summary: jisung who pavlov dog trains you into studying
warnings: SMUT!! jisung is a little mean here... soft dom!jisung, teasing, fingering, oral (fem receiving), hair pulling, edging, overstimulation, spitting, praising, tit sucking, reader is seen as dumb, established relationship, college au, little dacryphilia
wc: 1.9k
jisung with a cap, glasses and white shirt DID something to me
You weren’t born the smartest, in deep contrast to your boyfriend, Jisung, who’s the top of his class.
Dating a genius came with a price, and that is your conscience taking a toll. You were pretty, popular, however a bit ditzy. A tiny bit. A tiny lot. Eventually, as a dutiful boyfriend—Jisung decided to help you. Well, tried to.
Nothing worked, no matter how hard or efficient his method was. A real challenge to actually get you to sit still and study. All your papers come out wrong, sighing whenever he needs to correct them. Yet, he tries. Because he loves you too much. He loves the silly dumb expression you make whenever he points out your mistakes, the slight pout of your lips, the curve of your brows forming a frown. He adores it. But you have your finals soon, and he needs you to pass.
So. He decided to set up his game. His plan was simple.
First, he’ll mask the study sessions as ways to spend time together. Calling you over to his dorm in the guise of a sleepover. Dragging the strap of your bag off your shoulders as you make it inside of his dormitory, urging you to his bedroom. “Hm, baby.” he calls, acknowledging the confused blink you give him. “Brought your laptop?”
You nod, beaming. “To play games? You promised to,” replying with such eagerness, he almost feels bad for lying.
“Yeah, totally.”
It did start as a gaming session.
Which he turned into a game of guessing, creating a whole discourse. Therefore, explaining the situation, in which you were doing the research your professor assigned a week ago, just to be able to prove him wrong after he particularly pissed you off. Completely unaware that you were given such tasks. Noting down the information as he played dumb, refusing to give you the right answer—to the point of brimming tears to your eyes, knowing damn well he wasn’t. That he was playing with you.
Second, he’ll set the atmosphere whenever you show efforts to study. Casting a dim lampshade by your desk, comfortable, easy to focus. Unfortunately, you always have something to say, “Sungie, this is making me sleepy. Are you sure that’s necessary?” you whine, slapping your pen on the wooden surface with a click. Laying your hunched face on your arms in defeat as you yawn.
He pats you on the head, a gentle caress. “That’s because you aren’t paying attention. Do I need to raise the brightness, want to go blind baby?”
You shake your head, heaving upwards. “No.”
He smiles, pecking your lips adoringly.
Here it was.
The third step.
Each time that you get something right, or decide to study on your own. He’ll reward you with a kiss. It starts off as innocent, a smooch here and then. Soft lips finding your cheek, forehead, lips.Which undeniably escalated as time went on, and you started craving more. Salivating for more. Your grades tilted upwards, a small insignificant upgrade. But it was still progressing. A minuscule step is gigantic for an ant. Though, time was ticking, and there were little to no hopes of you achieving that grade. He raises the bar, making the stakes higher. The rewards become more satisfying for your poor–dippy brain to understand. Something that you’d get lots easier, the simplest route being the one of your body.
“Baby focus,” he hushes, fingers deep inside your squelching cunt. You’re shaking, probably begging him to let you cum, you can’t tell. “I’ll ask you again, hm?” curling his digits so sweetly, hitting that vulnerable part of you. You mumble a ‘no’, gripping his wrist but he pays you no mind, resulting in his session. “How does feedback inhibition regulate metabolic pathways? Use an example like threonine deaminase in amino acid synthesis.”
This is torture. He’s torturing you.
It’s the third time he’s asking you this question, and the third time you’re about to get it wrong. Edging you on each incorrect answer. “—Jisung… please.”
His fingers slow, stilling them within the embrace of your snug walls. “That’s not the answer,” he coos, nuzzling his face on your shoulder, eyes meeting your nearly-closed ones. “Come on, I know you’ve got the answer.” Smiling, he takes his ministrations out of your throbbing core, coaxing a whimper of disapproval from your throat, but it quickly fades when he uses the same hand to draw your jaw open. “Is it on the tip of your tongue?” he asks, bringing the coated digit inside your mouth, playing with the muscle of your tongue. “Hint?”
Nodding, you taste yourself on him. Tasting like something you shouldn’t be doing in this context, but the lack of him inside has you sobbing, so close to the edge—only to get snatched away. Again.
“Okay, picture this.” he says. You can’t, his absence is all you can muster. He flicks the surface of your forehead, flickering your lashes open. Giggling lightly. “Think about what happens when there’s too much of the final thing the cell is making. Does the cell keep going forever, or does it have a way to stop it?”
There’s a second of silence, hesitation sinks it. Trying your best, it’s so cute. You’re so cute, he just wants to give you everything you want. To have your already stupid expression fucked out on his cock, tongue, fingers. Anything he can gift you with.
“I don’t know, Jisung.” it comes off as tired, sighing in a pout. "The enzymes just keep working until the cell runs out of energy—?”
He returns your sigh, his proximity fading as he sits back on your bed, earning a soft whine of disapproval from you. From the lack of warmth provided. He picks his notebook, writing in the question with a roll of ink. “Fine, you don’t know. I’ll just go back to my dorm then.”
“Wait—no!” you reach for him but he’s already on the verge of packing. Panic seers, not wanting him gone yet. You ruminate, the hardest you can. The answer is there—barely able to remember it. He stands and you tug on his sleeve, “Jisung wait— the end product, it binds with something,” knuckles tightening on the fabric of his shirt, eyes begging him to stay.
“On what?”
All… allestric… “Allosteric site!”
“And why?”
“To uhm, inhibit it to prevent production—overproduction?” you’re unsure, but his smile coils something in your stomach, growing you hopeful.
“Kiss?” he asks, you shake your head. Grabbing his wrist, pulling his hand back where you need him the most.
“More,” it’s a plea, and he indulges. Pushing you back on the bed as he climbs on top of your figure, palm resting on the flesh of your thighs.
“That brain of yours can really only muster a thought when given attention, hm?” giving you a gentle squeeze when you pout, gaze trailing to where your fingers tighten on his wrist, begging him to give in already. “You want it so bad baby… did biology make you this wet?”
“Don’t be mean,” you swallow in a hitch, chest heaving under him.
Grinning, Jisung brings his lips to the corner of your mouth, a gentle contact. “‘M sorry, so proud of you.” he praises, finally running his knuckles across the hood of your clit, applying little to no pressure. Not enough, but just enough to rip the faintest gasp out of you. “Smart girls deserve big prizes, you think?”
“Yes—yes, please, Sungie.” your whine melts him, ice to the morning sun. Hot mouth leaves open kisses to the side of your jaw, driving low to your neck. Hiking your tank top up, spilling out your tits for him to latch on. He had insisted that you wear no bra today, perhaps you hadn’t caught on to his perverse intentions. He assumes you’re still oblivious, a saint to your eyes, even when he’s being so mean. Lips wrap around the swell of your nipple, an obscene suck, he moans as if he was the one being rewarded for your right answer.
He is.
Glasses tilting over his frame when you nearly knock them off his face in an attempt to push him away—pull him closer. Can’t decide. Can’t think. He presses two fingers on your slit, lubing them properly before moving to your clit, thighs jolt close, but he holds them wide. Laying between your thighs, his erection rubs on the bed, a shiver of dull pleasure coursing through. He wishes he could bury himself in that nasty cunt of yours already, but he has other plans in mind when he pampers your thighs with subtle kisses. Teasing. You sob, and he pities. Licking a stripe off the spilling juices at last, hips jerking forward. The first lap is patient, because he’s trying to be. It doesn’t last long when he catches on your taste, your smell, the sound of your reactions. Both up there and down here. Losing the virtue as soon as it came when he lets out a delirious whimper when you tug on his hair, nails brushing his scalp to escape the inviting sensation.
He spreads your folds apart with his fingers, tongue probing at your clit, encircling it. Heels dig onto the mattress, too sensitive after his teasings. Puffing out a breath of cool air, smile smug when you keen towards it. He inches downwards, nose rubbing on your nub deliciously, sending a wave of pleasure across your nerves. “God, yn. Baby, tastes so good. Tastes like mine.” he’s whining, middle finger breaching you open. Your stomach flex, contracting under the coiling knot returning from his earlier torments. He adds another when he deems necessary, curling them into your sweetest spot. You crumble, drawing embarrassingly close fast. “Hold it in, a little longer.” he demands, his own voice coming off as hitched. The spectacles of his glasses fogging under the searing tension.
