you wanted to jump his bones every time you were in the same room and that feeling never let up, like there was a tension thermometer in your body that was constantly stuck at boiling.
But perhaps it was a bit more painful for him because an occasional rut up into you isn’t enough anymore. He holds your hips to keep you in place, fucking up into you as fast as he can. Head dropping back, he groans, your name leaving his lips.
“Mommy?” His eyebrows furrow, looking utterly pathetic. “Let’s switch back. Please.” Hiking your leg over his hips, you land roughly on your back. Gently grabbing your hands, he pins them above your head, aligns his cock at your entrance, and slides inside you, rolling his hips so deliciously. As he kisses you, he swallows your moans. Trailing down your neck, he whispers, “Please tell me I’m making you feel good, Mommy.”
Your eyes roll back in pleasure and you say, “Fuck, you’re making me feel so good.”
Slowing his thrusts, he asks, “What else would you like me to do?” Smiling up at him, you rub his thighs. Waiting for an answer, he covers your collarbone in kisses, making his way back to your ear. After nibbling gently on your earlobe, he whispers, “Tell me how to make you feel even better.” Oof. Shivers.
“Rub my clit,” you say. He sits up, fumbling with his fingers. “Use your thumb,” you giggle. “Wait.” Reaching for his hand, you let spit pool in your mouth before wrapping your lips around his thumb. Sucking on it, he looks at you like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. Then he follows your instructions, rubbing your clit with his thumb while he fucks you, listening intently to every instruction, every a little to the lefts, up a little bit mores, and he never gets impatient.
Your back arches impossibly high and you say, “I’m close, babe. Don’t stop.” You rub your own nipple, but he moves your hand out of the way, wetting his thumb with his own spit before circling it for you.
Everything has been building to this moment. Staring at him in every lecture, longing for his touch. That kiss in his office was just the start of your addiction. Attending his office hours didn’t help, but you couldn’t stay away. You needed to be closer to him. To feel heat radiating off his body. To smell his spicy cologne. To watch his fingers wrap around his pen and wish they were wrapped around something else.
All of it was for this moment right here. Cumming around his cock for the first time. You can’t wait any longer. There’s a white hot burning in your belly that’s getting more furious by the second. His name leaves your mouth in a yelp before fireworks explode inside you.
Your legs shake around his waist as he fucks you through it, not changing a single thing. Overwhelmed with pleasure, you grab his wrist to stop him from rubbing your nipple to make sure it’s the most perfect orgasm you’ve ever had—not too much and not too little.
And it’s neither. Instead, it’s perfection. You knew it would be. It seems to last forever but somehow not long enough. As soon as you finish, you miss it.
Catching your breath, your vision clears up as you look up at him with a smile. He shyly asks, “How was that?”
You take a deep breath and say, “Oh my god, that was so good.” Rubbing soothing strokes up and down your thighs, you can tell he’s getting impatient. But still—he’d never pressure you in a million years.
Bending to kiss your neck again, he whispers, “Can I cum inside you?” You nod frantically.
“Please.”
“I have condoms if you want.” You think about it for a second. Really. You would love nothing more than to feel him fill you up. But it’s risky. “Mommy…” His hips slowly start moving again, encouraging a decision from you. “What are you thinking?”
“Cum inside me, please. Wanna feel all of you,” you say, rubbing his back. He smiles, pressing his lips to yours in a passionate kiss that sends your head reeling. He sits up and squeezes your thighs over and over, adoring the way your body feels in his hands. Soft and squishy and intoxicating. Licking your own thumb, you pinch and rub one of his nipples, making his mouth drop open. He didn’t even think of having his own nipples played with.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck—” he gasps. You praise him, Cum inside me, baby. You’ve been such a good boy for me. I want you to feel so good for me, okay? And he’s rutting his hips into you roughly, using your body for his own pleasure. You simply can’t get enough. You want him inside you forever and ever. “You’re…” he trails off. “You’re gonna make me cum, Mommy.”
“Go ahead. Cum for me.” Like it’s a command, his hips stutter and his cum fills you up, warm and sweet and heavenly. Swears and other inaudible words you hope are compliments spill out of his mouth. Falling forward, he digs his face into your neck once more, twitching until he comes to a stop, taking deep breaths.
You expect a warm smile to echo his warm cum filling you up but he stays put. In fact, he doesn’t move or say anything for quite some time. So much time passes that his cock has slipped out of you on its own, his cum leaking down the swell of your ass.
You finally break the silence, “Are you okay?” He nods awkwardly. “Look at me.” He shakes his head. “What’s wrong?” He still won’t budge. “Soobin, what’s going on?”
“I’m embarrassed,” he whines.
“Huh? About what?”
“Calling you mommy,” he finally sits up. “I was just caught up in the moment—I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have—”
“Honey,” you giggle, sitting up with him. “I told you I liked it.”
“You weren’t just saying that?”
“I don’t think I would’ve came that hard if I didn’t like it.”
His eyes brighten before adding, “I guess so.” It genuinely was one of the strongest orgasms you’ve ever had. Surely, he has to know that, right? But wait—
“Was it good for you?”
“Oh my god,” he’s finally relaxed a little, peppering your face with kisses. “That was the best orgasm I’ve ever had, I swear.” He stands, walking into his en-suite to get you a towel, damp with warm water. “So…” he starts awkwardly. “Should we, like, report this to the dean?”
“Is that your way of asking me to be exclusive?” He blushes as you brush some of his hair behind his ear. “Because my answer is absolutely.” You press your lips together. “Although, can we hold off for a while? Just until next semester starts?”
“Be in our own little world for a bit?” He smiles, wrapping his arms around your waist. “You’re taking a break until next semester, right? Are you working right now?”
“No,” you shake your head. “I got a bunch of scholarships to pay for school,” you say proudly.
“Why am I not surprised?”
“Because I’m the smartest person you know,” you say cheekily.
“No lectures until next semester, so I’m pretty much free.” He smiles, clearly wanting to say something more, but bites his tongue. “Can I ask you something?” You nod. “This may be moving way too fast, but do you maybe wanna spend the holidays here? With me?”
The next few weeks are a whirlwind. Both of you admit it’s too fast. But neither of you care. The fireplace roars as you decorate his Christmas tree together, wrapped presents, baked cookies, everything you could think of that ooey-gooey couples do.
And of course, nightly sex is a bonus. You simply can’t get enough of each other. And you just about lose it when you walk into the kitchen on Christmas morning. He’s standing at the counter wearing a Santa hat, flannel pajama pants, and a black tank top making your favorite tea.
“Ah, there she is! Good morning,” he says with a smile. You take a plate full of chocolate chip waffles from him. But not before he kisses you. Cupping your cheek, he pulls you into perhaps the sweetest kiss you’ve ever had. You can feel his smile on your lips.
And everything feels absolutely perfect. You think you may be dreaming, but he feels so very real at this moment. And his voice is clear as day, “Merry Christmas.”
i fucking finally read it and omg aaaaaaaah someone sedate me this was so fucking adorable and so insanely well written i can close my fuckin eyes and see it playing it out?!?!
first of all the entire layout, like the characterization of both characters, is sooo insanely well done and the world building is quite literally genius. hp you a literal genius! cause the ground work is so nuts i was here for the smut and stayed for the beautifully flowing story and their chemistry. the moments when we see both of their personalities shine through: like our oc is no meek person they are sooo proactive and cool esp standing against that one prof that gave them pain (ngl if that one prof wasn't old and a fucking annoying old fart of a person: he had that ONE LIKE that had me like 🤔😁).
"How is it that someone who scored the highest in my theoretical chemistry exam is turning basic lab work into a spectacle of incompetence?" Professor Vaughn boasts over your right shoulder. No doubt his thick eyebrows are furrowed.
now only imagine if halo effect was applied 👀🙏 okay no one? just me? okay…
like ofc vaughn is a piece of shit and then there's soobin, like even if he wasn't our lead, bro is just such a well written character. dudes like how a professor should be fr when he listened to oc about their troubles in the old fart’s class and then explained it TO THEM! MOTIVATED THEM NY TELLING HIM ABOUT HIS REASON TO STUDY CHEMISTRY (like again seeee the characterisation!!!)
and of course the ALMOST MOMENTS?!? WHEN THEYHAD THAT STUPID DELCIOUS CHEMISTRY LOOKING AT EACH OTHER AND THEN UNABLE TO LOOK AT EACH OTHER 🤭🤭🤭 SO FREAKIN DELICIOUS AND THE KISS! AND THE BACK AND FORTH BC OF THE TABOONESS OF THEIR RELATIONSHIP?!? like that entire section my heart was at my mouth to see which one of them would break down first and become the one desperate BUT OH I WAS SO HAPPY TO REALISE BOTH OF THEM WERE! LOVE WHEN THE CHARACTERS ARE SOOOOOOO IN LOVE!
Along the way to your desk, you silently plop the code of conduct on his desk and scurry away. When you work up the courage to look up at him, he’s flipped to the marked page. Highlighted on the page is the paragraph that “strongly urges” people in positions of authority not to sleep with students.
like are you kidding me?? +!? this is so adorable. This made my stomach flip soooo many times and the little exchange they had with their EYES AFTER JT THE SMILE?!?! that was such a subtle but impactful move like this fic does such a great job at building the dynamic and genuine sense of want and love between the characters.
and then we see the smut! the highlighted part and it's somehow a mirror reflection of their dynamic within the story. it's gentle, it's sweet but it's laced with the desperation that they both have for each other. it's such a sweet section, and I love when soobin becomes vulnerable with her because like omg he can like that with her, and she is soo giving, and accepting of him, like a flip of their dynamic in the real life. it's the perfect balance, they are soo accepting of each other. this shows that they prefer each other like that. it was soo needy, soo passionate and perfect I LOVED IT SOO MUCH!!
I'm so sorry this was SOO ALL OVER THE PLACE BUT HONEST TO GOD I ENJOYED IT SO MUCH THIS FELT LIKE ENRICHMENT TO MY HEALTH I LOVE THEM SO MUCH! I LOVE THE CHARACTERS SO MUCH AND THE WRITING! HP YOURE WRITING AND YOUR ABILITY TO BUILD THE STORY IS ALWAYS SO INSANE! legit felt like i was reading a book, like the sections in the beginning leading to how we see soobin and oc are together and the sweet build up to their chemistry! OMG JUST REALISED THE CHEMISTRY FOR THIS FIC IS INSANE SHE IS LIVING UP TO HER NAME!!!!!!!
AND THE TENSION IN BETWEEN IM SO GLAD WE HAD THAT PART BECAUSE even if the age isn't an issue they still were at a vulnerable spot at the power dynamics and im glad they waited for her break before they decide to do anything. and even the period when they tried to stay away and both parties looked like they were about to… ki..i mean like not doing well!.
Summary: He can’t help it, bucking his hips into the pillow just feels so freaking good to him, the soft pressure enough to get him over the edge every night. But he hasn’t told you, and when you come home from work early one night, catching him in the act, it seems inevitable that you will find out.
genre: smut
Warnings: pillow humping, dacryphilia, dry humping, hair pulling (m receiving), unprotected sex, reader calls him ‘baby’, ‘good boy’, ‘Gyu’, and ‘my Gyu,’ it’s not mentioned but they’re both virgins, cockwarming, breeding kinda?, mentions of future voyeurism and exhibitionism, not proofread
word count: 1.2k
an: repost from my old acc for gyus bday <33
The pillow between his legs is familiar, comfortable, a calm, pleasured feeling rushing over his body as his hips slowly rut into it.
He starts his pace slow, not bothering to muffle his moans with the pillow by his head. He knows you’re at work, and will be for at least another hour or so. Since you work the late shift, he’s managed to keep his secret, well, a secret.
It’s not like he thinks you’ll leave him if you discover what he does at night. No, that’s not it. But he’s not exactly sure what it is that makes him keep it secret. Maybe it’s just his ritual, a little dirty thing he does every night.
The thoughts leave his head as his hips continue. He’s on his stomach in the bed, the pressure between his legs is heavier this way. He has to do less when he’s in this position. Just a slow, rocking back-and-forth that stays steady right until the very end.
Soft little whimpers leave his lips, the silent night amplifying the sound. Tears wet the sheet beneath him as his pace quickens, almost frantic against the pillow. He can’t help but think of you, how you’d look on top of him, bouncing on him, how it would look to watch his dick disappear and you over and over again. He knows that he is so, so dirty for thinking these things. You two haven’t even done it yet, yet here he is, thinking of how it’d sound to hear his name falling from your lips, how it’d feel to be able to give you the pleasure that you need.
It’s these thoughts that tip him off the deep end, furiously thrusting his hips forward, the rub delicious and welcome.
He’s so, so close to cumming, when the door clicks open and he stops, caught like a deer in headlights. He freezes like pretending to be asleep will help just in case you already saw. The blanket is tucked over his legs so you can’t see how the pillow is pressed against him, and you lay yourself next to him, turning to face him.
You can tell he’s not asleep, his breathing a little too ragged, but admire how his lashes fan out against his cheeks. “Baby?” You whisper, lips a few inches from his, so close he can feel your words on his skin. “Are you awake?”
He nods slightly, eyes still shut, and you coo. “Awh, Gyu… you’re so cute.”
Beomgyu’s cheeks flush in the darkness, the sound of your voice coaxing a reaction from him that’s almost embarrassing, he risks a slight movement into the pillow.
You notice the tiny jolt his hips do, innocently snuggling your head under the blanket to get a peek at what’s going on.
You’re met with a sight that makes you smirk, face hidden by the blanket, and Beomgyu lets out a gasp when you run a hand over the bulge in his sweats.
“I- I can't!…” he stutters your name out, too flustered by you both noticing his position and your hands on him. You hum in a question, and he shakes his head, eyes falling closed. “N-no, keep going, please…”
A smirk tugs at the edges of your lips again, you gently part his legs, the pillow hitting the ground before you’re in between his legs, thigh pressed against the imprint of his dick clear through his pants.
“Use me instead,” you instruct, voice a coo in his ear. Beomgyu’s heart is racing, but he doesn’t dare disobey, too lost in need for his own pleasure anyways.
He slowly rocks his hips against your thigh, the friction of his pants against his dick making him whimper slightly.
The feeling of him pressed against you makes a throbbing sensation start in your pussy, and when his pace increases, you really can’t take it, your fingers trail to your clit, pressing circles, your body jolting in response.
Beomgyu’s cries of pleasure in your ear let you know he’s getting close, and you take your thigh away, a whine leaving his lips. “Please, don’t stop, ‘m so close…”
You don’t answer, fumbling to remove your pants, then his and his boxers. You don’t even bother taking off your panties, just sliding them to the side before kissing him fervently. “Gyu, need you inside,” you murmur against his lips, threading a hand through his hair.
A throaty noise of agreement is all you get in response, and you waste no time, pumping him in your fist twice before lowering yourself down. His tip grows your entrance, your thighs trembling in pleasure, and he can’t help but buck his hips up against yours, coaxing soft moans to bubble up from his lips.
You allow you both to adjust to this new position before slowly moving up and down, thighs burning from the effort. His name falls from your mouth repeatedly, your lips pressed to his neck, your grip tightening on his hair. Beomgyu’s body jolts in a response to your touch, tears pricking his eyes.
“Can you go a little faster for me, Gyu?” You request, your fingers moving to his arm, squeezing his bicep lightly.
His tall, slender frame trembles beneath you at your words, but his speed quickens, whimpers of pleasure leaving him.
You hum in approval, fingers tugging at his hair again. “Such a good boy, my Gyu…”
A small squeak escapes his lips at the name, incoherent whispers pressed to the side of your neck. They grow louder until you can hear him clearly, and within your own fog of pleasure, you smirk again.
“Say it again, please…” Beomgyu begs, eyes squeezed shut and his hands tight on your waist, quickening your speed.
“Say what?” You tease, threading your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. “‘My Gyu’?”
He shakes his head quickly, his thrusts becoming sloppy, the tears brimming in his waterline slipping down his cheeks, his pleasure growing to an unbearable height. “Please, say again?”
You move your hands to his shoulders, gripping him tight as your own pleasure makes your legs practically go out, holding him for support as a rush of tingles spread to your legs. “My good boy, Gyu,” you moan out, lips pressed tight together.
Another whimper comes as his thrusts suddenly stop, his hips up and you slid down, your name leaving him in gasps and pleas and his body shaking, twitching slightly as his high hits him, eyes rolled back and back arched.
He looks so fucking pretty like that, fucked-out and tired, buried deep inside you, the hot sensation of his cum leaking out of you and down both your thighs and his, you can’t help but peak at the sight, holding him by his hand, his name leaving you like a chant, a mantra.
You bury your face in his neck, both your breaths ragged, and you giggle slightly. “How come you didn’t tell me you liked to use your pillow?”
His voice is breathy and low, the tone you’ve grown to love so much, when he responds. “Did… didn’t wanna, cause, I don’t know, maybe you’d think I was gross?”
You laugh slightly, laying next to him, him still inside you, your back against his chest. “I’d never think you were gross… I think it’s cute, actually.
oh this was hot! pathetic bro just rutting himself in a pillow, not just anyone's pillow but YOUR pillow as he imagines you topping him like this doesn't get anymore pathetic and hot than that! love gyu BUT LOVED YOUR WRITING HERE EVEN MORE! IT'S DESCRIPTIVE AND SO VIVID?!?!! legit could hear bro whimpering infront of me, and when you came like "use n" OH Shut up THIS IS MY SHIT RIGHT HERE PLUS WITH PROMISES OF VOYEURISMS?! this was for me! i missed your writing smm!!!!
0.5k ── fmr x prk sunghoon, est. relationship, fluff
Sunghoon stirs, blinking against the morning light. He reaches out, expecting to find you curled beside him — but his hand only meets empty sheets. They’re still warm, so you couldn’t have been gone for long.
“Yn?” His voice is hoarse with sleep, but when there’s no answer, his brows knit together.
He pushes the covers back and climbs out of bed, feet dragging slightly as he heads toward the faint sound of sniffling.
And then he sees you — sitting on the floor in front of your mirror, makeup scattered around you, face streaked with fresh tears. You’re crying hard, your breathing uneven and shaky as you dab clumsily at your eyes with a tissue.
“Baby…” His voice softens, but you barely react, only hiccuping as another sob shakes your shoulders.
He’s kneeling beside you in an instant, one arm sliding around your waist as his other hand cups your face. “Hey, hey…” His thumb brushes the tears from your cheek, but they just keep coming. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t do this,” you choke out, your voice breaking. “I can’t— I don’t wanna go to work.”
“Then don’t,” Sunghoon says without hesitation.
“But I have to,” you insist, voice rising in frustration. “I’m already behind, and my boss is gonna—”
“Shh…” He pulls you into his chest, cradling your head under his chin as your tears soak into his shirt. “You’re not going,” he murmurs firmly. “You’re staying right here with me.”
“I can’t,” you croak, your fingers curling weakly into his sleeve.
“You can,” he says softly, his hand tracing slow circles on your back. “And you will.”
You shake your head against him, breath still hitching. “But they’ll be mad—”
“I don’t care.” He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his gaze steady. “You’re more important than whatever they’re gonna say.”
His thumb catches another tear as it rolls down your cheek. “I’m serious. One day isn’t gonna change anything.”
“I just…” Your voice wobbles again, and your face crumples. “I’m so tired hoon…”
“I know,” he whispers, tugging you back into his arms. “I know.”
For a while, you just sit there — his arms wrapped tightly around you, his heartbeat steady against your ear. Eventually, your breathing slows, the tension in your body easing little by little.
“Stay with me,” he murmurs again, his lips brushing against your hair. “We’ll spend the whole day in bed. You can wear my hoodie and steal my socks and I’ll bring you snacks, okay?”
You sniffle. “Promise?”
“Promise,” he says, his smile warm and soft. “Now come back to bed.”
oh oh this was so sweet omg :(( sunghoon as the best little enabler— lmao jokes apart, this is honestly so pretty! love how you can breathe life to these scenarios babes, really like I didn't imagine myself frowning as I breathed a lil, "same" under my breathe as I read it, like this soo well written!
pairing. spider-man!sim jaeyun x gn!artist!reader genre. fluff cw. none! notes. i love writing jake as spider-man it’s so fun
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“how about these?” you asked, holding up your sketchbook full of different spider-man suit designs. jake's face lit up as he observed the different ideas you had come up for him.
considering that you were the only person in his life who knew about his powers, jake often talked your ear off about anything spider-man related. you loved it, often offering the boy solutions or just simply listening to whatever he had to say.
recently, jake told you about how he wanted something different for his new suit. his current one had ripped badly during a fight with doc ock and he needed to come up with something new and quick. being an artist, who often dabbled in sewing and fashion in general, you offered to help.
“i know you said you wanted to keep the red and blue, but i was thinking that the red and black could also be cool. and maybe having a white or black spider emblem where the legs extend across the suit.” you explained, flipping a page and pointing to the drawing. jake looked at you with a sparkle in his eyes, making you squirm from the intense eye contact.
“would you mind making it for me? i swear i’ll buy you matcha for like, a month.” jake begged before getting on his knees in front of your sitting figure while gripping onto your legs. you held back a laugh and pretended to think, tapping your pencil against your chin for effect.
“…make it two months and we have a deal.” you joked, but jake perked up and grabbed your hand in a rough handshake.
“deal!” he was excited, very excited considering that his old suit had been torn to shreds. he had seen your work at your school fashion shows and exhibits, you were really good.
“don’t worry, i’ll help with the technology that goes into the suit, all i need from you is the design part.” jake explained, helping you up from the grass before dusting you off. your cheeks warmed up quickly from his touch and you tried to avoid his eyes as much as you could.
“i’ll start on it tonight, i finished my homework earlier today so.." you were cut off by a swift kiss on the cheek. the action made your breath catch in your throat and you turned your head towards jake. he looked just as flustered as you felt and you wondered if he even thought the kiss through.
"sorry it's just...you're amazing, really. thank you for helping me with all of my sider-man stuff, i couldn't do all of this without you." jake spoke up first, his voice shaking a bit. his nervousness was endearing, and you couldn't help but lean down and plant a lingering kiss on his cheek.
"of course, i'll always be there for you." you replied before walking off with your things. jake watched as you go, his heart hammering in his chest ten times faster and a small smile slowly forming on his face.
oh this made me soo damn giddy!! first of all jake as a spiderman makes so much sense and it's soo adorable to think about?! like ofc his cute ass would be the one ayyoo!! and it's the childlike innocence integrated into the story making me feel so happy. swear to god couldn't stop smiling through out.
jake begged before getting on his knees in front of your sitting figure while gripping onto your legs.
the way these subtle, little actions makes my stomache shake so goddamn violently! it's so sweet?!? it's so goddamn like—the touch starved mess gets activated. these mindless touches makes me go insane istg.
and you couldn't help but lean down and plant a lingering kiss on his cheek.
oh they are sooo soo stinkining adorable together. love the way this is written, like you're so easily able to portray these clsoe relationship between the two the love just reeks lmao! i enjoyed this sm!
Summary: You didn't know it was possible to fall in love with someone human.
Warnings: one mention of vore, portrayal of sirens might not be accurate to mythology, some cliche lines, author uses the story to project on her own issues, pls tell me if i missed smth
Notes: afab reader, short reader (although only mentioned once), reader has long hair and shark teeth, story takes place in the province, i apologize in advance if some of the scenes are weird they were just way funnier in my head 😭
Part 2
For Duckie, whose moments I will treasure forever. And for Luna, who asked to be a part of the story OSNFJDKSK.
Cutting flowers, arranging them artfully, jotting down finances, repeat. It was clear Soobin loved his work, even with its daily repetition. How could anyone not feel happy surrounded by these sweet-smelling pretty things and basking in the gentle warmth of the morning sun? Watching customers breathe in the flowers’ fragrance with bliss or light up with joy as they received their bouquets brought him a unique sense of fulfillment no other job could give.
Soobin’s little boutique was an instant hit. On his first day, he sold out of flowers within just two hours. It was a lesson learned. Afterward, he stocked up on more flowers and hired Beomgyu, an additional hand.
It was another busy day for them in the shop. Running around all day with custom bouquets in their hands, politely answering the flocks of girls that would coquettishly giggle at them—it was a lot to do even for young men like them. Who would have guessed so many flowers could sell in such a small area?
Soobin sighed as he flipped the sign on the shop’s door to “Closed.” He had let Beomgyu leave early, feeling sorry for him after being swarmed all day. Though Beomgyu initially protested, Soobin insisted he could handle closing up on his own. Glancing at his watch, he noted the time. 5:53 PM. The sun usually sets around this time of the year.
I really am lucky to have a view like this for work, he thought to himself as he looked over the rocky shore where his little boutique resided.
Wait. Why is there a girl sitting in the open ocean at this time? And on that sharp ass rock?
He squinted at the girl as he closed the shop, going down to the sea afterwards to take a closer look.
What the fuck does she think she’s doing?
Maybe she’s having an emo moment, his mind replied.
Should I just leave her be then? He stopped walking.
What? No! And if she dies of hypothermia? What will you do then?
Drawn by the sound of the girl’s singing, Soobin found himself moving closer, unable to resist. It was as if he had become a puppet, helplessly pulled toward its master. His thoughts blurred as he waded into the sea, his clothes clinging to his skin as the icy water rose to his chest. His hydrophobia screamed for him to stop, and the cold sent shivers through his body, but he couldn’t fight the compulsion to reach the source of that angelic voice.
When he finally reached the rock, he saw her. The creature behind the enchanting melody. The one with the long, majestic hair and a face that was probably even more beautiful.
You.
You stopped humming and turned, sensing someone behind you. Soobin froze when your eyes met. You were the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen, so why were alarm bells going off in his head?
Despite the unease creeping up his spine, he took a hesitant step closer as you silently observed him.
And smiled.
His eyes widened in shock as he noticed your sharp, spiky teeth.
What the actual fuck is THAT? What kind of dentist allowed this monstrosity? Leaving ASAP. Don’t care how pretty she is. She’s probably insane.
But it was the sight of your tail that really did it. Without another thought, Soobin spun on his heels and bolted for the shore. Which was kinda stupid. He never had a chance of outrunning you.
Effortlessly, you leaped off your rock and caught him, spinning him around as he flailed wildly in your grasp. The sight of a grown man squealing, gasping, and thrashing, all while being held firmly by a small girl like you, was nothing short of comical. Hilarious, even.
“You scream like a little girl,” you teased.
“And you… talk like a… human?” Soobin panted.
Both of you froze for a moment, confusion hanging in the air. Soobin’s fear of the water momentarily evaporated, replaced by sheer bewilderment.
“Well, yeah,” you said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “How else am I supposed to lure people to their deaths if I can’t talk?”
“With your voice? I don’t know! I wasn’t expecting a conversation with my would-be killer!” Soobin exclaimed. His eyes widened as he tried to take a step back. “Wait, are you going to eat me?”
You tilted your head, intrigued by the nervous boy standing before you. “You know what?” you said, grinning. “You’re pretty cute. I’m keeping you.”
“In a cage?” Soobin stammered, his face pale. “Please don’t,” he pleaded, his voice rising in panic. “I have friends… and a loving family… and hopes and dreams!”
Your grin widened as you pulled him closer, letting your sharp teeth flash in front of his face. He flailed helplessly, his long limbs flopping like a fish trying to escape.
“I still have my whole life ahead of me!” he cried desperately. “I haven’t even lost my virginity yet!” His voice cracked dramatically at the end, making you burst into laughter.
The sound of your laughter was so magnificent, so mesmerizing, that Soobin momentarily forgot the peril he was in. He could die right now and he would've still been grateful that he was even able to hear a sound as awe-inspiring as your voice.
“You’re ridiculous,” you said, finally catching your breath. “I wasn’t going to keep you in a cage, dumbass. I meant I was going to keep you alive.”
“Oh.” Soobin blinked, relief washing over his face as he clutched his chest. “Oh, thank God.”
I wouldn’t have minded if she ate me out, though, Soobin thought before his brain betrayed him.
Pervert, his inner voice snapped. You’re literally admitting you’re into vore.
She‘s stunning! How the hell am I supposed to react?!
Simp.
“Look, I need to go,” you interrupted his spiraling thoughts, gripping his collar tightly. “I’m hungry, and I need to find something to eat. Don’t you dare tell anyone about me,” you hissed, your voice dangerously low. “Understood?”
“U-Understood!” Soobin nodded so hard he almost gave himself whiplash. “I’ll keep this a secret! I swear on my life!”
“Good.”
You let go of him with a small smile, turning to leave. But before you could disappear back into the water, his voice stopped you.
“Wait!”
You paused, glancing back.
“W-Will we see each other again?” His voice was shaky but sincere.
The question caught you off guard. Why would he even want to see you again? You didn’t know how to respond, so instead, you dove back into the sea, vanishing without another word.
By the time your conversation ended, the sun had set, leaving the water inky black. Yet as Soobin trudged back to shore, he strangely felt no fear, knowing that you were somewhere there in the sea with him.
Soobin didn’t visit the shore for an entire week, but he couldn’t stop himself from glancing at it during every free moment, hoping to catch a glimpse of you. Little did he know, you were doing the same—lingering just beneath the surface, wishing he’d come back as you (obviously) couldn’t go on land. Neither of you fully understood why, but the urge to see the other again gnawed at you both.
Soobin found himself daydreaming about your unexpected kindness, while you pondered why you’d decided to spare him. What made him so special? Was it his wimpy demeanor that screamed harmlessness? Or was it the way his eyes sparkled with hope when he asked if you’d meet again?
Eventually, impatience got the better of you. One evening, as the sun painted the horizon gold, you swam closer to the shore, letting your tail breach the water’s surface in a playful display. It didn’t take long for Soobin to spot the shimmering movement. His heart leapt as he immediately ran to his shop to arrange a bouquet for you.
In his rush, he grabbed every flower in sight but quickly panicked. What if she doesn’t even like flowers? He wanted to give you something while not being overwhelming. As he darted around the shop, his eyes landed on a cluster of daisies in the corner.
Perfect.
He plucked the liveliest daisy from the bunch and bolted down to the beach, barely noticing the seawater soaking his clothes and shoes. Seeing you perched near the waves, watching the sunset, made every step worth it.
You turned at the sound of his approach but stayed still, so Soobin decided to take the initiative. It was only his second time seeing you, but he already felt like the main character running in slow motion towards his lover with the sunset in the background. He bravely marched towards you and put on his rizz face, combing his hair back thinking to himself that he was the hot shit—
He tripped on a stray rock and fell down face first.
The water was barely up to his waist, but he was already drowning.
And you were at the side, biting your lip in an attempt not to laugh as you looked on, but it was no use. Watching this grown man nearly dying in water he could easily stand in, all while trying to recover his “cool” facade, was too much. You took pity on him a minute after, helping him stand upright again. He coughed and sputtered, pounding his chest to expel the last of the water, all while avoiding your gaze out of sheer shame.
When he finally composed himself, he smoothed his hair back again, as if nothing had happened. “Come on,” he said, motioning to the shallows. “Let’s sit for a while.”
You stared at him, absolutely baffled by his ability to act like the most humiliating moment of his life hadn’t just occurred, but you followed him anyway.
“I brought something for you,” he said when you both settled down.
He presented an object you didn’t recognize. His eyes were signaling for you to take it, so you clasped it as gently as you could and tilted your head in curiosity.
“What's this?”
“A flower.”
“A flounder?”
“No, a flower.”
“… Flower,” you said slowly, rolling the unfamiliar word over your tongue as if savoring it. Despite your long life, you’d never encountered a flower before. You turned it this way and that, marveling at its delicate form, though you weren’t quite sure what to do with it.
And so without any hesitation, you bit off a few petals.
Soobin’s eyes widened, and he stuttered, trying to form words. But the shock of what he just witnessed left him speechless.
You spat the petals out immediately, your face twisting in disgust. “Tastes like shit.”
“You’re not supposed to eat it,” Soobin said, his voice high with disbelief.
“I wasn’t?” Now it was your turn to feel embarrassed.
“No! You’re only supposed to smell it… or look at it.”
“Oh.”
A long, awkward silence fell between you as you both stared at what remained of the poor daisy. The chewed petals, now flaccid from the seawater, floated pitifully between you.
Soobin cleared his throat, desperate to break the tension. “There are, uh, lots of different flowers,” he said, grasping for a distraction. “Each one has its own meaning.”
“What does this one mean?” you asked, holding up the mangled stem.
“This flower is called a daisy. It represents purity and innocence, but in some parts of the world, it also means…” He trailed off, his ears burning bright red.
“It means?” you prompted, curiosity gleaming in your eyes.
“First love,” he mumbled, barely audible.
“Oh.” You tilted your head, your expression thoughtful. “I wonder what that feels like.”
Soobin blinked, turning to you in surprise. “You’ve never fallen in love before?”
You shook your head, and for some reason, his heart sank. Did that mean you’d never felt the thrill of butterflies in your stomach? Could creatures like you even feel love, or had you simply chosen solitude?
The thought of either option made Soobin’s chest ache in a way he didn’t quite understand.
“It looked pretty though,” you said, your voice soft with regret. “At least before I massacred it.”
A surge of excitement rushed through him at the thought of you liking his gift, even if it didn’t survive. Soobin straightened up, eager to offer something more. “I own a flower shop nearby. I can get you another one if you like it.”
You smiled sadly and shook your head. “I can’t keep it or it’ll just wilt in the ocean.” You gestured at the petals you had spat out as an example.