“Can’t—” you breathe out, and he adds to the fire. Spitting on your aching cunt with a hum, watching the glob of saliva drool past your lips to the pumps of his fingers. He licks at the liquid, the wet sounds getting louder with every movement of his muscle. Thighs quivering under him, but he doesn’t care. He riles in it, humping the mattress in a hope of satisfying the pain of his hard cock. Parting his fingers, he lets his tongue slide in along with them. The pace of them’s so different. Too different—body confused on how to react with every shiver snapping through. He moans, each noise vibrating at your core. You can’t.
“Jisung—fuck,” cursing, thighs pleading to suffocate him, he loves it. Giving you the chance to block his airflow, to bury himself inside your seeping cunt and perish from suffocation. His choked moan tilts you over the edge, guts wrenching as you come around him. Clenching impossibly onto his adoration, wetting his chin with your overflow. He’s unrelenting, adamant on sucking the liquid out of you. Every single drop. Making it out when your cries turn louder, landing one last kiss onto the hood of your overstimulated clit.
He kisses your lips, sinful tongue dancing with yours, having you taste yourself yet again. Your arms embrace his neck, glasses knocking at your nose when he hunches your face to the side. Gaining better access, only to separate at last with a connecting saliva. He blinks, analysing your dazed expression. The grin that etches on his features brings you dread, anticipating his next sentence when he presses one last peck on your wet lips. “Next question?”
pairings: sleepy!han jisung x fem!reader, established relationship
tags/warnings: nsfw, smut, teasing, begging!jisung and sleepy jisung, jisung is very needy, desperate and whiny, begging, bj, public sex (more or less), riding, nicknames, humour, sleepy voice, turbulences, food
note: thank you guys so so much for the love that my first fanfic received, i was so surprised!! Also to everyone that voted on my poll (thank you!): i went with what got voted for more honestly. Sooo because i liked both ideas a lot i can still make a strangers version if yall want to, i’d just change it a bit, please let me know!!
word count: like a bit over 4k
On a late-night flight, you sit next to your boyfriend Jisung, who’s half-asleep, flustered, and already desperate, making your heart race. Between turbulence, cramped seats, and the thrill of not getting caught, the long flight quickly becomes an intimate game of teasing and tension.
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Walking down the aisle, you and jisung were searching for your seats, silently hoping not to spot any babies along the way, a twelve-hour flight with screaming and crying would be a nightmare. Not to mention that your boyfriend would go mental, he’s already nervous enough.
You even offered to buy him some cheesecake at one of those overpriced cafés and the airport, hoping it would help him calm down but he turned it down. Han Jisung saying no to cheesecake. What the fuck?
When you finally reached your row, you point “here - 14 A, B, C.”
“Oh, thank God, middle of the plane,” he muttered, visibly relaxing as he slid into 14B. “That’s, like, the safest part statistically, right?” You laughed, dropping your bag under 14C and sitting down beside him. “You’ve clearly done your research.”
“I may or may not have watched three documentaries about airplane engineering last night,” he mumbled, fumbling with his seatbelt. You shook your head, smiling. “You’re hopeless.” But seeing jisung so adorably nervous makes your heart skip a beat.
He glanced over, eyes flicking to the small seat label near you - 14C- and a grin started to form, the nervous edge melting into something playful.
“14C, huh?” he said, leaning a little closer with that familiar spark returning to his eyes. “Yeah… makes total sense.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Ji, what are you talking about? It’s a seat.” But you could tell by the look in his eyes that he’s about to say something so cringy.
He tilted his head, eyes twinkling, and gave a little grin with a wink. “It fits perfectly… because you’re the one (1) for (4) me… and a total Cutie.”
You groan, covering your face. “Really ji? That’s your airplane pickup line? You’ve officially lost it”, you say while shaking your head, still you can’t help a smile escaping your lips.
Jisung fidgeted beside you. “Twelve hours in this seat… hope you’re ready for all of me.” Little did you know, that by all of him, he meant all of him.
Luckily seat 14A remained empty, so the both of you had more room for your bags for example. Yeah, your bags.
The flight attendant walked down the aisle, demonstrating seatbelts and safety instructions, catching both of your attention. Jisung’s eyes followed every move, wide and slightly panicked.
A few minutes later, looking over to him you can see him putting on his headphones, you guess he put his favorite atrists on, their songs always help him relax. A few minutes later the plane took off and the 12 hours flight began…
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At some point during the flight you must have fallen asleep. Glancing at your phone the screen reads 1:00 am. You groan, stiff from sitting too long, these plane seats are really uncomfortable. Looking to your right you can see jisung fast asleep. Mouth slightly open, cheeks puffy, head slightly tilted in your direction. It takes everything in you not to just squeeze his whole face and place a thousand kisses on it.
Needing to stretch (and, you admit, a quick bathroom break), you carefully stand up, trying not to wake him. Just as you step into the aisle, turbulence hits. You lose your balance for a moment - and before you can react, you stumble right onto him.
Your body lands awkwardly across his thighs, one hand instinctively shooting out to steady yourself and presses against the front of his pants, right over the bulge of his cock, feeling the sudden warmth and firness beneath the fabric as it twitches under your palm.
He shifts under you, still half-asleep, eyes barely open and clouded with confusion. “U-uh wha- what? What are you uh doing?” he mumbles, voice thick and sleepy. God his sleepy voice. That hardness in his pants swells noticeably against your hand, pulsing with a lazy throb as if even in his fogged state. A soft pink spreads across his cheeks, eyes unfocused and blinking slowly, trying to make sense of the warmth of your body draped over him.
He shallows thickly “I-” he mumbles , voice trailing off into a quiet sigh. He stays there, still zoned out and flustered, not moving away, just letting you be pressed against him for a moment. “y/n-” he tries again but you cut him off, not looking into his eyes out of embarrassment “i’m sorry I- I- the turbulences they- and then I slipped and-” but before you can say even more his hips twitching faintly upward, pressing his thickening length more firmly into your grip while he remains lost in that sleepy, flustered daze, too out of it off to pull away or push you off. You froze, not knowing what to say or do.
The airplane's hum and the lingering turbulence fade into the background, leaving only the warmth of your body against his and the insistent press of his cock straining harder in your palm. He looks utterly gone, chest rising and falling in slow, even breaths, but then a low rumble escapes his lips, barely audible over the engines.
“Ugh- yes, y/n..” he mutters, voice a whisper, thick with drowsiness. His hips shift lazily, grinding his thickening shaft into your hand without any real intent, just instinctive need bubbling up from his subconscious. He let’s out a soft needy “mmmm” as your fingers squeeze gently around the bulge, feeling it twitch and pulse under the fabric.
The sight of him like this makes you drool, bed hair, mouth slightly open, pinkish cheeks. You guess he doesn’t take much liking to airplane seats either, because the side of his tummy is exposed (from shifting around you guess) and you can see his tattoo. You gulp, tattoos are your weakness. And his especially, the way they linger around his toned abs, you’re definitely gonna convince him to get even more.
God, he doesn’t know what those tattoos do to you, you could get yourself off just by looking at them. Thinking about the noises he made while getting them. Jisung whines easily, it doesn’t matter if it’s in pain or pleasure. Sometimes you resist on kissing him during sex, so you could hear his noises. If only he knew that they drive you insane.
He doesn't wake, doesn't completely open his eyes, but his body responds - thighs parting slightly, inviting more contact. Another breathless mutter slips out "feels sooo good mmm don't stop" his cheeks flush deeper, a rosy heat spreading down his neck, and his free hand twitches at his side, fingers curling.
And to your surprise you wanted this. You wanted to see how far you can push, how bold he can remain knowing you’re stuck for another 6 hours on this plane. You press your thighs together. Unsure of what to do.
Before anything else can happen, you hear footsteps coming from down the aile towards you, you pushing your hands off, looking up seeing a flight attended coming your way. Sliding out of the row, cheeks burning, pretending as if nothing happened, trying to act casual, while your panties are dripping wet and you don’t know how to calm down again. “This is going to be a long flight” you mumble under your breathe, as you closed the WC door.
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2.30 am. You couldn’t sleep. You wrapped a blanket around yourself, luckily you took one with you, who knew airplanes could get so chilly at night. Scrolling through instagram, thinking it will eventually make you tired and distract you from the heat building between your legs.
You took your panties off when you were in the bathroom, they were so slick and wet there was no use in wearing them anymore. You stuffed them into the pocket of your sweatpants and left them there.
Suddenly you hear a soft sleepy murmur from jisung “hnn..mmm”, his hand lazily drifts to rub his face as he shifts, still half-asleep.
“Can’t sleep baby?”, he asks, his eyes barely open, and he shifts slightly in the seat.
“Yeah.. can’t sleep” you admit, cheeks heating.
“Mhmm.. me too, i had this dream and it felt so realistic. You were there and then you mhmm and i didn’t want you to stop but you did and now i can’t think straight and going back to sleep is impossible i’m so hard can you touch me?” he rambles in one go. Cheeks slightly pink, voice deep, sleepy and desperate.
The confession hangs in the air, raw and unfiltered, his body betraying him completely - chest rising and falling quicker now, a faint sheen of sweat on his brow.
You wanted to be the smarter one here. You’re in an airplane anyone could see if they woke up or a flight attendant came across. But your body’s betraying you. You’re so wet it’s unbearable.
“Ji-” but before you can say more he leans closer, head on your shoulder, his breath tickling your neck, you shiver slightly and then he whispers, raw and sleepy.
“Please baby, it won’t take long i promise. I’m already so hard i could cum any moment…please just help me out a bit. I won’t make any noises, no one’s gonna know i swear please just- just touch me, i need you.”
You shallow. You don’t know what to do. Just when you were about to tell him that this isn’t a good idea, you turn to look at him and see him staring at you with those lustful sleepy boba eyes. How could you ever say no to them?
“Fine, but be quick okay, i really don’t want us to get caught” you mutter slightly embarrassed.
“Yes yes baby don’t worry i’ll be so quick you won’t even remember that this happened thank you thank you thank you”he whispers and gives you a quick kiss on your cheek.
Your fingers curl around the outline of his cock through his sweatpants , squeezing gently as his rambling words fade into a needy whimper. Jisung's eyes flutter half-shut, his body slumping back into the seat, too sleepy “p-please” he whispers voice whiny and thick, lips parting on a shaky breath.
You glance around - the seats are dim, most passengers lost in sleep - and put the thin blanket over both your laps, creating a shield. Your hand slips under the fabric,sliding his waistband down a little, he helps clumsily, lifting his hips just enough for you to tug it down enough to free his cock from his boxers.
It springs out, hot and heavy in your palm, the shaft veined and throbbing, pre-cum already beading at the flushed tip. Jisung's breath hitches, a quiet whine slipping out as you wrap your fingers around him, stroking from base to head in slow, firm pulls.
“Mmmph... y-yes, like that” he mumbles, head against the headrest, his free hand gripping the armrest to keep from thrusting too obviously. The blanket slightly over his lap, hiding the way your fist glides up and down his length, slicking him with his own leaking cum. His cock pulses in your grip, growing even harder, the sleepy haze making his reactions lazy but desperate “don’t t-tease”, thighs trembling.
He tries to stay quiet, but soft, whiny gasps escape him with each stroke, his face twisting in flushed frustration as he fights the urge to moan aloud. The plane tilts slightly, making a soft creak, but Jisung’s attention is elsewhere, caught up in the heat.
After a few minutes of your steady pumping, his hand finds your wrist under the blanket, squeezing weakly. “N-not enough p-please, I need- I need your mouth baby” he begs in a sleepy, whiny plea, eyes glassy and pleading as he looks at you. His cock twitches in your hand, begging for more, and you feel the shift in him - the sleepiness fueling his boldness, making him push for what he craves.
Heart pounding, you nod, sliding off his lap with careful movements, the space between seats so cramped your knees press against the seat in front.
You duck under the blanket, the fabric pooling over Jisung's spread thighs like he's just adjusting for comfort. It's tight down here - your shoulders brush his legs, the air warm and musky with his scent- but you manage, knees digging into the carpeted floor as you position yourself between his knees. His cock stands rigid before you, tip glistening, and you lean in, parting your lips to take him inside.
Jisung's hand flies to his mouth, muffling a whiny groan as your tongue swirls around the head, tasting the salty pre-cum before you sink down further, lips stretching around him. You suck steadily, hollowing your cheeks, your head bobbing in the confined space while one hand strokes what you can't fit.
He tastes thick and urgent, his shaft pulsing against your tongue with every wet slide. Above the blanke, he looks completely messy - hair all over the place, cheeks flushed, legs spread out, but innocent enough, like he's just resting uncomfortably.
“Oh God... s-so good” he whimpers softly, voice barely audible, his hips twitching upward to fuck shallowly into your mouth. Muffled whines escape him, his free hand tangling in the blanket's edge to anchor himself. You're careful, keeping the rhythm discreet, saliva coating him as you take him deeper.
Then, footsteps approach down the aisle, and a soft voice cuts through. “Sir? Are you alright? You look a bit flushed - do you need anything? Water, perhaps?” the flight attendant leans in, her shadow falling over Jisung's seat.
Jisung freezes, his cock buried halfway in your mouth, throbbing wildly as panic flashes in his eyes. “I-I'm f-fine” he stammers, voice strained and whiny despite his effort to sound normal. He clears his throat, forcing a weak smile. “Just... just couldn't sleep. Turbulence earlier, you know?”
Before she can respond, the plane jolts hard - turbulence hitting without warning. Your body shifts forward involuntarily, driving Jisung's cock deep into your throat in one unexpected thrust. He chokes on a gasp, eyes widening as the tight heat overwhelms him fully, your gag reflex kicking in but holding as you swallow around him. “Ahh-” the sound comes out as a strangled cough, his hand clamping over his mouth again.
The attendant pauses, concern showing on her face. “Are you sure? That sounded rough. Let me get you some te-”
“N-no, really, I'm good” jisung manages, voice pitching higher, whiny edges weakening his composure as you pull back slightly, only to suck him deeper on the rebound from the shake. His cock leaks steadily now, pulsing against your tongue, and he bites his knuckle to stifle the moan building in his chest. Sweat beads on his forehead, his sleepy desire and the fear of being caught clash inside him, making every word feel like a struggle “th-thanks, though. Jus-Just.. need to rest”.
She nods hesitantly, lingering a second longer before moving on, her footsteps fading. Jisung exhales shakily, his hand dropping to press the blanket down, hips jerking once as the adrenaline spikes his need. “F-fuck... don't stop please baby, you’re unreal” he whispers desperately, voice a needy whine.
Your mouth works him relentlessly under the blanket, tongue pressing flat against the underside of his cock as you bob faster, the tight space forcing you to angle your head just right. Jisung's thighs tense around you, his whiny breaths escaping him. “C-close... oh God, ‘m gon- gonna-” he whimpers softly, voice speepy, hips stuttering upward in shallow thrusts that push him deeper into the wet heat of your throat.
The first burst hits without warning, thick ropes of cum flooding your mouth as his shaft pulses hard. “Aaah- ‘mmm gonna uhhh babyyy” you swallow greedily around him, the salty bitterness coating your tongue while you milk every drop with firm sucks, your lips sealed tight to catch it all. Jisung's body shudders, a choked whine escaping as he grips the seat edge, knuckles white, his cock twitching until he's completely done, softening slightly in the aftermath. You pull back slowly, licking him clean with a final swirl, the blanket shifting just enough to let you resurface, face flushed and lips swollen.
He slumps deeper into the seat, eyes heavy lidded and dazed, but that needy spark lingers in his gaze as it drops to your lap. The blanket's still draped over you both, and in the dim cabin light, he notices the way your thighs press together, the subtle dampness seeping through your sweatpants. “Y-you're... wet” he murmurs, voice whiny and thick. "I can see it - you're soaked. Let me... please?" Before you can respond, his hand slips inside the waistband, bold and insistent.
His fingers brush against your bare pussy, and he freezes for a split second, eyes widening. “No panties? Fuck, you're killing me” he breathes, his voice a desperate rasp, head falling back. The realization hits him hard - your slick folds exposed, dripping from the thrill of sucking him off right there in public. His cock twitches in his pants again, already half-hard despite just cumming.
“Baby you’re sitting here next to me bare underneath, sucking me off while soaking your sweatpants?” he continues “baby i can feel it, how wet you are… let me... wanna make you feel good too. P-Please?” he begs.