“I can always give you another one when you come back. That way, you can keep it for as long as possible.”
Your eyes lit up, and the childlike innocence in them made Soobin’s heart skip a beat. “You’d do that for me?”
Soobin felt his chest tighten as he gazed into your eyes.
Maybe it’s too soon to say this, but I think I’d do anything for you.
But he never says those words out loud. Instead, he swallowed hard, pushing the thought aside, and nodded. “Of course. It’s easy to do.”
“Thank you.”
Soobin hated eye contact, but he couldn’t look away as you smiled at him.
She’s actually kinda cute… As long as you cover those nasty-ass teeth, he thought.
“So, you’re not gonna eat me?” he joked, his voice laced with uncertainty.
“No,” you replied, eyes narrowing playfully. “But I’ll have to kill you.”
Soobin froze, his heart racing. He scanned the area frantically, trying to find an escape route, but before he could make a move, you poked him lightly.
The sudden contact sent him tumbling backwards into the water. He scrambled to his feet, his pulse pounding before a surge of defiance took over him. With unexpected force, he splashed seawater at you in an attempt to defend himself.
For a breathless moment, you both locked eyes across the shimmering divide of water, as he finally realized you had been messing with him all along.
And slowly, the tension between you two ebbed away, like the tide retreating from the shore.
The two of you didn’t cross paths again for another week. It wasn’t because of busyness, but rather a mutual shyness that kept you apart. Both of you, silently wanting to see each other, but unsure of how to make the first move.
One evening, as Soobin and Beomgyu were closing up the shop, Soobin suddenly spoke up.
“Gyu,” Soobin said, stuffing some of the shop’s things into his bag. “Do you think sirens exist?”
Beomgyu looked up in confusion. “You mean the ones in the water?”
“Yeah.”
Beomgyu chuckled. “You’ve been reading too many conspiracy theories. You should get out more. You know, touch some grass, hug a tree… Maybe get a girlfriend instead of staying locked in your room playing League.” He slapped Soobin on the back with a grin.
Soobin was taken aback, his thoughts momentarily clouded. “You’ll never know. The ocean is so deep, we haven’t even—” His words trailed off as his eyes caught sight of you waving at him from the shore.
He quickly turned to Beomgyu. “You can leave early. I’ll close up by myself.”
Beomgyu whined but was quickly pushed out of the shop, still protesting as Soobin hurried to get ready.
Is she crazy? How does she expect her existence to be kept a secret if she just exposes herself like that? Soobin thought, his heart racing as he jogged down to the shore, making sure no one else was around. The sun bathed you in a golden glow, casting a halo around your figure that made you look like a goddess from another realm. The sight left him breathless, overwhelmed by the sheer beauty you radiated.
He took a deep breath and, gathering all his courage, sat down beside you.
You blushed slightly at the sight of him, then grinned. “Since you gave me a flower last time, I thought I’d give you a fish.”
Soobin’s eyes widened in curiosity.
What is she giving me? Alaskan salmon? Bluefin tuna? King crab? Glass eel?
Before he could make sense of it, he screamed as you tossed a clownfish onto a rock.
“Ahh! What did you do to poor Nemo?!” Soobin exclaimed, staring at the poor fish flapping around in distress.
“Nemo? I thought people called it a clownfish,” you said, a bit puzzled.
The fish struggled for a few moments, then went still. You tossed the dead fish back into the sea as Soobin gaped, unable to process the absurdity of the situation. You shrugged, unbothered. “It’ll be eaten up by the other fish anyway.”
Soobin stared at the fish carcass as it sank, feeling a strange sense of disbelief.
“So why did you call it Nemo?” you asked, turning to him.
He blinked, then explained the plot of Finding Nemo to you. You listened with amusement, teasing him when you realized how absurd it was to name a fish “Nemo” when it wasn’t even alive anymore. “But you’re right, though. It kinda looks like him. And you too. Flapping around like you did when we first met,” you teased.
Soobin flushed at the memory. He had acted like a complete fool when you caught him earlier.
The conversation eventually turned more serious as the hours passed by. You told Soobin about how sirens were often poached by hunters for their scales, and how, because of that, sirens despised humans with all their hearts. Soobin listened quietly, realizing how much history you had with humans—tragic, unfair, and full of pain.
In return, Soobin tried to explain concepts like capitalism, cars, the alphabet—but every time he saw your brow furrow in confusion, he would quickly switch back to discussing flowers to simplify things. He didn’t want to overwhelm you with too much information.
It felt so easy with you, even when the topics were strange. With each exchange, he found himself more captivated, not just by your otherworldly beauty, but by the unexpected connection that was growing between you.
You two never stopped learning about each other’s worlds. One lazy afternoon, Soobin showed up at the shore with a determined look on his face and a giant bag slung over his shoulder.
“What’s that?” you asked, eyeing the bag suspiciously.
“Supplies,” he said cryptically, dropping the bag onto the sand with a loud thud.
“…Supplies for what?”
“I’m teaching you how to play volleyball!”
You blinked, completely thrown off. “What the hell is volleyball?”
He gasped, clutching his chest like you had just personally insulted him. “You don’t know volleyball? What do you sirens even do all day?”
“Um… not throw things at each other for fun?” you retorted.
“Well, you’re missing out,” he said, pulling out a battered volleyball and a makeshift net. “Today’s your lucky day. Coach Soobin is here to teach you.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Coach Soobin? You can barely walk without tripping over yourself.”
“Rude,” he said, as he struggled to set up the net between two rocks. The net was lopsided and sagging by the time he finished, but he stood back proudly like it was a masterpiece. “Okay, we’re ready.”
You crossed your arms, unimpressed. “And how am I supposed to play this… whatever-ball game? I don’t even have legs.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got it covered,” he said confidently. Then, with absolutely no warning, he chucked the volleyball straight at you.
It smacked into your face with a loud thwack.
You sat there in stunned silence, the ball floating beside you, while Soobin froze, his eyes wide with horror.
“…Did you just throw that at my face?” you asked slowly, your voice dangerously calm.
“I-I didn’t mean to! I thought you’d catch it!” he stammered, backing away.
“With what, Soobin? My fins?”
“Oh, right,” he mumbled, looking genuinely apologetic now.
You stared at him for a moment, then grabbed the volleyball and hurled it back at him with all the strength you could muster. It hit him square in the chest, and he stumbled backward, landing flat on his back in the sand.
“Ow!” he groaned, clutching his chest. “Okay, okay, I deserved that.”
“You deserved worse,” you said, smirking. “Maybe I should summon a shark to help me ‘practice.’”
“Please don’t,” he begged, sitting up and brushing sand out of his hair.
Despite yourself, you couldn’t help but laugh at how pathetic he looked, sprawled in the sand like a defeated crab. “You’re hopeless, you know that?”
“Hopelessly charming,” he said with a weak grin.
“You’re lucky I don’t drag you into the ocean and leave you there.”
“You won’t,” he said, grinning wider now. “Because deep down, you like spending time with me.”
You rolled your eyes but deep inside you knew you couldn’t deny it. “You’re ridiculous, Soobin.”
“Well… yes, but at least I’m good at volleyball,” he said, puffing out his chest like he hadn’t just been floored by your throw.
You laughed again, shaking your head. “Fine, ‘Coach Soobin.’ Teach me your stupid game. But if you hit me in the face again, I’m turning you into shark bait.”
“Deal,” he said quickly, grabbing the ball and grinning like a kid who had just won a prize.
That day was a disaster. He tripped over the net, fell into the water at least three times, and nearly knocked himself out with his own serve. But by the end of it, both of you were laughing so hard that your sides hurt, and for a little while, the rest of the world didn’t matter.
The next few times Soobin made his way down to the shore, he didn’t expect the feeling of nervous anticipation that gripped him. It had become a habit now, sneaking out after closing the shop, eager to see you again, with each meeting always full of new surprises.
But today, you weren’t at your usual spot.
He waited, heart pounding as the minutes stretched by. He almost thought of leaving, convinced something must have happened, when a soft voice called out to him.
“Soobin.”
He turned, and there you were, sitting by the rocks just beyond the shore, your eyes gleaming with something that felt almost… mysterious. You held out your hand to him, a gesture that tugged at his curiosity.
“Follow me,” you said, voice quiet, yet full of something more. Something deeper.
Soobin hesitated for a brief moment, wondering what you had in mind, but without another thought, he waded in after you. You held his hand as you led him past the usual spots—past the rocks he’d become so familiar with, past the small grove of trees he thought he knew so well. Your movements were graceful, as though you were the ocean itself, and Soobin followed closely behind, his heart racing in anticipation.
After what felt like a while, you stopped, signaling for him to come closer. He reached you as you glided toward a narrow passage between the cliffs, the rocks towering high above you. It was easy to miss this path unless you knew where to look, and Soobin realized with a sudden breath of awe that he had discovered something truly secret—a sanctuary only you knew.
The narrow passage led to a cove, a secluded little inlet surrounded by jagged rocks, where the ocean stretched out in front of them. The water here was a soft, transparent blue, and the rocks lining the shore were smooth, almost sculpted. The scene before him felt like a dream, a hidden paradise where only you and the ocean seemed to exist.
“Soobin, this place is special,” you said softly as you sat down on one of the smooth rocks. “I come here when I need to think, when I want to be alone. But…” You hesitated before looking at him, your expression unreadable. “I wanted to share it with you.”
Soobin felt a mix of awe and gratitude flood through him. To him, this was more than just a secret spot; it was a part of you, a side of you that you were finally allowing him to see. He sat beside you on the smooth rocks, the weight of the gesture not lost on him. The silence was peaceful, comforting, like this space was made just for the two of you.
From that day on, Soobin made it a point to visit the cove every evening after closing the shop. At first, it was only once a week, then twice. But it quickly became a routine, and before long, it was every day. He couldn’t stay away. The cove had become his place too—a place where you two could be yourselves without any of the outside world’s noise. Each day, the moments you shared there grew more special, more intimate. Everyday, he’d give you a new kind of flower to take home. You’d splash water at each other, tell stories, and laugh at the little things. Sometimes, you’d sit together in silence, watching the sunset paint the sky in hues of pink and orange, the world seemingly stopping around you.
As the days passed, Soobin found himself growing more attached to you than he ever expected. It started as curiosity, wondering about the siren who had captured his attention, but now… now it was something more. Something he couldn’t quite name but couldn’t ignore.
And then, one evening as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in vibrant oranges and purples, Soobin found himself sitting beside you in the cove, his heart pounding, his hand just a little too close to yours. The routine, the bond—everything had led him to this moment. He couldn’t hold it in any longer.
He turned to you, his throat tight with nerves, and finally, he spoke the words he had been holding onto for so long.
omg where do i even start with? this was sooo freaking adorable, and so so so funny! i literally had so many burst out laughing moments bro the dialogues were freaking killer! the characteristics of both of them was so fucking cute like!!? it had me guffawing! soobin is such a loser, like such a huge loser but with a heart of gold (and sometimes thinks with his dick, but it's fine) like the moment when mf just walked into the ocean after a moral fight with himself, without caring or knowing who it truly is to save them? so insane. like my sooooobinnnnnn!! what a tender hearted stupid bitch i love him sooo much! and he's so fucking funny i lost my shit when he was kinda like, “they are the prettiest person I've ever seen except for those fuck ass dental work” like okay speak your truth soobin san?
and the oc? I love how they have their characteristic siren things that puts them apart from actual humans and them having their quirks made this soo endearing?!? like when they started to name the number of fishes soobin could have gotten for them? so freaking adorable and them just eating the flower!
soobin as a florist makes so much goddamn sense too he is so like fuckin adorable i could have cried lmao and their dynamic is sooooooooooooooo cute omg (i feel like I'm just gonna repeat shit here) buf genuinely like the common interest they have each other which turned to this odd friendship where they both seem like they want to protect each other makes ME WEEP! also like oc scaring soobin, and soobin defying gravity ( not so much) and running over the ocean to the shore like NOPE!
[Soobin’s little boutique was an instant hit. On his first day, he sold out of flowers within just two hours. It was a lesson learned. Afterward, he stocked up on more flowers and hired Beomgyu, an additional hand.]
idk why but soobin and beomgyu working on a shop makes me giggle so much! like imagine beomgyu fuckin throwing tantrum after every two shipments of flowers, ans soobin who was sweet smiling ans tending to his flowers (he is big on nature's nurture) turning back and scowling at beomgyu and eating his head our for complaining bc the nature’s nurture doesn't apply to beomgyu and his bobble ass head.
(What the fuck does she think she’s doing? Maybe she’s having an emo moment, his mind replied. Should I just leave her be then? He stopped walking. What? No! And if she dies of hypothermia? What will you do then?)
this bit!! this fuckin bit! had me legit guffawing! this is like when you're inherently a good person but you are also lazy but you also know if something happened you won't be able to sleep forever but you also don't wanna involve yourself in others' mess that would guarantee you overtime!
[His thoughts blurred as he waded into the sea, his clothes clinging to his skin as the icy water rose to his chest. His hydrophobia screamed for him to stop, and the cold sent shivers through his body, but he couldn’t fight the compulsion to reach the source of that angelic voice.]
the description of his ass going into the ocean had me giggling like a crazy bitch like why was thattttt sooooo fine? if I closed my eyes I coudk SEEE and it's so hot 👀🤡
(What the actual fuck is THAT? What kind of dentist allowed this monstrosity? Leaving ASAP. Don’t care how pretty she is. She’s probably insane. )
bro immediately going nope before he could process the moment was so real I was laughing so hard here!
(“In a cage?” Soobin stammered, his face pale. “Please don’t,” he pleaded, his voice rising in panic. “I have friends… and a loving family… and hopes and dreams!”)
LMAO LIKE I'M WITH SOOBIN ON THIS ONE if someone with that sort of jagged teeth told me they wanna keep me, I too would assume it's for live stock purposes. also he has his virginity intact.
(“W-Will we see each other again?” His voice was shaky but sincere.)
all men are same istg lmao like bro got scared? got threatened? and then he thought with his dick. got threatened again and STILL WANTS TO MEET HER! i love soobin's character so fuckin much bro keeps it a hundred.
[He bravely marched towards you and put on his rizz face, combing his hair back thinking to himself that he was the hot shit—]
MAKE THIS MAN SLIP ON ANOTHER FUCK ASS ROCK RIGHT NOW! how to block someone in real time?
(And you were at the side, biting your lip in an attempt not to laugh as you looked on, but it was no use.)
and how the hell did she do this without puncturing her lips with those jacked ass teeth?
[A surge of excitement rushed through him at the thought of you liking his gift, even if it didn’t survive. Soobin straightened up, eager to offer something more. “I own a flower shop nearby. I can get you another one if you like it.”]
this is so adorable but I can also see beomgyu side eyeing soobin for throwing away his business considering how fuckin expensive flowers are let's be for real.
(Maybe it’s too soon to say this, but I think I’d do anything for you. )
WOOOOOAHHHH THIS HOPELESS BITCH! Lmao it's actually cute ngl, it would be fun to see his little heart stomped on.
NO LIKE LITERALLY THE ENTIRE VOLLEYBALL BIT I LOST IT! +! BC YOIRE TRYING TO TEACH A SIREN HOW TO FUCMING SERVE?!? BABY THEY ALREADY SERVING CUNT! he is so goofy like wdym LIKE HOW DOES IT COME TO YOUR HEAD?!!
this was so fuckin cute agh! I'm gonna keep on repeating it again and again but genuinely this was so sweet! made me smile so hard like this is fr the type of fluff I need in life! the way you wrote also paints such a pretty picture of the ocean facing side of the town with jagged rocks keeping the ocean to meet the beach area like it soothes my heart! I can't wait to read the second part!
Jungwon is lying in bed when you climb on top of him out of nowhere, draping yourself across his chest like a human blanket. His phone wobbles in his grip before he catches it, blinking at you in mild surprise.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting comfortable,” you mumble, nuzzling into his hoodie.
Jungwon huffs a laugh, placing his phone down as his hands find your waist. “You’re so clingy.”
“You love me,” you counter, tilting your head up to look at him.
He rolls his eyes but doesn’t deny it. Instead, he slides his hands up and down your back, his touch warm and slow. “You’re gonna fall asleep on me again, aren’t you?”
You hum in response, already feeling drowsy against his warmth.
Jungwon smiles softly, brushing a few strands of hair from your face. “At least let me breathe babe.”
“No,” you mumble, pressing a lazy kiss to his jaw.
His breath hitches slightly, his hands faltering for just a second before they tighten around you. “You’re really testing me right now,” he murmurs.
You grin sleepily. “I know.”