Jisung's fingers dive in without hesitation, parting your wet lips and sliding along your clit. He circles it slowly at first, then presses harder, his touch needy and uncoordinated from sleep and lust. “Gonna make you feel good too mmmm” he murmurs, leaning close so his breath fans your ear. “You deserve it after that. So wet for me... please, let me finger this pretty pussy y/n”
You bite your lip to stifle a gasp as he pushes two fingers inside you, curling them just right to hit that spot that makes your thighs clench. “Ji…” you murmur breathless. The plane's hum masks the soft, wet sounds of him thrusting in and out, but every whimper that escapes his lips feels dangerously loud. He's desperate, hips shifting subtly as he works you, his free hand gripping the armrest.
“Jisung, shh” you whisper, glancing around at the dozing seats. But he doesn't stop - his fingers pump faster, thumb rubbing your clit in frantic circles. His whines grow louder, sleepy pleas tumbling out. “Feels so good... you're clenching around me. Ne-need to be inside you. Please baby just the tip. It'll feel amazing baby, I promise. Won't move much, just... f-fuck, I need your pussy on my cock please y/n” he says in a desperate voice.
His begging turns into full-on whimpers, high and needy, as he begs to fuck you right there in his seat. 14B. “Quietly, yeah? No one will know. Just slide down a little and let me push in. Please baby, i’m so hard again. It'll be quick, make you cum so hard, you deserve it please baby” his fingers twist deeper inside you, and you feel your walls flutter around him.
The convincing works, his sleepy begging too endearing to deny. Heart racing, you nod, glancing around the dark cabin - no one's stirring at this hour.
“Just the tip" you murmur, echoing his earlier beg, but taking control. “Yes baby just the tip” he repeats voice deeper than usual. You tug his pants down, freeing his hardening cock, still slick from your mouth. It's thick, the head flushed and leaking.
Shifting in the cramped seats, you straddle him carefully, the blanket tenting over your joined bodies. Your sweatpants are shoved down enough to expose your bare pussy. Looking at jisung’s eyes still sleepy but he’s eyeing you up and down, shallowing, lust growing in them. You hover above him, guiding the tip of his cock to your entrance, rubbing it along your slit to tease. “D-don’t” he whispers. Slowly, you lower yourself “y-yeah, like that” he breathes, voice a needy whine, hands on your hips guiding you down just enough to let the head breach you, stretching your entrance with a delicious burn.
You sink onto just the tip, rocking shallowly, the blanket hiding the intimate connection as his thickness teases your walls. Jisung bites his lip, stifling a groan, his sleepy eyes rolling back at the tight grip of your pussy clenching around him. “F-fuck, so warm... k-keep going, feels amazing baby” he whispers. “Just like this yeahhh baby, ride the tip” his voice is needy, eyes rolling back.
Then, without warning, the plane jolts violently - turbulence hitting like a sudden storm. The cabin shakes, seatbelt signs flickering on as the aircraft dips and bucks. In the chaos, your balance falters, and you drop fully onto him, his entire cock slamming deep into your pussy in one unintended thrust. The sudden fullness rips a gasp from your throat, your walls clenching around his full length.
Jisung's eyes fly open wide, a loud, unrestrained moan bursting from his lips “Ah, f-fuck! S-so deep” his voice carrying too far in the quiet cabin. The turbulence tosses you both, but his hips buck up instinctively, burying himself even harder as the plane levels out. Panic surges through you, a few heads nearby stir, murmuring about the bump.
Jisung's face twists in overwhelmed pleasure, sleepy whines mixing with the plane's groans as he fights to stay silent, hips bucking up instinctively to chase the friction.
“Jisung!” you hiss, clamping a hand over his mouth, but he's lost in it now, whines turning into desperate, throaty cries muffled against your palm. “Too much... y-you're taking all of me, y/n. Can’t-t fuck, gonna c-cum already.” his cock pulses inside you, thick.
Heart pounding, you snatch the damp panties from your pocket - the ones you'd removed earlier, soaked with your juices - and put them into his open mouth mid-whimper.
Jisung's eyes go wide, muffled moans vibrating against the fabric as he sucks on them instinctively. The taste of you on the cloth only makes him hornier, his dick slamming into your pussy harder now, desperate to please. You grind down on him, the confined space making every movement intense.
His hands dig into your ass, pulling you down as he thrusts up, the turbulence forgotten in the haze of lust. You bounce faster, clit grinding against his base. Jisung's body trembles beneath you, his gagged whimpers growing frantic, cock swelling as he nears the edge. You rub your clit furiously, the pressure building until your orgasm crashes over you - walls spasming around him, milking his length as you bite back your own cry.
He follows seconds later, hips jerking wildly as he floods your pussy with hot cum, thick spurts coating your insides. The panties soak up his excess drool and muffled sounds, his body going slack as you both pant through the aftershocks. Slowly, you lift off, his spent cock slipping free with a wet pop, cum trickling down your thigh. You pull the panties from his mouth, damp and stretched, and he licks his lips, dazed and sated.
“Fuck... that was insane” he whispers, voice wrecked, putting himself together again and head on your shoulder. Still sleepy.
He grinned, hair a total mess, you decide to tease him a bit “so… still nervous about flying?” you ask with a shy smile
He laughs softly “guess turbulences aren’t so bad after all”
“Next time, we’re using the bathroom,” you mumble, adjusting in your seat with a groan. “These seats are way too small.”
His lips curve into a sleepy grin. “Next time?” he teases, voice low and rough with exhaustion.
Your face heats instantly. “Shut up,” you mutter, swatting his arm before curling back against him.
He chuckles quietly, eyes already fluttering shut. “Wake me up if they serve snacks, seat 14B” he whispers, a small smile tugging at his lips.
“It’s not even four am why would they serve snacks now sungie?” you mumble, glancing at him - but he’s already drifted off, mouth slightly open, breathing soft and steady. You sigh, smiling to yourself before finally letting your eyes close too.
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Pairing: Nerd!Jisung x afab!reader
Genre: smut no minors pls! (Includes unprotec sex, fingering, oral, squirting, nipple play, possessive themes)🔞
Summary: What starts as an academic crush on your painfully observant professor becomes significantly harder when you find his lewd diary.
Wc: 13k
Enjoy reading <33 If you want any specific ideas tell me and I will see what I can do!
A/N: OML this took so long?? but yes we love nerdy & possessive hanji, If i say i hate nerd Han burn me bc that HOE is not me (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ
☆...━━━━━·:*☆...━━━━━·:*☆...
✧( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:̲̅]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ )✧
"You dropped this."
The voice came from behind you, warm, slightly amused, just as you were shoving your notebook into your bag. You turned to find Professor Han holding out a stray pen between his fingers.
"Oh, thank you, Mr. Han." You bowed your head slightly, catching the faint scent of his cologne, clean and woody as he leaned forward to hand you the pen.
When you straightened up, his mouth was quirked at the corner. His fingers lingered for half a second longer than necessary before he withdrew them, tucking his hands into the pockets of his slightly rumpled blazer.
"You’re always in such a hurry after class," he remarked, tilting his head toward the empty hallway behind him. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting sharp shadows under his cheekbones. "Do I bore you that much?"
"Oh no, sir," you said, your smile flashing quick and bright despite the flutter in your chest. "Just on my way to the café."
Professor Han hummed, low and considering, his gaze lingering on you a second too long. "The one by the library?" he asked, nodding toward the east wing. "Their espresso machine sounds like a dying animal." He laughed.
"Actually," you said, shifting your bag higher on your shoulder, "I was thinking of trying the one across the road. I heard they do a nicer coffee." The words tumbled out before you could second-guess them, and you caught yourself biting the inside of your cheek. Professor Han blinked, his smirk softening into something more genuine almost pleased.
"Is that an invitation?" he asked, voice dipping into that teasing tone you'd come to recognize during after office hours, when he'd lean back in his chair and dissect your arguments with a precision that left you equal parts frustrated and electrified. You shrugged, trying for nonchalance, but your pulse betrayed you, thrumming loud enough that you wondered if he could hear it.
Professor Han chuckled, the sound warm and low, as he stepped back to gesture toward the exit. "Lead the way," he said, and just like that, you were walking side by side through the university corridors. His stride was relaxed, hand holding his bag, whilst the other stayed in his pocket.
Outside, the afternoon sun was sharp, casting long shadows across the grass. You squinted against the light, adjusting your bag strap. “Professor Han—“ you said as he shifted slightly to block the sun from your eyes with his shoulder.
"It’s okay," he said, hands still tucked into his pockets as he nudged a stray pebble with the toe of his shoe. "Call me Jisung." The way he said it, like he’d been waiting for the right moment made your breath catch. He glanced up then, sunlight catching the gold flecks in his eyes, and smiled. Not the polished, professional one he wore during lectures, but something looser, warmer. The kind of smile that made you forget, just for a second, that he was your professor at all.
You swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of the way your fingers fidgeted with the strap of your bag.
The café across the road was small, the kind of place with mismatched chairs and handwritten chalkboard menus. The bell above the door jingled as you stepped inside, and the rich, bitter scent of freshly ground coffee wrapped around you like a familiar embrace. Jisung hovered just behind you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off him.
"You weren’t kidding about the coffee," he murmured, nodding toward the gleaming espresso machine behind the counter. It was sleek and modern, a far cry from the rattling beast in the library café. His shoulder brushed yours as he leaned in slightly to inspect the menu, and you fought the urge to stiffen, forcing yourself to breathe normally despite the sudden tightness in your chest.
The barista greeted you both with a tired smile, her fingers tapping against the register. You hesitated for a second, acutely aware of Jisung hovering just behind you close enough that you could feel the faint shift of fabric when he adjusted his stance.
"Matcha latte, please," you said. The barista nodded, her fingers flying across the screen before she glanced expectantly at Jisung.
"Black coffee," he said, then paused, considering the pastry case. "And—" He pointed at a croissant dusted with powdered sugar. "That. For her."
"Oh no, it’s okay sir—Jisung," you corrected yourself, the name foreign on your tongue.
The croissant sat between you on the small café table. You poked at the edge of the plate, “You didn’t have to—"
"I wanted to," he interrupted, leaning back in his chair. "Consider it an apology."
"Well, thank you," you said, smiling as you carefully split the croissant in half. You nudged the larger piece toward him. "Here—consider it a peace offering for all the times I argued with you in class."
Jisung laughed, his fingers brushing yours as he accepted the pastry. The contact lingered, just a fraction too long before he pulled back, leaving your skin tingling. "You mean all the times you were right?" he teased, taking a bite.
His eyes never left yours. The café hummed around you, the hiss of steam, the murmur of other customers but it all faded into background noise. You took a sip of your matcha latte to steady yourself.
"You know," Jisung said, setting his cup down with deliberate care, "I’ve been meaning to ask you something." He traced the rim of his mug with his thumb, and you found yourself tracking the movement, the way his fingers curled just slightly. "Why did you pick my class?"
Jisung’s question hung between you, casual yet weighted like he’d been waiting to ask it all semester. "Well," you started, smoothing your thumb over the damp edge of your cup, "I always excelled at English literature and wanted to continue it." The answer was textbook, rehearsed, the kind you’d given advisors and relatives. But under Jisung’s gaze sharp and amused, as if he could see right through it, the words felt flimsy.
Jisung took a slow sip of his black coffee, his eyes never leaving yours. "That’s what your transcript says," he acknowledged, setting his cup down with a quiet clink. "But transcripts don’t explain why you argued with me for fifteen minutes about postmodernism in the middle of a lecture on Romantic poetry." His mouth quirked, and you caught the glint of challenge in his expression. "Or why you’re the only one who stays after class to debate the footnotes."
"Yeah... I write a lot in my spare time." The admission slipped out like a secret, too quiet for the café’s clatter. You watched his eyebrows lift, just a fraction and hurried to clarify. "Not just essays. Fiction.”
Jisung leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the table, fingers loosely clasped. "Fiction," he repeated under his breath. "What kind?"
You shrugged, suddenly self-conscious under his attention. "Short stories, mostly. Some poetry." You hesitated, then added, "A novel, once. Half-finished."
Jisung’s eyes lit up, not the polite, professorial interest he gave during office hours, but something sharper, more genuine. He straightened in his chair, the table creaking under his sudden movement. "You’re kidding," he said, voice dropping into something almost conspiratorial. "I’ve been working on one for years. Never got past chapter twelve."
The admission caught you off guard. Professor Han Jisung writing fiction? The man who dissected your essays with surgical precision and graded your papers in red ink so meticulous it looked typeset? You blinked, stirring your matcha absently.
"That’s unexpected," you said, leaning your chin onto your hand, smiling as you watched him across the table. "I thought you’d be more of a non-fiction kinda guy." The sunlight caught the edge of his cheekbone, highlighting the faintest dusting of pink as he huffed a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck like you’d caught him in something embarrassing.
Jisung tilted his head, the corner of his mouth tugging up. "What, because I spend my days grading dry academic essays?" he grinned as you snorted into your latte. "Turns out even stuffy professors need an outlet.“
You giggle. “I’d love to read your work sometime." The words slipped out before you could second guess them, half-teasing, half-sincere. Jisung's fingers froze around his coffee cup, his smirk faltering for a fraction of a second, long enough for you to notice the way his throat worked when he swallowed.
"Careful," he murmured. "That almost sounded like you’re asking for extracurricular reading." His voice dipped low, threading through the café’s ambient noise. You watched, mesmerized.
"Would you like to come by my place?" Jisung asked suddenly, his fingers drumming against the side of his coffee cup before stilling. The question hung between you casual, but weighted with something unspoken. "I've been working on some stuff that I think you'd like."
Across the table, Jisung's expression remained carefully neutral, but his knuckles were pale where they gripped his cup.
"Sure," you replied, smiling as you both finished the last of your drinks standing up from the café table.
You pretended not to notice how Jisung's fingers brushed the small of your back as he held the door open.
Outside, the afternoon had softened into golden hour.
"You okay with taking the train to mine?" Jisung asked, smiling as he brushed a stray hair back. The question was casual, but there was something in the way his fingers flexed at his sides, like he was physically restraining himself from reaching out.
You hesitated, watching a group of undergraduates spill past you both laughing and chatting. The station was just two blocks down, the familiar rumble of the approaching train already vibrating underfoot. "Won't people—" you started, then bit your tongue. Jisung tilted his head, waiting. Won't people talk? Won't they recognize us? The unspoken questions hung between you like static.
"I mean, I know you’re a young teacher, but still—" you blurted out, then immediately regretted it when Jisung’s footsteps faltered mid-stride. He turned toward you, eyebrows lifting in silent question. The train doors hissed open behind him, and a rush of commuters surged past, forcing you both to step closer together on the platform.
Jisung leaned in slightly, his shoulder brushing yours as he ducked his head to hear you over the station’s chimes. "But still... what?" he prompted, voice low. His breath ghosted warm against your ear, sending an involuntary shiver down your spine. You swallowed hard, gripping the strap of your bag like a lifeline. You hopped on the train as Jisung followed behind.
"But still... what?" Jisung repeated, his voice dropping to a murmur as the train doors hissed shut behind you both. The carriage was half-empty, the late afternoon crowd thinning out. You hesitated, fingers tightening around the overhead rail as the train lurched forward.
"Isn’t this—" You bit your lip, glancing around at the scattered commuters. A student in the far corner was scrolling through their phone, oblivious. An elderly man dozed against the window. "I don’t know... this isn’t intruding, is it?" The words came out softer than you intended, almost lost in the rumble of the tracks beneath you.
Jisung’s expression softened, his fingers twitching like he wanted to reach out but thought better of it. The train swayed, pressing your shoulder against his.
"Intruding?" he repeated, voice barely above the rattle of the carriage. His mouth curved into a smile. "You’re the one who invited me for coffee, remember?"
"Yeah, but—" You faltered, watching the city blur past the window. "Coffee’s one thing. Your place is..." You trailed off, heat creeping up your neck. Jisung exhaled a quiet laugh, his elbow nudging yours.
You got off at the next station as the train sped away. The next train hissed into view seconds later.
"Come on—before we miss this train," Jisung grinned, his fingers suddenly closing around yours as he tugged you forward. His palm was warm and slightly rough against your skin. The train doors chimed in warning, the sound barely audible over your own heartbeat.
You stumbled into him, your free hand flying up to brace against his chest as the momentum carried you both deeper into the carriage. His blazer was soft, the fabric warm from his body heat. Jisung steadied you with a laugh, his other hand coming up to hover near your elbow. "Careful," he murmured, though he didn't let go of your hand. His thumb brushed absently over your pulse point, as if he could feel the way your heartbeat hurried beneath your skin.
The train was one of those beautifully refurbished vintage models, the kind with wide windows that slid open and polished wooden benches that creaked under your weight. You settled onto the seat beside Jisung, close enough that your thighs brushed whenever the carriage swayed. The late afternoon sun streamed through the glass, painting everything in gold, and a light breeze slipped through the open window, carrying with it the distant scent of the city’s bakeries and the faintest hint of Jisung’s cologne.