Jungwon exhales through his nose, shifting slightly beneath you, but he doesn’t push you away. Instead, he wraps his arms more securely around you, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.
about to jump off a cliff like this is soooo sooooo freaking adorable! don't wanna know if i want a jungwon or an oc, like dude this is so adorable! this is triggering cuteness aggression in me! AND I'M ALWAYS UP FOR HUMAN BLANKET AGENDA! crush me under the weight please this is so adorable so fucking cute aayyyoooo!!!!!!
also like jungwon mf being like he's tired but bro going just a little... lil bro i know what you are.
had to sit down with my head down in my hands. taesan is such a.... loser. my god! lmao like why is he in heat!? someone neuter him please in the part two. i can't tell if oc is genuinely taking the piss out of him or she's this close to blocking him lmao
Summary: You didn't know it was possible to fall in love with someone human.
Warnings: one mention of vore, portrayal of sirens might not be accurate to mythology, some cliche lines, author uses the story to project on her own issues, pls tell me if i missed smth
Notes: afab reader, short reader (although only mentioned once), reader has long hair and shark teeth, story takes place in the province, i apologize in advance if some of the scenes are weird they were just way funnier in my head 😭
Part 2
For Duckie, whose moments I will treasure forever. And for Luna, who asked to be a part of the story OSNFJDKSK.
Cutting flowers, arranging them artfully, jotting down finances, repeat. It was clear Soobin loved his work, even with its daily repetition. How could anyone not feel happy surrounded by these sweet-smelling pretty things and basking in the gentle warmth of the morning sun? Watching customers breathe in the flowers’ fragrance with bliss or light up with joy as they received their bouquets brought him a unique sense of fulfillment no other job could give.
Cutting flowers, arranging them artfully, jotting down finances, repeat. It was clear Soobin loved his work, even with its daily repetition. How could anyone not feel happy surrounded by these sweet-smelling pretty things and basking in the gentle warmth of the morning sun? Watching customers breathe in the flowers’ fragrance with bliss or light up with joy as they received their bouquets brought him a unique sense of fulfillment no other job could give.
Soobin’s little boutique was an instant hit. On his first day, he sold out of flowers within just two hours. It was a lesson learned. Afterward, he stocked up on more flowers and hired Beomgyu, an additional hand.
It was another busy day for them in the shop. Running around all day with custom bouquets in their hands, politely answering the flocks of girls that would coquettishly giggle at them—it was a lot to do even for young men like them. Who would have guessed so many flowers could sell in such a small area?
Soobin sighed as he flipped the sign on the shop’s door to “Closed.” He had let Beomgyu leave early, feeling sorry for him after being swarmed all day. Though Beomgyu initially protested, Soobin insisted he could handle closing up on his own. Glancing at his watch, he noted the time. 5:53 PM. The sun usually sets around this time of the year.
I really am lucky to have a view like this for work, he thought to himself as he looked over the rocky shore where his little boutique resided.
Wait. Why is there a girl sitting in the open ocean at this time? And on that sharp ass rock?
He squinted at the girl as he closed the shop, going down to the sea afterwards to take a closer look.
What the fuck does she think she’s doing?
Maybe she’s having an emo moment, his mind replied.
Should I just leave her be then? He stopped walking.
What? No! And if she dies of hypothermia? What will you do then?
Drawn by the sound of the girl’s singing, Soobin found himself moving closer, unable to resist. It was as if he had become a puppet, helplessly pulled toward its master. His thoughts blurred as he waded into the sea, his clothes clinging to his skin as the icy water rose to his chest. His hydrophobia screamed for him to stop, and the cold sent shivers through his body, but he couldn’t fight the compulsion to reach the source of that angelic voice.
When he finally reached the rock, he saw her. The creature behind the enchanting melody. The one with the long, majestic hair and a face that was probably even more beautiful.
You.
You stopped humming and turned, sensing someone behind you. Soobin froze when your eyes met. You were the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen, so why were alarm bells going off in his head?
Despite the unease creeping up his spine, he took a hesitant step closer as you silently observed him.
And smiled.
His eyes widened in shock as he noticed your sharp, spiky teeth.
What the actual fuck is THAT? What kind of dentist allowed this monstrosity? Leaving ASAP. Don’t care how pretty she is. She’s probably insane.
But it was the sight of your tail that really did it. Without another thought, Soobin spun on his heels and bolted for the shore. Which was kinda stupid. He never had a chance of outrunning you.
Effortlessly, you leaped off your rock and caught him, spinning him around as he flailed wildly in your grasp. The sight of a grown man squealing, gasping, and thrashing, all while being held firmly by a small girl like you, was nothing short of comical. Hilarious, even.
“You scream like a little girl,” you teased.
“And you… talk like a… human?” Soobin panted.
Both of you froze for a moment, confusion hanging in the air. Soobin’s fear of the water momentarily evaporated, replaced by sheer bewilderment.
“Well, yeah,” you said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “How else am I supposed to lure people to their deaths if I can’t talk?”
“With your voice? I don’t know! I wasn’t expecting a conversation with my would-be killer!” Soobin exclaimed. His eyes widened as he tried to take a step back. “Wait, are you going to eat me?”
You tilted your head, intrigued by the nervous boy standing before you. “You know what?” you said, grinning. “You’re pretty cute. I’m keeping you.”
“In a cage?” Soobin stammered, his face pale. “Please don’t,” he pleaded, his voice rising in panic. “I have friends… and a loving family… and hopes and dreams!”
Your grin widened as you pulled him closer, letting your sharp teeth flash in front of his face. He flailed helplessly, his long limbs flopping like a fish trying to escape.
“I still have my whole life ahead of me!” he cried desperately. “I haven’t even lost my virginity yet!” His voice cracked dramatically at the end, making you burst into laughter.
The sound of your laughter was so magnificent, so mesmerizing, that Soobin momentarily forgot the peril he was in. He could die right now and he would've still been grateful that he was even able to hear a sound as awe-inspiring as your voice.
“You’re ridiculous,” you said, finally catching your breath. “I wasn’t going to keep you in a cage, dumbass. I meant I was going to keep you alive.”
“Oh.” Soobin blinked, relief washing over his face as he clutched his chest. “Oh, thank God.”
I wouldn’t have minded if she ate me out, though, Soobin thought before his brain betrayed him.
Pervert, his inner voice snapped. You’re literally admitting you’re into vore.
She‘s stunning! How the hell am I supposed to react?!
Simp.
“Look, I need to go,” you interrupted his spiraling thoughts, gripping his collar tightly. “I’m hungry, and I need to find something to eat. Don’t you dare tell anyone about me,” you hissed, your voice dangerously low. “Understood?”
“U-Understood!” Soobin nodded so hard he almost gave himself whiplash. “I’ll keep this a secret! I swear on my life!”
“Good.”
You let go of him with a small smile, turning to leave. But before you could disappear back into the water, his voice stopped you.
“Wait!”
You paused, glancing back.
“W-Will we see each other again?” His voice was shaky but sincere.
The question caught you off guard. Why would he even want to see you again? You didn’t know how to respond, so instead, you dove back into the sea, vanishing without another word.
By the time your conversation ended, the sun had set, leaving the water inky black. Yet as Soobin trudged back to shore, he strangely felt no fear, knowing that you were somewhere there in the sea with him.
Soobin didn’t visit the shore for an entire week, but he couldn’t stop himself from glancing at it during every free moment, hoping to catch a glimpse of you. Little did he know, you were doing the same—lingering just beneath the surface, wishing he’d come back as you (obviously) couldn’t go on land. Neither of you fully understood why, but the urge to see the other again gnawed at you both.
Soobin found himself daydreaming about your unexpected kindness, while you pondered why you’d decided to spare him. What made him so special? Was it his wimpy demeanor that screamed harmlessness? Or was it the way his eyes sparkled with hope when he asked if you’d meet again?
Eventually, impatience got the better of you. One evening, as the sun painted the horizon gold, you swam closer to the shore, letting your tail breach the water’s surface in a playful display. It didn’t take long for Soobin to spot the shimmering movement. His heart leapt as he immediately ran to his shop to arrange a bouquet for you.
In his rush, he grabbed every flower in sight but quickly panicked. What if she doesn’t even like flowers? He wanted to give you something while not being overwhelming. As he darted around the shop, his eyes landed on a cluster of daisies in the corner.
Perfect.
He plucked the liveliest daisy from the bunch and bolted down to the beach, barely noticing the seawater soaking his clothes and shoes. Seeing you perched near the waves, watching the sunset, made every step worth it.
You turned at the sound of his approach but stayed still, so Soobin decided to take the initiative. It was only his second time seeing you, but he already felt like the main character running in slow motion towards his lover with the sunset in the background. He bravely marched towards you and put on his rizz face, combing his hair back thinking to himself that he was the hot shit—
He tripped on a stray rock and fell down face first.
The water was barely up to his waist, but he was already drowning.
And you were at the side, biting your lip in an attempt not to laugh as you looked on, but it was no use. Watching this grown man nearly dying in water he could easily stand in, all while trying to recover his “cool” facade, was too much. You took pity on him a minute after, helping him stand upright again. He coughed and sputtered, pounding his chest to expel the last of the water, all while avoiding your gaze out of sheer shame.
When he finally composed himself, he smoothed his hair back again, as if nothing had happened. “Come on,” he said, motioning to the shallows. “Let’s sit for a while.”
You stared at him, absolutely baffled by his ability to act like the most humiliating moment of his life hadn’t just occurred, but you followed him anyway.
“I brought something for you,” he said when you both settled down.
He presented an object you didn’t recognize. His eyes were signaling for you to take it, so you clasped it as gently as you could and tilted your head in curiosity.
“What's this?”
“A flower.”
“A flounder?”
“No, a flower.”
“… Flower,” you said slowly, rolling the unfamiliar word over your tongue as if savoring it. Despite your long life, you’d never encountered a flower before. You turned it this way and that, marveling at its delicate form, though you weren’t quite sure what to do with it.
And so without any hesitation, you bit off a few petals.
Soobin’s eyes widened, and he stuttered, trying to form words. But the shock of what he just witnessed left him speechless.
You spat the petals out immediately, your face twisting in disgust. “Tastes like shit.”
“You’re not supposed to eat it,” Soobin said, his voice high with disbelief.
“I wasn’t?” Now it was your turn to feel embarrassed.
“No! You’re only supposed to smell it… or look at it.”
“Oh.”
A long, awkward silence fell between you as you both stared at what remained of the poor daisy. The chewed petals, now flaccid from the seawater, floated pitifully between you.
Soobin cleared his throat, desperate to break the tension. “There are, uh, lots of different flowers,” he said, grasping for a distraction. “Each one has its own meaning.”
“What does this one mean?” you asked, holding up the mangled stem.
“This flower is called a daisy. It represents purity and innocence, but in some parts of the world, it also means…” He trailed off, his ears burning bright red.
“It means?” you prompted, curiosity gleaming in your eyes.
“First love,” he mumbled, barely audible.
“Oh.” You tilted your head, your expression thoughtful. “I wonder what that feels like.”
Soobin blinked, turning to you in surprise. “You’ve never fallen in love before?”
You shook your head, and for some reason, his heart sank. Did that mean you’d never felt the thrill of butterflies in your stomach? Could creatures like you even feel love, or had you simply chosen solitude?
The thought of either option made Soobin’s chest ache in a way he didn’t quite understand.
“It looked pretty though,” you said, your voice soft with regret. “At least before I massacred it.”
A surge of excitement rushed through him at the thought of you liking his gift, even if it didn’t survive. Soobin straightened up, eager to offer something more. “I own a flower shop nearby. I can get you another one if you like it.”
You smiled sadly and shook your head. “I can’t keep it or it’ll just wilt in the ocean.” You gestured at the petals you had spat out as an example.
“I can always give you another one when you come back. That way, you can keep it for as long as possible.”
Your eyes lit up, and the childlike innocence in them made Soobin’s heart skip a beat. “You’d do that for me?”
Soobin felt his chest tighten as he gazed into your eyes.
Maybe it’s too soon to say this, but I think I’d do anything for you.
But he never says those words out loud. Instead, he swallowed hard, pushing the thought aside, and nodded. “Of course. It’s easy to do.”
“Thank you.”
Soobin hated eye contact, but he couldn’t look away as you smiled at him.
She’s actually kinda cute… As long as you cover those nasty-ass teeth, he thought.
“So, you’re not gonna eat me?” he joked, his voice laced with uncertainty.
“No,” you replied, eyes narrowing playfully. “But I’ll have to kill you.”
Soobin froze, his heart racing. He scanned the area frantically, trying to find an escape route, but before he could make a move, you poked him lightly.
The sudden contact sent him tumbling backwards into the water. He scrambled to his feet, his pulse pounding before a surge of defiance took over him. With unexpected force, he splashed seawater at you in an attempt to defend himself.
For a breathless moment, you both locked eyes across the shimmering divide of water, as he finally realized you had been messing with him all along.
And slowly, the tension between you two ebbed away, like the tide retreating from the shore.
The two of you didn’t cross paths again for another week. It wasn’t because of busyness, but rather a mutual shyness that kept you apart. Both of you, silently wanting to see each other, but unsure of how to make the first move.
One evening, as Soobin and Beomgyu were closing up the shop, Soobin suddenly spoke up.
“Gyu,” Soobin said, stuffing some of the shop’s things into his bag. “Do you think sirens exist?”
Beomgyu looked up in confusion. “You mean the ones in the water?”
“Yeah.”
Beomgyu chuckled. “You’ve been reading too many conspiracy theories. You should get out more. You know, touch some grass, hug a tree… Maybe get a girlfriend instead of staying locked in your room playing League.” He slapped Soobin on the back with a grin.
Soobin was taken aback, his thoughts momentarily clouded. “You’ll never know. The ocean is so deep, we haven’t even—” His words trailed off as his eyes caught sight of you waving at him from the shore.
He quickly turned to Beomgyu. “You can leave early. I’ll close up by myself.”
Beomgyu whined but was quickly pushed out of the shop, still protesting as Soobin hurried to get ready.
Is she crazy? How does she expect her existence to be kept a secret if she just exposes herself like that? Soobin thought, his heart racing as he jogged down to the shore, making sure no one else was around. The sun bathed you in a golden glow, casting a halo around your figure that made you look like a goddess from another realm. The sight left him breathless, overwhelmed by the sheer beauty you radiated.
He took a deep breath and, gathering all his courage, sat down beside you.
You blushed slightly at the sight of him, then grinned. “Since you gave me a flower last time, I thought I’d give you a fish.”
Soobin’s eyes widened in curiosity.
What is she giving me? Alaskan salmon? Bluefin tuna? King crab? Glass eel?
Before he could make sense of it, he screamed as you tossed a clownfish onto a rock.
“Ahh! What did you do to poor Nemo?!” Soobin exclaimed, staring at the poor fish flapping around in distress.
“Nemo? I thought people called it a clownfish,” you said, a bit puzzled.
The fish struggled for a few moments, then went still. You tossed the dead fish back into the sea as Soobin gaped, unable to process the absurdity of the situation. You shrugged, unbothered. “It’ll be eaten up by the other fish anyway.”
Soobin stared at the fish carcass as it sank, feeling a strange sense of disbelief.
“So why did you call it Nemo?” you asked, turning to him.
He blinked, then explained the plot of Finding Nemo to you. You listened with amusement, teasing him when you realized how absurd it was to name a fish “Nemo” when it wasn’t even alive anymore. “But you’re right, though. It kinda looks like him. And you too. Flapping around like you did when we first met,” you teased.
Soobin flushed at the memory. He had acted like a complete fool when you caught him earlier.
The conversation eventually turned more serious as the hours passed by. You told Soobin about how sirens were often poached by hunters for their scales, and how, because of that, sirens despised humans with all their hearts. Soobin listened quietly, realizing how much history you had with humans—tragic, unfair, and full of pain.
In return, Soobin tried to explain concepts like capitalism, cars, the alphabet—but every time he saw your brow furrow in confusion, he would quickly switch back to discussing flowers to simplify things. He didn’t want to overwhelm you with too much information.
It felt so easy with you, even when the topics were strange. With each exchange, he found himself more captivated, not just by your otherworldly beauty, but by the unexpected connection that was growing between you.
You two never stopped learning about each other’s worlds. One lazy afternoon, Soobin showed up at the shore with a determined look on his face and a giant bag slung over his shoulder.
“What’s that?” you asked, eyeing the bag suspiciously.
“Supplies,” he said cryptically, dropping the bag onto the sand with a loud thud.
“…Supplies for what?”
“I’m teaching you how to play volleyball!”
You blinked, completely thrown off. “What the hell is volleyball?”
He gasped, clutching his chest like you had just personally insulted him. “You don’t know volleyball? What do you sirens even do all day?”
“Um… not throw things at each other for fun?” you retorted.
“Well, you’re missing out,” he said, pulling out a battered volleyball and a makeshift net. “Today’s your lucky day. Coach Soobin is here to teach you.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Coach Soobin? You can barely walk without tripping over yourself.”