Jisung stretched his arm along the back of the seat, his fingers drumming an absent rhythm against the wood. "These trains always remind me of being a kid," he mused, tilting his head toward the passing skyline. The wind tousled his hair, softening the sharp lines of his profile. "My dad used to take me on the old line every Sunday. Said it was the best way to see the city without any distractions."
You nodded, leaning into the sway of the train. "I used to ride this line all the time when I lived on the other side of the city." The admission slipped out easily, loosened by the golden-hour glow and the way Jisung's fingers still brushed yours where they rested on the seat between you. "Back when I was applying to the university, actually. I'd take the early train just to sit in the library courtyard and pretend I already went here."
Jisung chuckled, his thumb tracing a slow arc over your knuckles. The motion was absent, like he wasn't even aware he was doing it but it sent a current of warmth up your arm anyway. "Smuggling yourself onto campus," he mused, tilting his head to catch your eye. "Should I be concerned about a pattern of academic trespassing?"
You laughed as Jisung pushed up his glasses, smirking. The lenses caught the afternoon sun, momentarily obscuring his eyes. "Academic trespassing?" you echoed, nudging his knee with yours as the train swayed around a bend. "I prefer to think of it as... early enrollment."
Jisung's smirk deepened, his fingers tapping a slow rhythm against the seat back behind you. "Early enrollment," he repeated. His thumb brushed the nape of your neck, barely there, just the faintest graze, before he withdrew his hand to adjust his glasses again. The frames left a faint indentation on the bridge of his nose, and you had to curl your fingers into your palms to stop yourself from reaching out to smooth it away.
You couldn’t help the way your little crush on Professor Han deepened with every passing moment. It wasn’t just the way his fingers lingered on you, or how his thigh pressed against yours whenever the carriage swayed. It was the way he tilted his head when listening, like your words were worth dissecting. The way sunlight caught in his lashes when he laughed, turning them gold. The way he said stupid shit with that teasing smile, as if he’d been waiting all semester to find someone who matched his wit.
The train slowed as it approached his stop, brakes groaning against the tracks. Jisung stood, offering his hand, not to help you up, but just because. You didn’t let go immediately, and neither did he, his fingers tightening just enough to make your pulse skip. "Careful," he murmured as you stepped onto the platform, though the train had long since stilled. His thumb brushed your knuckles once before he released you, leaving your skin tingling.
"Thank you," you replied with a smile, still distracted by the way the evening sunlight caught in Jisung's face. It wasn't until you both stepped clear of the platform that you realized your fingers were still tangled together, his thumb resting lightly against your pulse point. Neither of you had let go.
His fingers twitched slightly against yours, not retreating, just adjusting as if this casual intimacy was something he'd been thinking about longer than the duration of a train ride. The silence stretched between you, filled only by the distant echo of departing trains and the shuffle of commuters. Then, with deliberate casualness, he laced his fingers more securely through yours and tugged you gently toward the exit.
"My place isn’t far from the station" Jisung murmured, pulling his keys from his pocket as you both rounded the corner onto a quiet residential street. The metal jingled faintly in his palm, as he tilted his chin toward a brick fronted walkway with ivy crawling up one side. The building looked older than the surrounding apartments, its worn iron railings slightly crooked with age, but there was something charming about it.
His fingers tightened briefly around yours as you climbed the steps, his thumb brushing your knuckle when he paused to unlock the door. The lock clicked open as Jisung shouldered the door open with a quiet, "After you." The hallway beyond was dimly lit, the hardwood floors creaking underfoot as you stepped inside, the scent of old books and faint whiskey wrapping around you like a second embrace.
The first thing that struck you was how much light there was. Floor to ceiling windows lined one entire wall of Jisung's apartment, bathing the space in golden afternoon glow. Bookshelves sturdy and modern, built into the walls stretched from floor to ceiling, packed tight with volumes in neat rows. But unlike the haphazard stacks in his office, these were organized with almost obsessive precision, arranged by genre and then alphabetically within each section. You could spot the occasional gap where a book had been pulled and not yet returned, little absences in the otherwise perfect order.
"I know," Jisung said, catching your gaze as he toed off his shoes by the door. He smirked, rubbing the back of his neck where his hair curled slightly at the nape. "It's a sickness." His feet made no sound as he crossed the hardwood floors, unscuffed as if freshly polished, to flick on a minimalist lamp. The warm light pooled across the low coffee table, illuminating hundreds of well-worn paperbacks stacked messily.
Jisung nudged a stray hardcover back into alignment with his foot as he passed the shelf, the motion so automatic you wondered how many times he'd done it without thinking. "Don't mind the mess," he deadpanned, gesturing to the shit ton of books and notes left everywhere. His smirk softened when you laughed, fingers trailing along a shelf as you examined titles. Your fingertip bumped a slightly crooked volume Nabokov’s Pale Fire and Jisung’s hand twitched at his side like he was physically restraining himself.
"Your place is lovely, Jisung," you said, fingertips grazing the spine of a well-loved copy of The Great Gatsby. The leather binding was soft under your touch, the gold lettering slightly faded from handling. Behind you, Jisung exhaled a quiet laugh not quite self-conscious, but something close.
"It’s a little obsessive," he admitted, nudging a stray paperback back into alignment on the coffee table. The motion was absent, automatic, like he couldn’t help himself.
"My brother says it looks like a museum. 'Who alphabetizes their spices, Jisung?'" He mimicked a high-pitched voice, rolling his eyes, but you caught the way his fingers lingered on the shelf as he smiled.
You giggle as you look around, fingertips grazing the spine of a well-worn poetry collection. "Obsessive? Maybe. But it’s kind of..." You trail off, searching for the right word as sunlight pools across the hardwood between you. "Endearing." The admission slips out before you can second-guess it, and Jisung’s fingers pause mid-adjustment on a book.
You perched on the edge of Jisung's sofa, too stiff, too aware of the way the cushions barely dented under your weight as he moved toward the kitchen. His blazer was draped over the armchair now, sleeves rolled to reveal forearms his tendons shifting as he reached for glasses in the overhead cabinet. The ice clinked sharply when he dropped cubes into them, the sound startling in the quiet apartment.
He glanced over his shoulder, catching your startled expression, and smirked. "Nervous?" he asked, tilting his head toward the untouched sofa cushions behind you. "You look like you're sitting on a museum piece." His fingers curled around the refrigerator handle, the tendons in his forearm flexing as he pulled the door open. "Would you like something to drink?"
You swallowed, fingers fidgeting. "Water’s fine," you said. Jisung’s smirk deepened as he pulled a pitcher from the fridge and poured with care.
"Thank you, Jisung," you murmured as he handed you the glass, your fingers brushing against his just long enough to feel the warmth lingering beneath his skin. The water was crisp and cold, condensation already beading along your fingertips, but you barely registered the chill. All you could focus on was the way Jisung’s eyes tracked the path of your thumb along the rim of the glass, his lips parting slightly as if he wanted to say something then thought better of it.
He cleared his throat and turned back toward the kitchen, but not before you caught the way his knuckles whitened around his own glass. “I’ll be back in a sec” Jisung smiled as he headed up stairs.
Your fingers traced the condensation on your glass absentmindedly as your gaze drifted across the living room. The late afternoon light had shifted and that’s when you noticed it a stack of handwritten notes piled haphazardly beside the sleek laptop on Jisung’s desk, so out of place amidst the meticulous order of the apartment. A single leather-bound notebook lay open on top, its pages filled with dense, looping script that slanted aggressively across the lines, as if the words had been chased onto the paper.
You shouldn’t look. You knew you shouldn’t look. But your feet carried you forward anyway, the hardwood cool under your socks as you drifted toward the desk. The top page was covered in revisions, entire paragraphs crossed out with such anger the pen had nearly torn through the paper and in the margins, tiny arrows pointed to frantic notes crammed between lines. One phrase stood out, circled three times with an intensity that made your pulse stutter, "Her laugh was the first thing he noticed not the pitch, but the way it crinkled her eyes, like she’d been saving it just for him."
The sentence stared back at you, ink slightly smudged where Jisung’s pen had lingered too long. Your fingers hovered above the page close enough to feel the indentations of his handwriting, but not touching. Not yet. Because beneath that line, crammed into the narrow margin like a secret, was another, "She argues like she’s fencing, all quick parries and calculated retreats, and Christ, I want to lose to her."