“Rude,” he said, as he struggled to set up the net between two rocks. The net was lopsided and sagging by the time he finished, but he stood back proudly like it was a masterpiece. “Okay, we’re ready.”
You crossed your arms, unimpressed. “And how am I supposed to play this… whatever-ball game? I don’t even have legs.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got it covered,” he said confidently. Then, with absolutely no warning, he chucked the volleyball straight at you.
It smacked into your face with a loud thwack.
You sat there in stunned silence, the ball floating beside you, while Soobin froze, his eyes wide with horror.
“…Did you just throw that at my face?” you asked slowly, your voice dangerously calm.
“I-I didn’t mean to! I thought you’d catch it!” he stammered, backing away.
“With what, Soobin? My fins?”
“Oh, right,” he mumbled, looking genuinely apologetic now.
You stared at him for a moment, then grabbed the volleyball and hurled it back at him with all the strength you could muster. It hit him square in the chest, and he stumbled backward, landing flat on his back in the sand.
“Ow!” he groaned, clutching his chest. “Okay, okay, I deserved that.”
“You deserved worse,” you said, smirking. “Maybe I should summon a shark to help me ‘practice.’”
“Please don’t,” he begged, sitting up and brushing sand out of his hair.
Despite yourself, you couldn’t help but laugh at how pathetic he looked, sprawled in the sand like a defeated crab. “You’re hopeless, you know that?”
“Hopelessly charming,” he said with a weak grin.
“You’re lucky I don’t drag you into the ocean and leave you there.”
“You won’t,” he said, grinning wider now. “Because deep down, you like spending time with me.”
You rolled your eyes but deep inside you knew you couldn’t deny it. “You’re ridiculous, Soobin.”
“Well… yes, but at least I’m good at volleyball,” he said, puffing out his chest like he hadn’t just been floored by your throw.
You laughed again, shaking your head. “Fine, ‘Coach Soobin.’ Teach me your stupid game. But if you hit me in the face again, I’m turning you into shark bait.”
“Deal,” he said quickly, grabbing the ball and grinning like a kid who had just won a prize.
That day was a disaster. He tripped over the net, fell into the water at least three times, and nearly knocked himself out with his own serve. But by the end of it, both of you were laughing so hard that your sides hurt, and for a little while, the rest of the world didn’t matter.
The next few times Soobin made his way down to the shore, he didn’t expect the feeling of nervous anticipation that gripped him. It had become a habit now, sneaking out after closing the shop, eager to see you again, with each meeting always full of new surprises.
But today, you weren’t at your usual spot.
He waited, heart pounding as the minutes stretched by. He almost thought of leaving, convinced something must have happened, when a soft voice called out to him.
“Soobin.”
He turned, and there you were, sitting by the rocks just beyond the shore, your eyes gleaming with something that felt almost… mysterious. You held out your hand to him, a gesture that tugged at his curiosity.
“Follow me,” you said, voice quiet, yet full of something more. Something deeper.
Soobin hesitated for a brief moment, wondering what you had in mind, but without another thought, he waded in after you. You held his hand as you led him past the usual spots—past the rocks he’d become so familiar with, past the small grove of trees he thought he knew so well. Your movements were graceful, as though you were the ocean itself, and Soobin followed closely behind, his heart racing in anticipation.
After what felt like a while, you stopped, signaling for him to come closer. He reached you as you glided toward a narrow passage between the cliffs, the rocks towering high above you. It was easy to miss this path unless you knew where to look, and Soobin realized with a sudden breath of awe that he had discovered something truly secret—a sanctuary only you knew.
The narrow passage led to a cove, a secluded little inlet surrounded by jagged rocks, where the ocean stretched out in front of them. The water here was a soft, transparent blue, and the rocks lining the shore were smooth, almost sculpted. The scene before him felt like a dream, a hidden paradise where only you and the ocean seemed to exist.
“Soobin, this place is special,” you said softly as you sat down on one of the smooth rocks. “I come here when I need to think, when I want to be alone. But…” You hesitated before looking at him, your expression unreadable. “I wanted to share it with you.”
Soobin felt a mix of awe and gratitude flood through him. To him, this was more than just a secret spot; it was a part of you, a side of you that you were finally allowing him to see. He sat beside you on the smooth rocks, the weight of the gesture not lost on him. The silence was peaceful, comforting, like this space was made just for the two of you.
From that day on, Soobin made it a point to visit the cove every evening after closing the shop. At first, it was only once a week, then twice. But it quickly became a routine, and before long, it was every day. He couldn’t stay away. The cove had become his place too—a place where you two could be yourselves without any of the outside world’s noise. Each day, the moments you shared there grew more special, more intimate. Everyday, he’d give you a new kind of flower to take home. You’d splash water at each other, tell stories, and laugh at the little things. Sometimes, you’d sit together in silence, watching the sunset paint the sky in hues of pink and orange, the world seemingly stopping around you.
As the days passed, Soobin found himself growing more attached to you than he ever expected. It started as curiosity, wondering about the siren who had captured his attention, but now… now it was something more. Something he couldn’t quite name but couldn’t ignore.
And then, one evening as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in vibrant oranges and purples, Soobin found himself sitting beside you in the cove, his heart pounding, his hand just a little too close to yours. The routine, the bond—everything had led him to this moment. He couldn’t hold it in any longer.
He turned to you, his throat tight with nerves, and finally, he spoke the words he had been holding onto for so long.
office hours — professor!soobin x gradstudent!reader
cw. chubby!reader, reader is an adult grad student, minimal age gap, clear consent, petnames (babe, baby, honey, darling, good boy), mommy kink, face sitting, unprotected penetration, creampie, cunnilingus, handjobs, ending is cheesy, "epilogue" of sorts involves christmas vibes, kissing, please lmk if i'm missing anything. NSFW/MDNI
notes. i would feel irresponsible if i didn't acknowledge this is a romanticized portrayal of a professor-student relationship. while the relationship in this story has clear consent multiple times, irl relationships like this can be inappropriate and exploitative bc of the authority imbalance. you deserve a healthy, consensual relationship. prioritize ur well-being and autonomy. relationships should be built on mutual respect, equality and clear consent. this is a work of fiction and should be read as such.
shoutout to @silvergyus for sending the prof!soob pic <3
wc. 11.6k
“Which brings us to Le Chatelier's Principle in real-world chemical reactions,” Professor Choi says, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “This will be review for most of you, so I won’t go into too much detail.”
Chemistry is your favorite thing in the world. It’s real-life magic. And Professor Choi sees it that way too. His olive green chinos are wrinkled from walking from his office. The sleeves of his white button-down are pushed up so he can write freely on the whiteboard while his burgundy tie sways with his scurries.
Sparks of passion fill his eyes as he lectures. And he never disappoints with his cheesy jokes. Although you seem to be the only one that laughs at them—maybe you’re the only one that gets them. Not many students in his class are the experts in chemistry you are. You took it as a break from your intense course load and the elective credits are a nice bonus.
Most of your professors are so old they barely know how to turn on their laptop and are so deep into their tenure they’ve given up. If you bothered showing up to their office hours, you’d be lucky to find a professor, let alone a helpful one. So you’ve become a frequent visitor in Professor Choi’s office hours, talking about advanced chemistry he can’t wait to teach but it’ll be at least five years before he can. In the meantime, he’ll settle for nerding out with you in his office for a few hours every week.
“Great class today, everyone,” he says. “Have a great weekend and don’t hesitate to visit me during my office hours with any questions!” That sentence started out as a normal speaking voice but ended up a shout over the shuffling of the desk chairs and backpacks. You’re typically the last one out, but you save your questions for his office hours tomorrow.
-
“Hi,” you say, lightly tapping your knuckle against his office door.
Turning around in his chair, his lips form a pout in surprise at seeing you. “Were you waiting outside? Sorry that meeting ran a little long—” He shuffles to organize his desk.
“That’s okay.” Adjusting your bag on your shoulder, he rests his hands on his thighs and looks up at you. Did he just look you up and down? Don’t be ridiculous.
“What can I do ya for?”
“Right,” you start. “Can I…?” You ask, motioning toward the spare chair, waiting for his nod before sitting. “You know Professor Vaughn’s class?” You barely catch it, but his eyes roll. Professor Vaughn is the worst professor you’ve had. Boring, harsh, impatient. It doesn’t help he teaches one of the most complex forms of chemistry. “I’m not really getting this week’s content and was wondering if you could help me.”
“Of course.” He smiles. And it’s devastating. The sparkle in his eyes and those dimples. Craning his neck to look at your notes riddled with red question marks, he nods. As soon as he sees the title of your notes, he says, “Let’s think about this from a quantum mechanical perspective. If we assume that the π-complex is forming, we’re talking about a stabilization due to delocalization π-electrons, right?”
In what feels like no time at all, an hour has passed and the conversation has been the complete opposite of Professor Vaughn’s lectures. Questions led down rabbit holes, leading to other theorems and more questions. As he glances up at you through his glasses, there is an undeniable tingle in your stomach.
It’s not like you haven’t noticed how attractive Professor Choi is. He’s tall, lean but undeniably strong, he has the most perfect silky black hair and the prettiest brown eyes, and his pout—indescribably cute. And again—those goddamn dimples. He’s the perfect mixture of sexy, handsome, and pretty. You’d never think of doing anything with a professor, but you can’t help your mind wanders during the slower lectures.
How long have you been staring at each other in silence? Too long probably. He clears his throat. “Well,” he says, looking at his watch. “My office hours have been over for a few—”
“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry,” you say, stumbling as you stand, attempting to gather your things as quickly as possible. But he shakes his head, trying to shrug it off.
“That’s okay,” he says. “I, uh, I just have my emails waiting for me.”
You nod, shoving everything into your bag and heading out the door. What was that? You’re probably overreacting, you think to yourself. He’s charming because of his looks, there’s no way he’d— No. Don’t even finish that thought.
-
"How is it that someone who scored the highest in my theoretical chemistry exam is turning basic lab work into a spectacle of incompetence?" Professor Vaughn boasts over your right shoulder. No doubt his thick eyebrows are furrowed.
As your hands tighten around the test tube, you know exactly what to do—you always do—but everything slips through your fingers in his class.
"I’m trying to get the reaction to stabilize," you stammer, eyes darting between your hands, the chemical reagents lined up on the table, and your notebook.
Professor Vaugn’s expression hardens as he steps closer, looking down his nose at your station. "Trying is for high school sophomores. If you’re still trying, you’re behind."
Taking a deep breath, you carefully add three more drops to the mixture but the reaction goes wrong. Again. A plume of white smoke rises from the beaker, and the liquid turns an unexpected, muddy brown.
"Unbelievable," Vaughn mutters loud enough for everyone to hear. Everyone knows you’re the best student in your class. Well, everyone except Soren, who’s so jealous of your intelligence they can hardly stand it. They simply smirk. "I expected more from you."
Your heart sinks. You checked those calculations three times. Maybe it’s your shaky hands. Or the pressure of him looming over your shoulder. Or the other stuff on your mind.
"Are you going to sit there and guess again, or would you like to double down on failure with your next attempt?" Vaughn sneers, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"I’m not guessing, Professor. I—"
"Can’t manage a basic reaction?" Vaughn interrupts with his icy voice. "I’m beginning to wonder how you even made it into this program."
"I’m perfectly capable. The solution is just—"
"Wrong. Yes, we’ve established that." Vaughn’s lips curl into a patronizing sneer. "Maybe chemistry isn’t the field for you if this is the best you can manage." That got everyone’s attention—it would be an interesting sight to see you fail. It so rarely happens. Sure, you’ve been doubted before but have always proven yourself. Today would be no different.
You take a deep breath and count to yourself, One. Two. Three. Four. Five.
As you block out Vaughn’s piercing gaze and the weight of the other students’ eyes, you carefully remeasure the chemical, adjusting the proportions this time, methodically double-checking your work. You add the reagent once more, slowly, and watch as the solution begins to shift.
A moment passes. The reaction stabilizes and the solution turns a clear, pale blue.
"Finally," Vaughn mutters. You don’t even have to look at him to know he rolled his eyes. He turns to walk away but pauses. "Barely acceptable. Next time, you won’t be given the luxury of so many failures."
-
Bursting through the door upon dismissal, you can’t get to the restroom fast enough, barely making it to a stall before tears stream down your cheeks.
“One. Two. Three. Four. Five,” you whisper to yourself.
Sometimes, chemical reactions need to be dealt with instantly, but that’s an overwhelming amount of pressure. You give yourself five seconds before you absolutely have to deal with it. Same thing here. Cry. Count to five. Wipe your tears and move on.
But it’s difficult to move on this time. You’ve counted to five a few too many times today. But the only person you want to talk about it with is—
Professor Choi,
Are you available to meet me in Lab 270 tomorrow afternoon? I’ve been struggling with some reactions and could use some help. I’ll be there from 2:00—4:00.
If not, no worries!
Sniffling, you hit send on your email app, shove your phone in your bag and head home.
The next day drags on and on. Did he even get your message? Expecting an empty lab, you’re surprised to find Professor Choi waiting for you behind a laptop wearing a cute tweed jacket with suede elbow patches. His eyebrows are furrowed as his focused eyes study the computer, but they brighten at the sight of you.
Initially surprised by your confusion, he squeezes his eyes shut and says, “I didn’t respond to your email, did I?” He’s already got the lab station set up. How long has he been waiting on you? “So, how’s Professor Vaughn’s class?” Did someone tell him about yesterday? God, you hope not.
“Fine,” you deadpan. Shaking your head, you say, “I’m sorry…I’m just kinda stressed.”
“I can go if you need some time by—”
“No,” you say, softening your tone. “I’d really appreciate your help.”
And he’s more than willing, letting you ask whatever you want, never interrupting or talking over you like most of the men in the program. He gives you space to explore ideas and theories, listening closely instead of answering everything for you.
And he’s so damn sexy when he’s the one doing the ranting. The way he talks with his hands, ones that are so big with fingers so long you wish he would wrap around your—
“Shut up.”
“Excuse me?” He asks.
Oh shit, did you say that out loud? What a fucking nightmare. “Uh, sorry, just…talking to myself. Too many thoughts racing around the ole dome.”
A slight pout forms on his lips as he continues his rant. Now, the only thing you can think of are his lips wrapped around your—
“Ah!” Your hand slips toward the Bunsen burner and, great, now you’ve got a nice burn on your thumb.
“Oh gosh, are you okay?” He stands quickly. “Let me see.” His fingers graze your palm, igniting a fiercer burn than the actual flame just did. “Run it under cold water, okay?”
In the meantime, he straightens up your station before meeting you at the sink. “Is something wrong?” His words make you jump. “You seem distracted.”
That’s all it takes. The floodgates open. You rant about the sexist piece of shit Professor Vaughn and his power moves to intimidate you when he knows you’re the best student in the program. About how embarrassed you were in lab yesterday. Last semester when you raised your hand to correct an equation on the board and he gave you a firm talking to about respect after class.
He watches you carefully, handing over a towel for your hands as you take a steadying breath, fighting back tears.
“Did I ever tell you why I started studying chemistry?” he asks. You sniffle, shaking your head. “My grandfather. He was a baker.” His voice softens, and you look up to find his eyes full of kindness. “Every Saturday, he’d make me work in his bakery. I didn’t mind—it felt like magic, you know? But really, it’s science. It’s all precision, measurements, timing.”
A smile tugs at his lips. “Once, I tried baking a cake for my mom’s birthday, followed his recipe exactly. Measured the flour, the sugar, the cocoa. When I pulled it out of the oven, it was hard. Flat. I was sure he’d be disappointed, calling it a waste of time and ingredients. I was terrified. But he looked at it, smiled, and told me to try again the next day. When I asked why it didn’t work, he said I needed to ‘feel my way through it.’”
You sit there, the sting from your burn now fading, but your heart’s still aching, wanting something from him—a hug, a kiss, even just a pat on the shoulder.
“If I’d gotten it right the first time, I’d never know what overmixed batter looks like. Or that I like more cocoa than he did. Or that you should coat berries in flour.” His smile creeps up to his eyes. “Seeing how failure could make you better—it made me curious. I wanted to understand why some things worked and others didn’t, why I needed to feel my way through it, to get into the details.” He makes eye contact with you again. “That’s why I went into chemistry. Baking taught me the magic is in the little things—if you’re willing to screw up and keep going.”
Nodding, you smile back. His words hang in the air for a moment, like they’re meant to settle, but something’s missing.
“All I’m saying is, its okay to fuck things up, okay?” he says, his candidness drawing a chuckle from you. “How else would you learn?”
-
The world’s drained of color—only hazy shades of grey and beige are left. Your palms press against a cold marble countertop with the faint sound of running water echoing in the distance. The reflection of the mirror looks like you, but not quite. The woman in the mirror has her lips painted a dark, sultry brown, a shade you’d never choose. And the outfit is far too dressy for a lecture. Shadows fall where there shouldn’t be any.
The hallways are unfamiliar, yet you know it's the same building you visit almost every day. It's blurry, like you’re walking through a memory that isn’t yours.
You look down at the saddle shoes on your feet clicking against the tile floor, unnervingly filling the emptiness. It feels like someone else is controlling your body but you don’t question it. You can’t. Your hand raises, knuckles brushing a wooden door before it creaks open on its own.
On the other side of the door, Professor Choi faces a green chalkboard. Has that always been in his office? Hurriedly scribbling down equations, he glances between the board and the notebook in his hand. When he looks over his shoulder at you, his eyes soften and a slow smile spreads across his face. “Come in,” he says gently, setting his notebook aside. His voice wraps around you, making the room feel smaller, closer. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
Your spine tingles. “I know,” you reply, but the words sound hollow, like you’re speaking from somewhere else.
“Here,” he suggests, holding a piece of chalk out to you. The way he gestures toward the board is magnetic. As you take it from his hand, your fingers brush his. “What do you think of this?” An unfinished equation waits to be solved. His presence looms behind you, close but not quite touching as you reach up to solve it. Your heart pounds, every stroke of the chalk on the board heavier than it should.
“Impressive,” he murmurs, his voice low, rough around the edges. You turn to face him and he’s closer than expected, his warmth radiating against your skin. The air is thick with something unspoken. You step closer, tentative at first, then quicker, more certain. Your lips almost brush his, but he pulls back, his breath catching.
He looks down, your name a whisper on his lips, soft and pained. “I—” His eyes flicker up to meet yours, then fall back down like the weight of your gaze is too much.
“What?” You ask, your voice barely more than a breath. Your eyes dart between his, lingering on his tempting mouth. He leans in again with desire in his eyes. He wants to kiss you. You can feel it. And for a moment you think he might.
But he pulls away, his forehead nearly resting against yours. “I don’t think we should be doing this,” he says, his voice strained, as if saying the words is physically painful for him.
“Why not?” The question slips from your lips before you can stop it, frustration and longing lacing your tone.
His hands flex at his sides, like he’s fighting the urge to touch you. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to, or—”
“Why would I feel like that?” you interrupt, your voice impatient. Your heart races, pounding in your ears, drowning out reason.
“I’m your professor,” he breathes out like it’s a curse. His words only fan the flames of the tension building between you. There’s nothing wrong with that, you think to yourself. It’s not like you’re fresh out of high school—you’re a grad student, close to starting the same PhD he earned barely three years ago. He’s no more than five years older.
“I don’t care,” you insist, stepping even closer, your lips a breath away from his. “I want you to kiss me.”
His eyes darken, his resolve faltering as his gaze drops to your lips. “It’s a mistake,” he whispers, but his voice trembles with indecision, trying to convince himself more than you.
“Make the mistake,” you urge, your voice soft but sure. Your hand reaches for his tie, tugging as light as you can just to bring him that much closer. “You said it yourself, it’s okay to fuck things up.”
There’s a beat of silence, so thick it feels as though the room itself is holding its breath, waiting. And in that moment, the space between you seems to collapse, the weight of everything unsaid pulling you closer.
The millisecond before your lips touch, you breathe awake.
You bolt straight up, feeling around your soft bed sheets, breathless as your heart pounds from the vividness of it all. For a moment, you linger in the feeling, brushing your fingers over your lips, feeling the warmth of the almost kiss. But reality sinks in and your stomach drops.
Reaching for your phone, you check the time. Great, it’s almost time for his class. But there’s no hazy world to hide in. Skipping class might be an option but an exam reminder drags you out of bed.
-
Trudging across campus, your stomach sinks lower with each step. How can you look him in the eye? Dropping your bag to the floor with a thud, you hang your head low. Let’s just get through this exam and get outta here.
“How’s your hand?” Professor Choi’s voice shakes you out of your thoughts. “Sorry,” he chuckles, holding his hands up. “Didn’t mean to scare ya.” Looking at you like you’re the cutest puppy he’s ever seen, you can’t bring yourself to speak, but you hold out your hand. The second his fingertips touch yours, you flinch and jerk it back.
“Um—” you start. “Better, thanks.” Turning away from him, you distract yourself with a random notebook from your bag.
“...You okay? You shouldn’t be nervous about the exam.” When you look up, you’re met with eyes that appear…hurt?
“No, it’s not that.” That’s not a good answer. “Just…” What would you even say? I had an incredibly vivid—and delicious—dream about you last night and now I need to know how your lips feel in real life? “Cramps.”
“Ah.” He nods and leaves you alone, awkwardly walking to the front of the class to make some announcements and general good wishes before the exam. With your fist pressed to your chin, you refuse to look up, hanging your head low even as he slides you your copy.
There’s a bright green post-it stuck to it with a note, It’s okay to fuck it up! Your heart races as your eyes dart around searching for him. When you find him, he gives you a soft smile. You return the smile but rush to unstick it before anyone sees, storing it in your notebook for safe keeping.
-
As you return to your apartment, the post-it stares back at you like you’re the guiltiest son-of-a-bitch in the world. It’s practically calling you a whore. And you can hardly take it anymore. You can’t bring yourself to face him for class a few days later—although skipping feels like a cardinal sin. Soon enough, though, your email dings.
From: Choi Soobin, PhD
I noticed you were absent from class today. I hope everything’s okay. The lecture notes are attached for your reference. Feel free to stop by my office hours with any questions.
Professor Choi
Did your heart just flutter? Why are you walking toward his office? When you knock on the door, he stands—more like stumbles—to greet you, “Hi!”
“Hi, Professor Choi…” You linger in the doorway, clutching your notebook tight to your chest. “Sorry I missed class—”
“Is everything alright?”
“Yeah—”
“You’re not overwhelmed with coursework, are you?” His eyes search yours, and there’s a softness in his voice that makes it hard to look away.
“No, no, I’m alright. I just…had a migraine this morning,” you say, shrugging slightly. “It’s gone now, though.”
He nods, easing into a warm smile. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.” His gaze doesn’t waver and the intensity makes your pulse quicken. “So, I’m guessing you’re here to go over questions from the lecture?”
“Actually, it’s Professor Vaughn’s class I’m struggling with. His lecture today was…brutal.”
“I’m shocked,” he says sarcastically. “The man’s got a gift for making simple concepts sound like Greek.”
“Exactly,” you laugh, the tension in your shoulders easing. “I thought it was me, but he seems to take pride in making everything harder than it needs to be.”
“Trust me, it’s not you,” he says, a glint of warmth in his eyes. “He’s terrible. And annoying. And boring. And I’d tell him that.”
You raise a brow, skeptical. “You wouldn’t.”
“Well…” He breaks into a grin. “Maybe after I reach tenure. Though he may be retired by then.”
“Or dead,” you say matter-of-factly. He looks at you awkwardly then you both laugh, genuinely. There’s an ease to it.
He gestures to your notebook. “Alright, let’s see what we’re dealing with.”
-
“I can’t believe I’m laughing at that,” you say, a giggle escaping your lips.
“You always laugh at my bad jokes,” he replies, staring at your face a little too longingly. If you were anyone else, he might find some excuse to touch you. Maybe brush a piece of lint off your shoulder, lightly touch your arm while he laughed at something you said, or something as casual as a fist bump.
If he were any other guy, you’d be much more obvious, making it crystal clear you want him to kiss you right now. But you can’t. You don’t even know how he thinks about you. You’re probably just another student to him.
“Well, those are all my questions,” you say, awkwardly packing your bag.
“Yeah, you can, uh…head out…” he trails off as you start to rise from your seat.
You’re searching for something to say, something to let you stay just a little longer. But nothing comes. He watches you walk toward the door, the silence hanging in the space between you.
“Pens!” His voice suddenly burst out, loud enough to make you stop mid-step. “They, uh—I went to a conference last week and they gave me a ton,” he says, scrambling to gather a handful from his desk.
You take them, your fingers brushing against his in a way that feels far too intimate. His eyes lock with yours, the touch sending a ripple of tension through you. “But you’re, uh…picky about your pens, aren’t you?” He asks, his voice softer now, almost unsure.
Laughing quietly, you say, “Yeah, but…that’s okay.” Your words are heavy with subtext you can’t bring yourself to say out loud. “Well, goodbye.” You offer him a smile, stepping back toward the door. “Thanks again.”
“Yeah. Goodbye,” he says, but his feet shuffle forward as if he’s moving without thinking. Awkwardly reaching for a handshake, he realizes your hands are occupied. Instead, he reaches around you for the door handle, but he gets a tad too close and your brain scrambles.
Before you can hold yourself back, you drop the pens, letting them clatter to the floor as your arms wrap around his neck. Your lips meet his in a rush, warm and soft. While your eyes close to savor the feeling, his widen in shock before he relaxes into your touch and wraps his hands around your waist, pulling you closer.
It’s everything you’ve been holding back—unspoken feelings unraveling in a heartbeat. His lips move against yours with a hunger that surprises you, the world melting away as you lose yourself in the moment. You feel weightless, your pulse racing as his hands grip your waist a little tighter, as though he’s afraid to let you go.
When you finally break apart, breathless and dazed, he presses his forehead to yours, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “You’re never gonna use those pens, are you?” he asks, his voice low and rough, like he’s trying to anchor himself in humor, trying to bring himself back down to earth.
You laugh, shaking your head. “No,” you admit, your heart still pounding. “They’re garbage.”
Before you can think, you kiss him again and this time, he doesn’t hesitate. His mouth crashes into yours with an urgency, like he’s wanted to kiss you since the second he laid eyes on you. His lips are soft, but his kiss is demanding, making up for all the lost moments between you. For those few minutes, nothing else matters—you bask in one of the greatest kisses either of you have ever had. But not for long.
Reality catches up too quickly. You pull away suddenly, breathless and wide-eyed. “Oh my god—” you gasp, backing up, your fingers graze your lips trying to make sense of what just happened. “I’m so sorry—”
“No,” he interrupts quickly, shaking his head. “Don’t be. I—” He’s stumbling through his words, just as lost as you are but neither of you regret it. “I wanted—”
“That was…” You can’t even finish your sentence. It was everything. Too much, too fast, too real. But you can’t take it back.
“I—” He’s trying to find the right words, to reassure you, to tell you he felt it too, that he wanted it just as badly. But he’s as flustered as you are, his voice rough and unsure.
“I’ll just…go throw myself off a bridge now,” you mumble. You can’t even look at him as you make a beeline for the door, your face burning with embarrassment. You think you hear him say something, but the blood rushing in your ears drowns it out.
You leave the room quickly, your heart about to burst through your chest, trying to process what just happened. The kiss lingers on your lips, a mix of exhilaration and terror swirling inside you. It’s too much to handle.
But, hey, there’s one bit of good news. At least he kissed you back.
-
What the fuck are you supposed to do now? Drop his class? It’s too late in the semester for that. And you need those credits. Wait until the end of the semester to talk to him again? Can you go that long without his lips on yours again?
Back at your apartment, you rummage through your books to find the university’s code of conduct, hurriedly searching for anything related to “appropriate relationships,” “faculty-student relationships,” “consensual,” blah blah blah, whatever the university has coded sleeping with a professor.
The University strongly urges those individuals in positions of authority not to engage in conduct of an amorous or sexual nature with a person they are, or are likely in the future to be, in a position of evaluating.
Your eyes read over the words, “strongly urges” once more. Not totally against the rules, you suppose. Even if you did wait until the semester was over, you’d need to report it. You wish you could talk with him about it, but bringing this up is tricky. Is it moving too fast? You can’t text him, you don’t have his number. And using your student email to send a message to his faculty email that says, “Oh, by the way, I checked the rules and we’re in the clear to have sex!” is a terrible idea.
Maybe one kiss in his office doesn’t mean anything. Oh, but it was everything.
-
After much deliberation, you convince yourself to attend his class a few days later. You’ve brought the code of conduct along, as well as a bright pink post-it sticking out of the book. To avoid any form of small talk with him, you wait outside right until the start of class.
Along the way to your desk, you silently plop the code of conduct on his desk and scurry away. When you work up the courage to look up at him, he’s flipped to the marked page. Highlighted on the page is the paragraph that “strongly urges” people in positions of authority not to sleep with students.
He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed. The message couldn’t be clearer, he thought. You’re practically telling him to leave you alone. But when he finally reads the post-it, his heart flutters. Written in your handwriting, it says, It’s okay to fuck it up! complete with a smiley face.
As much as he tries to fight it, he glances up at you to catch your gaze. And just as the slightest smile appears on his face, a big one appears on yours. You hide it with your palm as you start at the blank page of your notebook. Blinking, he shakes his head and begins his lecture. But how can you concentrate now?
You’ve gotta give it to him, he delivers his lecture perfectly. If it were you, you’d barely be able to think. Hell, you barely can throughout the whole thing.
Now that you’ve gotten that smile of permission, you finally let yourself daydream.
Has his ass always been that cute?
Has he always been that tall?
Has his voice always been that deep and sexy?
You don’t even know what he’s talking about, but that’s okay, you can always stop by his office hours. “What do you think?” He asks.
Oh shit, he’s looking at you for an answer. He can always rely on you to keep class moving along when everybody else is dead silent. You shake out of your thoughts, panic-reading the board to come up with something. It's similar to your discussion you had the last time you went to his office hours. The time that ended in that gorgeous kiss. Throwing together an answer, his eyes brighten as he cheers, “Exactly!”
Oh my god. He’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. You could just gobble him up.
-
“So, I suppose we should talk about…” Professor Choi trails off, leaving the sentence hanging in the air like it’s obvious what he’s getting at. And it is. But you stay quiet. You wanna hear him admit it. You raise an eyebrow, playing coy.
You decided to press your luck by visiting his office outside scheduled office hours—right after class—to simply test the waters and gauge his reaction to the code of conduct and that kiss…that incredible kiss.
“You know…” He gestures vaguely between the two of you, sighing like okay, fine, I guess I’ll say it. “I like you and you like me, right?” His voice dips just slightly, enough for you to notice the hesitation. “Unless I’m totally misreading—”
“No! You’re not…misreading anything,” you’re quick to say, along with a chuckle. Phew—he was worried there for a second. So goddamn cute. “What do you wanna talk about?”
He exhales a small laugh, but his smile is strained, cautious. “I want to make sure you don’t feel…weird about this.” Hand sliding nervously along the edge of his desk, he traces the wood grain before his eyes flick up to meet yours. Truth be told, he’d never do something like this with a student. Never want to make anyone feel pressured. But he never thought he’d feel like this. Giddy and blushy like you’re his first crush.
“Why would I feel weird?” You tilt your head, genuinely curious. You’ve thought about this—about him—far too much for any of it to feel weird.
“I’m just terrified you feel like you need to do something about this.” You’re taken aback, confusion visibly etched across your face. “You know, because I’m your professor or because I’m in the department and I know your plans for a PhD here.” His voice softens, vulnerability creeping in. “I don’t want it to feel like I’m pushing you into anything.”
“I don’t,” you say gently. “It’s not like that.”
He nods, though the tightness in his jaw doesn’t disappear. “Because if you ever even remotely feel like I’m pressuring you, I want you to tell me. Immediately. I mean it.”
“No,” You shake your head, almost too fast. “I mean, it doesn’t feel like that. Not at all. I’ve thought about this…about us, a lot.” Your voice falters for a moment as his eyes widen, softening in a way that makes your stomach flutter. You weren’t expecting him to look at you like that—so open, so relieved.
His fingers twitch as if he’s resisting the urge to reach out to you. “Yeah?”
You nod again, more confidently this time. “But I think we should wait until the semester’s over. Before we…you know…do anything.”
He smiles gently and leans back, visibly more at ease. “I think so too.”
But you didn’t realize how fucking difficult it would be to get through the last six weeks of the semester. Every class you sit there, thighs pressed together thinking about the dirtiest things you want him to do to you. Every office hour you went to, you could practically swim through the thickness of the tension between you two.
It didn’t help how cute he was being. Post-its he’d leave on every exam of yours—You’re gonna do great! You’ve got this. Trust your instincts.—encouragement no other student got. You kept every one of them in your bedside table drawer.
When finals week finally arrives, it wasn’t just about exams; it was about counting the hours until you could finally be with him. Or at least talk to him like he wasn’t your professor. As he handed over your final exam, the familiar green post-it note was stuck to it: Happy Finals Week!
Your internal scream was so loud, you’re worried your classmates heard it. You’d pre-written a post-it to stick to it once you returned the exam. It had your phone number, a smiley face, and the words: Since you’re not my professor anymore.