Your breath caught. The notebook’s spine creaked as you turned the page without meaning to, revealing a half-finished scene where two characters a professor and his student, though the names were scratched out and rewritten three times. The dialogue was verbatim. That was your argument from last Tuesday’s seminar, down to your habit of twisting your pen between sentences.
The next page turned with a whisper, revealing fragments, jotted observations. “Her hair catches sunlight like that brown until it isn’t, then gold at the edges when she turns her head too fast." Your fingers trembled against the paper.
A coffee ring stained the corner of the next page, warping the words slightly, “Bites her lower lip when concentrating. Left side only. Would she notice if I—" The sentence ended abruptly, ink blotted as if Jisung had slammed the pen down mid-thought.
Your fingers closed around the notebook's leather cover before you could stop yourself. The spine cracked open with a whisper, revealing pages upon pages.
The next page turned with a whisper, and your fingers froze against the paper. The handwriting here was different less precise, ink smudged as if written in haste. “She leans forward when she argues, and fuck, the way her collarbones catch the light—like she’s daring me to trace them." The words burned against your retinas. Your pulse roared in your ears, drowning out the distant sound of Jisung’s footsteps upstairs.
Another page. Another confession. "Today she wore that sweater with the loose neckline. Every time she bent over her notes, I had to bite my tongue raw." The ink blurred slightly, as if dampened by sweat or-
Your throat tightened by something else entirely. The margin here was crowded with frantic sketches quick, rough strokes of a hand pushing fabric aside, of teeth grazing a shoulder you recognized with sickening certainty.
The next page was dog-eared, the paper soft from repeated handling. Your breath hitched as your eyes caught the words scrawled in Jisung’s tight, urgent script, “I wonder if she makes noise when she touches herself. Small sounds, barely there—the catch of her breath when she’s trying to be quiet. Or maybe she doesn’t try at all. Maybe she moans loud enough to shake the walls, and Christ, I want to hear it." The ink bled at the edges where his pen had pressed too hard, leaving the paper slightly warped, as if he’d written this in a fever.
Your fingers trembled against the page. A hot flush crawled up your neck as you read on, “Does she bite her lip like she does in class? Or does her mouth fall open, pretty and ruined? Does she think about me when her fingers slip lower—" The sentence ended abruptly, the pen stroke jagged where he’d clearly crossed it out. But not thoroughly enough. You could still make out the words "y/n" beneath the furious slashes.
The notebook's pages stuck together slightly as you turned them, they seemed never ending. Then you saw it, an entry dated just last Wednesday, penned in handwriting messier than the rest, ink smeared like he'd been in a hurry.
“Fuck. Fuck. She wore that perfume today—the one that clings to the air when she walks past my desk. Vanilla and something darker underneath, like she wants to be tasted. Three hours of lecture and all I could think about was pressing my face to her neck and inhaling until my lungs burned. Had to dismiss class early. Locked myself in the storage closet behind the supply shelves. Came so hard I saw stars thinking about her thighs pressed against my ears while she rides my tongue. Her scent was still on my hands when I graded papers afterward. Didn’t wash them until midnight."
The notebook slipped from your fingers, not quite falling, but enough that the spine hit the desk with a soft thump. The sound echoed in the quiet apartment, suddenly deafening. You remembered the pen. The damn pen. Last Thursday, Jisung had paused mid-lecture, patting his pockets with a theatrical sigh before turning to the class. "Anyone got a spare?" he'd asked, and of course you'd been the first to raise your hand, sliding your favorite black gel pen across the desk. He'd taken it with a murmured thanks, his fingers lingering just a second too long on yours. You'd watched, transfixed, as he uncapped it with his teeth (a habit you'd teased him about later) and scratched notes in the margins of his lecture draft. The same pen that had disappeared into his breast pocket afterward, tucked away like a secret.
Now you knew why.
You barely had time to register the sound before the creak of footsteps on the stairs froze the breath in your lungs. Jisung was coming back.
You scrambled to flip the notebook closed. The pages crumpled slightly under your panicked touch as you shoved it back into place, knocking over a stack of papers in the process. A single sheet fluttered to the floor, landing face up, a half-finished poem with your name circled three times at the top, the letters dark and desperate like he’d traced them over and over.
The footsteps halted mid-stair.
You didn’t need to turn around to know Jisung had seen you, the sharp intake of breath behind you was enough. The air in the apartment thickened, charged with the weight of a thousand unspoken words caught between his ribs and yours. Slowly, deliberately, you turned.
The notebook lay open between you like a crime scene. Jisung stood frozen halfway down the stairs, one hand gripping the banister so tight his knuckles had gone bone-white. His throat worked silently, once, twice before he managed a strangled, "You—" and then nothing. The word hung in the air, incomplete, as his gaze darted from your face to the incriminating page and back again. His Adam’s apple bobbed violently.
You’d never seen him speechless before. Not in lectures, not during office hours, not even that time Jeongin from the debate team tried to argue that postmodernism was just "emo for philosophers." But now Jisung looked utterly gutted, his lips parted around unformed words, his free hand flexing at his side like he wanted to reach for the notebook but couldn’t bring himself to move.
"Shit, I'm—" Jisung's voice cracked mid-sentence, the sound raw and unguarded. The air between you thrummed with the weight of everything unsaid.
You took a shaky step backward, your heel bumping the desk leg. The silence stretched for a bit, punctuated only by the distant hum of the refrigerator and the too-loud hitch of Jisung's breathing. His throat worked visibly as he descended the remaining stairs with deliberate slowness, each step measured like he was afraid any sudden movement might send you bolting for the door.
"Jisung." You barely recognized your own voice low, steadier than you felt, as he took another cautious step forward. His glasses caught the light when he adjusted them.
He stopped just out of arm's reach, fingers twitching toward the fallen poem before shoving both hands into his pockets instead. His throat moved as he swallowed. "I can explain," he started, but the words died under your gaze. You'd never seen him like this, chest rising too fast, the usual sharp angles of his posture gone soft with surrender.
"Did you write this about me?" The words left your lips before you could stop them. The air in the apartment seemed to still.
Jisung's fingers flexed at his sides, then curled inward. A muscle jumped in his jaw. For the first time since you'd met him, through countless lectures, heated debates, stolen glances in office hours, Professor Han Jisung looked genuinely speechless. His throat worked silently.
Jisung exhaled sharply through his nose, a sound halfway between a laugh and a surrender. "Yes." His gaze didn't waver. "Every word."
The silence stretched between you. Jisung’s gaze flickered to the notebook then back to your face, searching for something you weren’t sure you could name. His throat moved as he swallowed, the sound audible in the stillness.
"I didn’t expect..." you mumbled, your fingers brushing the frame of his glasses to push them back up his nose. The gesture was intimate, your thumb skimming the arch of his cheekbone before withdrawing. Jisung's pupils dilated behind the lenses as you stepped closer.
"You are such a perv, Han Jisung." The accusation came out breathless, half-laughing, as you tapped the open notebook with one fingertip.
Jisung didn’t flinch. Instead, his lips curved into something dangerously close to a smirk, though his voice was rough when he countered, "You read it." His hand rose to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
"Did you like what you read..?" Jisung's voice was low. His fingers still hovered near your ear, his thumb brushing the shell of it in slow circles that sent shivers down your spine. The question hung between you.
You swallowed, your pulse rabbiting beneath your skin. The notebook lay open between you, its pages filled with Jisung's desperate, ink-stained confessions. "I—" You hesitated, your gaze darting from his lips back to the notebook. "It was... detailed."
“Y/n..." Jisung breathed your name like it was something sacred, his fingers trailing from your ear to the hinge of your jaw. The pad of his thumb pressed lightly against your pulse point, and you could feel the tremor in his hand mirroring your own. "You're shaking."
The observation was soft. You hadn't realized it until he said it, how your knees had gone weak beneath you and how your fingers clutched the edge of the desk for balance. The leather-bound notebook lay between you like a third presence, its pages still parted to that damning passage about the storage closet, about his hands, about the way he'd—
Jisung took a step forward.
"You read it," he murmured again, voice roughened at the edges. His thumb brushed your wrist where it rested against the desk. "Every word. Every fucking confession." His lips curved into a smile,too sharp. "And you're still here."
The slap landed with a sharp crack, not hard enough to sting, but enough to make Jisung’s head snap sideways, his glasses ascew across his face. His cheek burned where your palm had connected, the ghost of your fingers lingering on his skin like a branding. For a heartbeat, neither of you moved.