-
After a full day of checking your phone every twenty seconds, you started to give up. Was he just playing you? Did someone else see the note? Did he change his mind? But finally, you receive a text.
hi! this is soobin (professor choi lol). i was wondering if you wanted to get dinner or something?
soobin!! omg yes i would love to get dinner with you :) how’s tomorrow?
how about right now?
if you want, of course! no pressure
we can totally wait until tomorrow
it’s up to you
You squealed into your pillow, kicking and giggling like an idiot. Should you be flirty back?
i can be ready in 30 min. 364 oakridge drive. it’s an apartment building- i’ll meet you downstairs.
be there in 45 :)
-
Like a perfect gentleman, Soobin meets you at the passenger door, swinging it open with a charming smile before gently closing it behind you. The slow walk up to his front door makes your stomach stir. He has to fumble through his keys to unlock it.
Once inside, he slips his shoes off quietly, revealing cozy patterned socks that make you smile. Meticulously, he hangs his jacket on a coat tree and places his keys in a speckled clay catch-all that rests on a table next to a houseplant. As he walks toward the kitchen, he glances over his shoulder, his voice low and inviting. “Do you want a drink or something?” The warmth in his gaze makes your heart skip a beat.
You’re drawn to this softer side of him. In class, his tone is bright and dorky. In his office, it’s casual and laid-back. At dinner, it was sweet and charming. But now? Now it’s sultry, almost sexy. Like he can’t wait to be with you but would never, ever pressure you.
“Hot tea?” You suggest with a steady voice, despite the butterflies in your stomach.
“Sounds good,” he agrees, switching on his tea kettle. In the meantime, you take a look around his much neater than expected apartment.
The mid-century modern furniture is impeccably arranged—a sleek sofa, a low coffee table, and a stylish armchair with an even more stylish decorative pillow. Perfectly nurtured plants thrive around the room, adding a green vibrancy to the minimalist backdrop, breathing life into the space. A gallery wall above his expensive-looking couch features travel photos, beautiful art, and a few subtly science-inspired pieces. In the corner across the couch is a sleek electric fireplace underneath a huge TV.
“Who’s this?” you ask, your heart swelling as a fluffy gray cat glares at you through one half-open eye. Her perfectly groomed fur and regal posture make her look like she owns the place. Just then, Soobin steps into the living room, holding two steaming mugs of tea, filling the air with a warm spice.
“That’s Molly…short for Molecule,” he says. “Don’t worry, she’s sweet.”
Extending your hand toward the cat, he starts to sniff you. “Hi, M—wait,” you pause, looking up at Soobin with a teasing smile. “Molly, short for Molecule?” He nods, his grin widening. “You’re adorable,” you tell him. Has anyone ever blushed quite like he did just now?
He stares down at his feet, clearly caught off guard. “You’re,” he starts. “Well, you’re cute too.” His sincerity makes your smile grow even stronger.
“Can I sit?” you ask, nodding toward the couch.
“Oh,” his smile falters for a moment. “Yes, of course. Make yourself at home.” You plop down on his couch, settling into the surprisingly soft cushions. Molly clearly doesn’t think the couch is big enough for the two of you, so she strides over to probably the nicest cat tree you’ve ever seen.
You sip your hot tea and your body finally relaxes. As you reach to sit it on the coffee table, he politely asks, “I don’t mean to be a square, but can you use a coaster?”
“Of course,” you say, complying with the request. “So, tell me,” you begin, clearing your throat. “How’d I do on my final?” Humming, he stands to rummage through his messenger bag slumped over a dining chair. You gasp, “A ninety-seven?” Thumbing through the pages, you find a single red X on possibly the easiest question you’ve had on an exam since high school: What is the atomic number of oxygen? “Are you kidding me?”
Any attempt to mask your embarrassment is impossible. It only deepens when you look up and catch him already watching you—lips pressed tight, failing miserably to hide a smug, amused smile.
“I, uh…” You scratch the back of your neck. “I got that one wrong on purpose. You know, so as to not raise any suspicion.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, did you now?” You nod. “That was on the exam just so Toby wouldn’t get a zero.” You nod begrudgingly. “And you put 10! That’s not even close. That’s—”
“Neon,” you grumble. “Yeah I know…” you say, avoiding his eyes as he laughs playfully.
“Neon’s a noble gas and oxygen is a—”
“Reactive nonmetal,” you cut him off. “I know, okay?” You shove his shoulder playfully, but your grin betrays you. “It was a high-pressure environment. Sitting in an exam room with your professor watching you."
"I barely looked up from my laptop,” he reminds you.
"Your presence is distracting enough," you shoot back, eyes sparkling with mischief.
"Ah, so my intellectual aura threw you off?”
“I dunno…is that what you think, professor?” You ask cheekily. “Maybe it was something else.” You’ve tossed the exam onto the coffee table, moving closer.
“Like what?”
“Just…you. You’re distracting.” You smirk, the words slipping out almost involuntarily, like they’ve been waiting on the tip of your tongue.
Intrigued, he tilts his head and asks, “What about me?” There’s something magnetic in the way he looks at you—like he knows the answer but wants to hear you say it, to savor the way it sounds coming from your lips.
You hum, tracing the lines of his body with your eyes, mapping out uncharted territory before exploring it. You don’t want to move too fast, but every fiber of your being screams for more. He’s not lighting a fire inside you—he’s setting the whole forest ablaze. Sure, your imagination has been running rampant since he returned your feelings six weeks ago, but now that you’re here, he scrambles every thought.
“Your eyes…” you say while yours flick over his face, taking in every curve, every freckle, every lash. “They’re so pretty.”
A smile—small but real—tugs at the corners of his lips. The kind that’s private, meant just for you. His eyes darken as he leans in, the space between you shrinking. You glance down, noticing the way his long fingers curl around the mug handle. There’s something almost hesitant in the way he holds it. You take it from him gently, setting it atop a coaster as quietly as you can.
“Your hands…” you whisper, fingers barely brushing his knuckles, tension coiled under his skin. They’re hands that have worked, experimented, written things down—hands you want on you. Guiding one to your thigh, the squeeze he returns sends a shudder through you.
Everything between you is electric. Your breaths come faster now, more desperate. Every inch you move toward him is a test, a slow-motion collapse of restraint.
“Your legs…” A soft breathless chuckle escapes as you glance down. His lips part like he’s about to speak, but you don’t give him the chance. Boldness surges through you like a current and you hike one leg over both of his, straddling him. The shift is seismic. His hands move to your hips, gripping you, afraid to let go. The heat of his touch spreads through you, anchoring you in place, though it feels like everything around you is spinning.
“And your lips…” you murmur, leaning closer, your breath mingling with his. “Oh my god, those fucking lips.” You can’t stop staring at them, just a breath away now, soft and wet. Your pulse races.
You cup his face, lifting his chin until his eyes meet yours again. His pupils are blown wide, the desire in them unmistakable. Your thumb brushes his bottom lip, and the moment stretches, suspended. You lean in just enough to feel his breath on your lips.
“Kiss me,” you whisper.
And he does.
It isn’t tentative—it’s dam-breaking. Like he’s been starving for it, holding back for years. His lips are soft but urgent as his hands tighten around your hips to pull you closer. You taste jasmine tea on his lips, a subtle sweetness mingling with the spice of his cologne—clove, pepper, something dark and addictive.
“Holy shit,” you whisper against his lips. “I can’t believe I had to wait so long to kiss you again.” You kiss him again and he moans sweetly into your mouth. Just as the kiss deepens, he retreats, his breath ragged. “You okay?”
Nervously nodding, he says, “Yeah,” but his eyes flicker away. He tries to kiss you again, but you place your hand on his chest, gently stopping him.
“Wait,” you say, eyes searching his face. “What’s going on? Am I being too—”
“No,” he says, almost a little too urgently. “It’s not that. It’s just…” His hands fall to the couch. Bracing to tell the truth, he squeezes his eyes shut before adding, “I need to tell you something.” You sit back on your heels, still in his lap but giving him room to speak.
“What is it?” You ask softly.
“There’s this thing… I haven’t—uh…” He stumbles over the words, his fingers twitching at his sides.
“Soobin?” you ask, your voice gentle but steady. That’s the first time you’ve called him by his first name. It feels utterly…vulnerable. “Are you a virgin?” The question is delicate. Shutting his eyes again, he takes a deep breath.
“No,” he says. “Well, not exactly.” You narrow your eyes at him. What is that even supposed to mean? “It’s just…it’s been a while. And before then, I hadn’t had a lot of sex. And I haven’t had any…recently.”
“How long?” you encourage, your eyes softening.
“A year.”
You hum softly in acknowledgement, watching his confidence falter. Instead of pulling back, you lean forward, trailing slow, deliberate kisses along his neck. He trembles under your touch, a soft gasp escaping his lips, your hands moving all over his body, claiming him.
“Oh, Professor Choi,” you whisper, your voice dripping with heat and promise. “We’re gonna have so much fun.”
-
As your breath slows, you sit up and let your hand linger over his chest, feeling his heartbeat under your palm. “Tell me,” you start. “What do you like?”
“Um,” he swallows, trying to force the lump down his throat. He’s so hesitant but he finally says, “Touching.”
“You touching my body or me touching yours?”
He exhales shakily. “The first,” he says, confirming with a squeeze to your hips.
You hum against his ear. What are you gonna do with him? Tease him forever? Let him have his way with you? You ask, “Why don’t you take my shirt off for me?”
Gracing his hands over your arms, he grounds himself again before asking, “You sure?”
“I’m sure.” You nod, guiding his hands to the top button of your blouse, letting him slip it through the buttonhole. One by one, he exposes more of your skin, his heart thumping harder with each passing second. Pushing the silky fabric past your shoulders until your top half is only covered by a bubblegum pink mesh bra, leaving almost nothing to the imagination—except for the red embroidered hearts over your nipples.
After easing the shirt out from your trousers, you reach back to pull at the sleeves, letting the shirt fall to the floor. He slips his finger under one of your bra straps, pulling it to the side, but you stop him. “Wait. It’s your turn.”
Tugging on his tie, you slip it through the collar and unbutton his dress shirt. Seeing his body bare in front of you for the first time, you’re practically drooling. You indulge in running your hands all over his body, lean with subtle muscles, from his chest to the bottom of his abs.
“How come you got to touch me if I didn’t get to touch you?” He asks innocently.
“You’re right,” you chuckle. “I’m sorry.” You smile and sit up to press your palms against his and let your fingers intertwine. Your heart melts and you fear you may throw up. “Did you want to take my bra off first?” He nods. Fumbling fingers reach behind you to snap it off, letting it fall to the couch. As he sees your bare tits, his eyes widen and he lets out the cutest little Oh.
He’s hesitant to do anything. You have to guide his hands to massage your tits—and they’re the perfect size for you.
“You’re so…soft,” he says, looking up at your eyes, like he’s not sure if that was okay to say.
“You like them?” He nods eagerly. Experimentally swiping a thumb across a nipple, it hardens at his touch while you let out a sharp gasp.
“You like that,” he says matter-of-factly. “Can I taste?” Nodding, you lean forward, welcoming his lips. His body finally relaxes as he moans against your skin. Circling the tip of his tongue around your nipple, he’s teasing you. And oh my god do you love it.
One of your hands threads through his hair and you stuff the other down your pants, but he grabs your wrist softly.
“That’s not fair,” he whispers and you concede, keeping your hands to yourself. With one hand, he stuffs your tit back in his mouth while the other plays with your other nipple. His hot, wet mouth on one nipple and his teasing fingers playing with the other sends waves of pleasure through you that may send you over the edge.
If you don’t do something to ease your need, you’re not sure how much longer you’ll be able to take this. You resort to grinding against his hard cock, making his hips buck.
Lifting your legs off his, you swing around to sit next to him, palming his cock over his trousers. Desperately clawing at the waistband, you unbutton and unzip his pants, encouraging him to kick them off. He stands to slip them off and as you reach for the band of his boxers, he stops you.
“Your turn,” he whispers. And you comply. But not without a show. Standing slowly, you push him to the couch and turn your back to him. As you push your pants down, your ass looks delicious in your thong that matches your bra—mesh bubblegum pink with red trim. When you turn back, he’s fisting himself over his underwear.
“Nuh-uh, that’s not fair,” you say. Returning next to him on the couch, you feel him over his boxers and your mouth waters. Goddamn you can’t wait for him to be inside you. “Do you have any lube?” He nods and shortly returns with a barely used tube.
While he stays standing, you sit up on the couch, running your hands across his muscular thighs and perfect pelvis. Looking up at him, his eyes are bright, darting all over your body like he’s afraid to miss something. He fiddles with his waistband, flipping the elastic over softly. A small smile flicks across your lips before you tug his boxers down his legs, leaving trails of kisses along the way.
Encouraging him to sit down, you look down at his cock, long and hard and dripping with precum. Finally, you drag your fingertips up and down his cock before squeezing him. He moans like you’ve never heard a man moan before. Laying your head on his shoulder, you sprinkle kisses all over his skin, finding a spot behind his ear that makes him squirm.
He hisses and—almost involuntarily—wraps one of his hands around yours to use his long fingers to guide your hand up and down. There’s something magical about someone with so little experience telling—no, showing—you what to do with his body. It’s electrifying. He hasn’t been touched in so long that he’s desperate to get off and can’t waste time with words. But no words need to be shared. His movements tell you what speed he likes.
Snaking his other arm around you, he stuffs his fingers in your hair and clenches his fist, subconsciously tugging the strands. His lips are right against your ear, breathing rapidly and heavily and he can hardly take it anymore. You watch his chest rise and fall as he clenches your hair, moaning getting quicker, he squeaks and whines.
Hurriedly pressing his lips to your temple, you can’t take your eyes off his cock as he shoots short spurts of cum all over his stomach. It takes a moment for him to catch his breath before he gives you a sweet smile.
You don’t let up with kisses all over his body. Sprinkling kisses here and there while he cleans himself up with a hand towel he’d brought with him when he got the lube from his bedroom. Once he’s clean, he slouches down the couch.
“Will you sit on my face?” His eyes are ever so sweet and innocent, like he’s finally able to test all his fantasies. “Please…” You hum like you’re only considering it, but we all know you’ll say yes. “Please, mommy?” Everything halts.
“Mommy?”
“F-fuck—” he sits up, ears turning redder than you’ve ever seen them—anyone’s ears for that matter. “I’m sorry, I should’ve asked first—”
“No, no…” you say gently, cupping his jaw to make him look at you. You can’t help yourself—you press your lips to his again and you lose yourself in his intoxicating kiss. But you break it and say, “Keep calling me that.”
“M-mommy?” You hum. Before you give him what he asked for, you shove your tit in front of his lips. He doesn’t need to be told what to do. His plush lips wrap around your hard nipple while he thumbs the other. It feels like fucking heaven.
“That’s my good boy.” He lets out the most pathetic whimper you’ve ever heard in your goddamn life. His eyebrows furrow, looking up at you through his lashes. “Are you my good boy?”
“Yes,” he says, nodding eagerly. “Yes, mommy. Of course.”
“Soobin,” you breathe in disbelief, dropping your head back. “You’re so sexy, I swear to god.”
“Nuh-uh,” he shakes his head. “That’s you.” He smiles. “Will you please sit on my face now?” He slouches down again without waiting for an answer. “Please.” You hike your leg up to rest your foot against the back of the couch, gently hovering over him. But he wraps his hands around your hips to yank you down. As he flicks his tongue over your clit, you might be embarrassed by the volume of your moan, but there’d be no reason to.
“I thought you said you didn’t do this a lot?”
“Well,” he takes a deep breath. “This was always what I was best at.” You chuckle. “Wait, no—” he shakes his head. “I’m good at the other stuff too. I hope.” Returning his tongue to your clit, you gasp and fall forward, bracing yourself against the back of the couch. He seizes the opportunity to get fully entranced in your taste.
There's an impossible contrast—your body melts, muscles soft and pliant as you surrender to the pleasure but, at the same time, goosebumps prickle along your skin, sharp and electric. Warmth and vulnerability layered with a thrill that leaves you shivering, somehow both at ease and on edge.
But then he snakes his hand behind your ass to tease your asshole with his pinky. And it's overwhelming. Your knees are so weak you can hardly hold yourself up. The way his hands feel on your body, touching you in all the right places, flicking his tongue perfectly, moaning so temptingly along with the built up tension—it is so much. So. Fucking. Much.
It builds in your stomach—teetering on the edge and god you only hope he doesn’t stop what he’s doing. But you can’t form words to tell him that. But he knows.
And then it happens.
You feel like you’re floating—or falling may be more accurate—as your orgasm washes over you, thighs quite literally quivering around his face as you come undone on top of him. For him. Unable to hold yourself up any longer, you roll and plop to the couch and he sloppily replaces his tongue with his fingers. You make a mental note to show him exactly where your clit is later. How is it that he found it so easily with his tongue but missed it with his hand? You guess he was right—oral is what he’s best at. Your chest heaves with your deep breaths as you come down from your high, watching him smirk at you.
“Oh my god,” you say breathlessly. There’s a beat of silence. “What the fuck?”
“What?” He chuckles.
“I wasn’t expecting that.”
“I told you I’m good at it.”
“Where’s your bedroom? This couch is too small for what we’re about to do.”
Once he shuts his bedroom door to keep Molly out, he pulls you by your waist to press his bare body to yours and kisses you again so romantically it takes your breath away.
“Wow,” he whispers against your lips. “You’re so beautiful.”
“Oh my god, shut up.” You go straight back in for more kisses. But you break it— “But not literally, though. Please keep saying stuff like that.” You giggle together, slowly falling toward the bed until you’re gently laid on your back and he’s over top of you.
“Can I, like, kiss all over your body?”
“Of course,” you say. “You don’t need to ask.”
And then he does exactly what he wants. Starting at your lips, he moves to the corner of your mouth, trailing behind your ear and down your neck. The way his breath tickles your neck sends shivers down your spine and you need more, more, more.
As you lay there, simply basking in the feeling of him taking his time exploring every inch of you with the softest lips you’ve ever felt, you can’t help but be giddy. He’s tentative in some areas and eager in others. After he kisses the sensitive skin under your breast, he carefully observes your reaction. When he delicately presses his lips to your pelvis, his eyes flutter up to yours nervously.
“Soobin,” you say breathlessly. He hums against your tummy, shaky hands running up your thighs. “I need you please.”
“You need me?” You nod. “Where do you need me, mommy?” You groan, arching your back, not even knowing where to start. You need him everywhere.
“Inside me,” you say. “Please, I’ve been thinking about it for so long.”
“Have you?” He asks innocently, using his fingers to play with the folds of your pussy so casually, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. “I should be the impatient one.” But you know why he’s taking it so slow. He’s nervous as hell right now.
Aligning his cock with your entrance, he slowly pushes himself inside you. And it's utterly exhilarating. For both of you. He falls forward, framing your face with his forearms, digging his nose into your neck.
“Fuck…” He whispers shakily. Your nails drag down his back at his inexperienced hip rolls. “Oh my god, what are you doing to me?” Despite his inevitable desperation, his thrusts are controlled. He’s trying his very best at least. But his cock is so fucking perfect, you figure he’d make you feel good no matter what he does. Although, a little part of you thinks about how good he’ll be at fucking you in a few months after a little practice. Or lots of practice.
He whispers swears, your name, and mommy…over and over again. Then he sits up, looking down at your body. Awkwardly fumbling as if he wants to say something, his mouth isn’t cooperating with his brain. He slowly comes to a stop, sliding out of you and barely touches your calf.
“Can you, uh…would you mind, um—”
"Do you wish to see me on my knees? Is that it, darling?"
“Yes, mommy…please, I’ve never—”
“You’ve never had someone on their knees for you?” You ask and he silently shakes his head. “You’ve been such a good boy for me. Of course I’ll get on my knees for you.” You oblige to his request, turning yourself around and arching your back to give him a perfect view of your ass. He groans at the simple sight of your body. He swipes his hands over the swell of your ass, squeezing here and there.
He clears his throat and asks, “What do I do?”
“Oh,” you chuckle lightly. “Just get on your knees and guide yourself in. Make sure it’s the right hole,” you say light-heartedly, trying to ease the tension a bit.
But when he’s finally inside you again, it’s heaven. And he indulges in himself a bit—thrusting faster, harder, making your ass jiggle. The lewd sounds of his cock in your wetness and his hips smacking your skin makes it all the more erotic. But it doesn’t take long before—
“I like it better the other way, I think,” he says matter-of-factly. “Is that okay?”
“Of course that’s okay, babe,” you say, flipping back over and spreading your legs. And he slides right back inside you, letting his head fall back. But your tits bouncing are simply too tempting not to look at. They’re why he prefers it this way, so why not look at them as much as he can? He retreats a bit, opening his mouth like he wants to ask you something but he’s too shy.
“What is it, baby?”
“I was just wondering if you…if you could—would you want to be on top?” His tone is genuinely sweet. “Like what position do you like?”
“Missionary’s my favorite too,” you say. “But I would, hm, I would really like to be on top for a bit.” Switching quickly, you align yourself over his cock and sink down on him so, so, so slowly, letting out a big sigh of relief. “Oh my god, Soobin. Are you fucking kidding me?” You don’t think you’ve ever felt so full before. The feeling stretches all the way to your toes. “I need to hump you like crazy for a bit,” you say with a chuckle. He nods like that’s perfectly fine with me, mommy.
And you do exactly that—bounce on his cock as fast as your body lets you, relieving that built-up tension. Over the last few months, you wanted to jump his bones every time you were in the same room and that feeling never let up, like there was a tension thermometer in your body that was constantly stuck at boiling.
But perhaps it was a bit more painful for him because an occasional rut up into you isn’t enough anymore. He holds your hips to keep you in place, fucking up into you as fast as he can. Head dropping back, he groans, your name leaving his lips.
“Mommy?” His eyebrows furrow, looking utterly pathetic. “Let’s switch back. Please.” Hiking your leg over his hips, you land roughly on your back. Gently grabbing your hands, he pins them above your head, aligns his cock at your entrance, and slides inside you, rolling his hips so deliciously. As he kisses you, he swallows your moans. Trailing down your neck, he whispers, “Please tell me I’m making you feel good, Mommy.”
Your eyes roll back in pleasure and you say, “Fuck, you’re making me feel so good.”
Slowing his thrusts, he asks, “What else would you like me to do?” Smiling up at him, you rub his thighs. Waiting for an answer, he covers your collarbone in kisses, making his way back to your ear. After nibbling gently on your earlobe, he whispers, “Tell me how to make you feel even better.” Oof. Shivers.
“Rub my clit,” you say. He sits up, fumbling with his fingers. “Use your thumb,” you giggle. “Wait.” Reaching for his hand, you let spit pool in your mouth before wrapping your lips around his thumb. Sucking on it, he looks at you like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. Then he follows your instructions, rubbing your clit with his thumb while he fucks you, listening intently to every instruction, every a little to the lefts, up a little bit mores, and he never gets impatient.
Your back arches impossibly high and you say, “I’m close, babe. Don’t stop.” You rub your own nipple, but he moves your hand out of the way, wetting his thumb with his own spit before circling it for you.
Everything has been building to this moment. Staring at him in every lecture, longing for his touch. That kiss in his office was just the start of your addiction. Attending his office hours didn’t help, but you couldn’t stay away. You needed to be closer to him. To feel heat radiating off his body. To smell his spicy cologne. To watch his fingers wrap around his pen and wish they were wrapped around something else.
All of it was for this moment right here. Cumming around his cock for the first time. You can’t wait any longer. There’s a white hot burning in your belly that’s getting more furious by the second. His name leaves your mouth in a yelp before fireworks explode inside you.
Your legs shake around his waist as he fucks you through it, not changing a single thing. Overwhelmed with pleasure, you grab his wrist to stop him from rubbing your nipple to make sure it’s the most perfect orgasm you’ve ever had—not too much and not too little.
And it’s neither. Instead, it’s perfection. You knew it would be. It seems to last forever but somehow not long enough. As soon as you finish, you miss it.
Catching your breath, your vision clears up as you look up at him with a smile. He shyly asks, “How was that?”
You take a deep breath and say, “Oh my god, that was so good.” Rubbing soothing strokes up and down your thighs, you can tell he’s getting impatient. But still—he’d never pressure you in a million years.
Bending to kiss your neck again, he whispers, “Can I cum inside you?” You nod frantically.
“Please.”
“I have condoms if you want.” You think about it for a second. Really. You would love nothing more than to feel him fill you up. But it’s risky. “Mommy…” His hips slowly start moving again, encouraging a decision from you. “What are you thinking?”
“Cum inside me, please. Wanna feel all of you,” you say, rubbing his back. He smiles, pressing his lips to yours in a passionate kiss that sends your head reeling. He sits up and squeezes your thighs over and over, adoring the way your body feels in his hands. Soft and squishy and intoxicating. Licking your own thumb, you pinch and rub one of his nipples, making his mouth drop open. He didn’t even think of having his own nipples played with.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck—” he gasps. You praise him, Cum inside me, baby. You’ve been such a good boy for me. I want you to feel so good for me, okay? And he’s rutting his hips into you roughly, using your body for his own pleasure. You simply can’t get enough. You want him inside you forever and ever. “You’re…” he trails off. “You’re gonna make me cum, Mommy.”
“Go ahead. Cum for me.” Like it’s a command, his hips stutter and his cum fills you up, warm and sweet and heavenly. Swears and other inaudible words you hope are compliments spill out of his mouth. Falling forward, he digs his face into your neck once more, twitching until he comes to a stop, taking deep breaths.
You expect a warm smile to echo his warm cum filling you up but he stays put. In fact, he doesn’t move or say anything for quite some time. So much time passes that his cock has slipped out of you on its own, his cum leaking down the swell of your ass.
You finally break the silence, “Are you okay?” He nods awkwardly. “Look at me.” He shakes his head. “What’s wrong?” He still won’t budge. “Soobin, what’s going on?”
“I’m embarrassed,” he whines.
“Huh? About what?”
“Calling you mommy,” he finally sits up. “I was just caught up in the moment—I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have—”
“Honey,” you giggle, sitting up with him. “I told you I liked it.”
“You weren’t just saying that?”
“I don’t think I would’ve came that hard if I didn’t like it.”
His eyes brighten before adding, “I guess so.” It genuinely was one of the strongest orgasms you’ve ever had. Surely, he has to know that, right? But wait—
“Was it good for you?”
“Oh my god,” he’s finally relaxed a little, peppering your face with kisses. “That was the best orgasm I’ve ever had, I swear.” He stands, walking into his en-suite to get you a towel, damp with warm water. “So…” he starts awkwardly. “Should we, like, report this to the dean?”
“Is that your way of asking me to be exclusive?” He blushes as you brush some of his hair behind his ear. “Because my answer is absolutely.” You press your lips together. “Although, can we hold off for a while? Just until next semester starts?”
“Be in our own little world for a bit?” He smiles, wrapping his arms around your waist. “You’re taking a break until next semester, right? Are you working right now?”
“No,” you shake your head. “I got a bunch of scholarships to pay for school,” you say proudly.
“Why am I not surprised?”
“Because I’m the smartest person you know,” you say cheekily.
“No lectures until next semester, so I’m pretty much free.” He smiles, clearly wanting to say something more, but bites his tongue. “Can I ask you something?” You nod. “This may be moving way too fast, but do you maybe wanna spend the holidays here? With me?”
The next few weeks are a whirlwind. Both of you admit it’s too fast. But neither of you care. The fireplace roars as you decorate his Christmas tree together, wrapped presents, baked cookies, everything you could think of that ooey-gooey couples do.
And of course, nightly sex is a bonus. You simply can’t get enough of each other. And you just about lose it when you walk into the kitchen on Christmas morning. He’s standing at the counter wearing a Santa hat, flannel pajama pants, and a black tank top making your favorite tea.
“Ah, there she is! Good morning,” he says with a smile. You take a plate full of chocolate chip waffles from him. But not before he kisses you. Cupping your cheek, he pulls you into perhaps the sweetest kiss you’ve ever had. You can feel his smile on your lips.
And everything feels absolutely perfect. You think you may be dreaming, but he feels so very real at this moment. And his voice is clear as day, “Merry Christmas.”
⟡ genre: nsfw (mdni), drabble, fluff, roommates to ??, kissing, foreplay, fingering, nipple play
⟡ tw: teasing, orgasm denial
⟡ wc: 1.1k
⟡ net: @onedoornet
⟡ a/n: well well isn't it almost winter? here's a summer fic to tease your longing for a hot day w taesan
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It's an excrusiatingly hot summer day. The couch feels overly warm, leaving a print of sweat on the brown leather when touched. You look at Taesan, who's busy playing mario kart sitting beside you sucking on a lemon popsicle. Both of his hands are busy fidgeting with the joystick, while his ice lolly is resting prettyily between his plush lips.
He gazed over at you through his curtain bangs to see you drooling. He deducted it might be the frozen treat, and not you thirsting over your cute roommate who you have the hots for. "It's in the fridge, there are lots of flavours" he says with a playful tone; his lemon tainted tongue peeking from between the words. You rush over to the fridge to grab the one you like, strawberry rush. You suit yourself on the couch again, legs folded not to draw attention to your scant silk shorts. But something tells you his eyes took a peak. You fixate on the lolly, putting your almost soaked hair in a bun, while it rests between your lips.
A sweatdrop runs down your neck and you can still feel the burning stare. "Enjoying the sight?" You give a teasing stare to taesan and he is flabbergasted. He furrows his eyebrows, "As if" paying attention to the game again. You start licking it with your tongue, brushing back and forth, sucking it occasionally. Taesan takes glances at you from playing the game, how exposed your legs look from thighs down. How the messy hair frames your face and the thin top becomes transparent due to sweat. Your tongue gets tainted with bright pink from the lolly, so does his mind with unknown colors.
And a rush, a subtle rush bubbling from inside. He bites down his treat to supress the forbidden thoughts. You, moderately oblivious to the fact, enjoy sucking yours. Taking in the cold it has to suffer, your throat feels finally at peace. Taesan notices your flushed cheeks, crafted by the heat. You look cute. He bites his tongue facing his own thought. He shakes his head and tries focusing on the game again. It doesn't get any better when you are savouring it furiously, sucking it whole and taking eager bites. Fixing your bangs with the back of your palm and he can't help but gulp down. How it'll feel having his length around your mouth- he bites his bottom lip and focuses on the game again.
The lolly leaks some drops and makes its way on your crop top, right on the crook of your chest, making a mess. Spreading even more when you fix it with your lolly smothered fingertips. Taesan noticing the sight, takes a tissue and presses it. You get startled at the sudden movement but only keep licking your lolly as it drips down more. He starts cleaning it, dabbing it softly and soaking up the fluid.
But his eyes get stuck at your swollen pink lips. You accidentally catch him on the spot and your lips form a smirk. "What?" you ask with a sneer. "Nothing" he says coldly, still cleaning your top. "Want a taste?" you speak directly looking into his boba pearl eyes, almost at the end of his wit. You are pretty sure you implied having a taste of the lolly and not your lips which he is brutally pressing againt his at the moment. His hands slides down to your palm holding the lolly, it drips on his thumbs but who's taking count of that when he's busy exploring the insides of your mouth. His tongue darts inside, taking over yours in a winning fight of control. You close your eyes, shock melting away at sense of his luscious lips.
The room fills with erotic sounds, he takes in the tangy starwberry scent as he captures your lips from one side to another in a hungry pace.
"I want to do so much more to you." He whispers, pulling back from you with a string of saliva, leaving you wanting for more. His cold fingertips sliding under the back of your top and teasing the skin beneath. Your breath hitches at the sound, you start to get nervous.
Taesan was madly enjoying it, like a payback for all the taunts you give him. "What, you don't like the way you're feeling right now?" He questions, his eyes blazing with a glint, you can't quite figure out. "Because I can see how turned on you are." His hand cups your breast, thumb rubbing over the hardened nipple through your shirt. "Your body is already responding to me" You close your eyes in pleasure, only sparing the approval "fuck, taesan.." He pulls you closer, his lips crash down at your once again. He pulls your peak with this thumb and index, rolling it in between. "I want all of you" he murmurs against your ears. His hand slides down to your thigh, hitching it up around his waist.
He moves his hand back up to your breast, squeezing lightly before sliding his hand down between your legs. You lightly moan his name "taesan.. " a plead, more so an invitation to finally ruin whatever was casual and repressed between you two. You rest your hands on his chest when he rubs against your clit firmly through the shorts, applying just the right amount of pressure.
"I can tell you're soaked for me already". "that feels so good.." you let your thoughts out verbally, he increases his pace with a smirk. His other hand teases your nipples, making it portrude outward. His thumb, lulls down your folds in between, to edge you further. You throw your head back, a certain annoyance playing on your eyebrows, for, you want to reach the high he's denying. "Faster" you say with a desperate need and he can't help but scoff. "You want me so bad? Say, please then" he asks removing your top.
".. taesan" you hold his wrist, as he deliberately slows down more. "I said, please"
"Please.."
"Should've said so" he strokes your clit in a haste, engulfing one of your nipple in his mouth. It draws a circular motion, smothering it with his saliva. The panties end up on the floor moments after. He inserts his middle, followed by his ring finger and pushes through. You throw your head back again, he continually moves it around your hole. You grab his hair, interwining in a tangled way with his soft strands, reaching your high. He sees your breath rising, your abdomen going up and down. He thrusts it this time with more urgency, then your back arches, giving you that sweet release. Your mind goes into the oblivion. He massages the area to ease you up, before parting with your folds and your release on top of his index. He gently licks it off, staring at you mischievously, "Tastes like strawberries"
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