Then Jisung laughed, the sound scraping against his throat as he turned back to face you. His cheek bloomed pink where you’d struck him, his pupils blown wide behind his disheveled bangs. "That’s it?" he rasped, tongue darting out to swipe at the corner of his mouth. "After everything you just read? That’s all I get?"
You couldn't help but roll your eyes as Jisung inched closer, biting his lip.
"You are such a creep, Jisung," you said, but your voice cracked halfway through, the words landing somewhere between accusation and surrender. Your palm still tingled from the slap, the heat of his skin lingering on yours like an echo.
Jisung exhaled sharply, not quite a laugh, more a release of tension, and adjusted his glasses with deliberate slowness. The left lens was smudged where your fingers had grazed it, distorting his eye behind the glass. "Yeah," he admitted, voice rough. His thumb brushed the reddening mark on his cheekbone, pressing lightly as if testing the sting. "But you knew that." His gaze flicked to the notebook still open on the desk, then back to you. "You read that."
"On the outside you just look like a nice, attractive English teacher..." You tapped Jisung's shoulder with one fingertip, watching the way his throat worked when he swallowed. His glasses were still crooked from your slap, one lens catching the fading light in a way that made his left eye appear darker than the right. "But little does everyone know.."
Jisung's mouth twitched, not quite a smile, but something dangerously close. He caught your wrist before you could withdraw your hand, his thumb pressing into your pulse point with deliberate pressure. "Know what?" he challenged, voice dropping into that register that always made your knees weak during lectures, low and rough, like he'd been grading papers all night.
Your fingers reached up to adjust his glasses, the frames warm from his skin. "You're a fucking horny creep," you whispered, your breath hitching halfway through as laughter bubbled up, nervous, giddy.
Jisung didn't flinch. His exhale hit your lips, warm, as his hands slid up to cage your wrists against his chest. "Tell me something I don't know," he murmured, his voice roughened at the edges. His pulse thrummed violently beneath your fingertips, betraying the calm of his words.
Jisung's hands slid from your wrists to your hips in one fluid motion, fingers pressing into the dip of your waist hard enough to bruise. His grip was possessive, not tentative like the fleeting touches in the café or the careful brush of his fingers on the train. This was deliberate, his thumbs tracing the edge of your hipbones through your clothes like he'd mapped them a hundred times in his head and was finally verifying.
The desk hit the back of your thighs with a dull thud before you registered Jisung moving, his hands sliding under your hips in one fluid motion, lifting you as easily as if you were weightless. Your breath caught as your back met the wall behind the desk, the impact jostling a stack of graded papers that cascaded to the floor in a flutter. Jisung didn’t even glance at them. His gaze never wavered from yours, dark and hungry and utterly focused.
"You’ve been driving me insane," he murmured, the words rough against your lips as he crowded between your knees. His palms slid up your thighs, fingers digging in just enough to make you gasp. The wood beneath you was cool through your clothes, but everywhere Jisung touched burned. "Every damn lecture. Every time you bite your lip thinking too hard. Every—" His voice cracked as your knees tightened around his hips, pulling him closer. "Christ, the way you argue with me like you know I’ll let you win."
Jisung's lips brushed the column of your throat, a featherlight graze that shouldn't have burned, but did. His teeth followed, scraping the delicate skin beneath your ear in a way that made your hips jerk against his. The sound that escaped you was embarrassingly loud in the quiet apartment, half-moan, half-laugh, muffled against his shoulder when you buried your face there.
"You wrote about this," you gasped as his tongue licked the spot he'd just bitten, your fingers twisting in his hair, longer than professors' hair should be, soft between your knuckles. The realization hit you between breaths, every flick of his tongue against your pulse, every nip of teeth was rehearsed. He'd scripted this in smudged ink, weeks or months before your fingers ever touched that notebook.
Jisung's breath hitched when your nails scraped the nape of his neck, just like he'd written in Chapter Twelve, in that messy margin note you'd almost missed. His hips jerked forward instinctively, pinning you harder against the wall as if he could fuse the scene from his notebook directly into reality. The desk creaked ominously beneath you, but neither of you cared.
"I've thought about this..alot," he murmured against your collarbone, teeth grazing the hollow where your pulse jumped. His hands slid higher under your thighs, fingers pressing into the soft flesh there with a familiarity that shouldn't have existed yet. "Every fucking variation. The supply closet after office hours—". "The empty lecture hall when you stay late to argue about Faulkner—".
"Spread them now," Jisung murmured, the words rough against the damp skin of your throat. His hands slid down your thighs with deliberate slowness, fingers pressing into the soft flesh just above your knees, not pushing, just guiding. The desk creaked beneath you as you instinctively obeyed, letting your legs fall open around his hips. The wood was cool against the backs of your thighs, a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from Jisung's body as he knelt between them.
The position should have felt obscene, should have made you scramble to cover yourself, but the way Jisung looked up at you through his glasses, turned it into something dangerously intimate. His breath hitched when your knees brushed his shoulders, the warmth of his exhale ghosting over your inner thighs as he leaned in closer. "Christ," he whispered, fingers flexing against your skin. "You're even prettier than I imagined."
"This skirt is so pretty," Jisung murmured against your inner thigh, his breath hot through the thin fabric. His fingers traced the hem with slowness, following the delicate scalloped edge where it brushed mid-thigh. "The way it fans out when you turn—god, I've watched it all semester." The confession came out rough, punctuated by his soft cheek leaning against the sensitive skin above your knee.
You gasped when his hands slid beneath the skirt. The material pooled around his wrists like spilled ink, the checkered print crumpling under his grip. "You—" The words dissolved into a moan as his thumb found the lace edge of your underwear, tracing the border with agonizing precision. "You stared at my skirt during lectures?"
Jisung’s fingers curled into the lace, his knuckles brushing against the damp heat between your thighs as he exhaled a laugh. "You have no idea," he murmured, dragging the pad of his thumb along the soaked fabric. "The way this one rides up when you cross your legs in the front row. How the hem flutters when you rush out after class." His teeth grazed your inner thigh, blunt and deliberate. "You look so pretty in everything—how could I resist?"
The confession unraveled you more than his touch. His voice was wrecked, syllables crumbling at the edges like the pages of his overhandled notebook. You could feel the proof of his words in the way his fingers trembled, not from hesitation, but from the effort of holding back. The desk creaked as you arched into his touch, your hips lifting instinctively. Jisung groaned, low and ragged, his grip tightening to keep you still.
"This is the type of underwear you wear?" Jisung's voice was pure gravel, his grin wicked as his fingers traced the damp lace stretched taut over your skin. The pad of his thumb pressed down right where you ached most, drawing a choked noise from your throat.
"So fucking slutty," he murmured, dragging the lace aside just enough to expose you to the cool air of the apartment. His exhale hit your bare skin, hot and uneven. "You wore these to my lecture last Tuesday. I know because I saw the strap when you bent to pick up your pen."
Your hips jerked involuntarily, the lace scraping sensitive flesh as he huffed a laugh against your inner thigh. His teeth grazed the same spot he'd written about and you realized with dizzying clarity that he'd cataloged every detail.
"You—" The accusation died in your throat when his tongue replaced his thumb, licking a slow stripe through the fabric. The lace darkened instantly, clinging to your skin as he groaned. "Christ, you're soaked. Just from me looking?"
You bit your lip, embarrassed, looking down, only to realize with dawning horror where your gaze had landed. Jisung's glasses were fogged at the edges, his pupils blown wide behind the smudged lenses as he stared up at you from between your thighs. The flush creeping up his neck matched the heat burning your own cheeks, his parted lips inches from where your skirt bunched around his wrists.
His fingers tightened on your hips just holding you there, suspended in the moment like a sentence trailing off mid-confession. The air between you smelled like charged with something darker, something unmistakable. His exhale hit damp fabric, making you twitch violently against his grip.
"Jisung-ah—" you moaned, the syllables fracturing into a gasp as his tongue finally replaced fingers on lace. The sound startled both of you, too loud, too desperate in the quiet apartment and Jisung's grip on your thighs tightened reflexively. His glasses fogged more at the bridge from your heat, lenses obscuring his eyes but not the way his throat worked when you arched against his mouth.
"You say my name like that," he murmured against damp fabric, teeth scraping the soaked lace just hard enough to make you jerk, "and I'll fail you." The threat would've landed if not for how wrecked his voice sounded, like he'd been the one reduced to panting against someone's thigh. His fingers trembled where they gripped your hips, nails biting crescents through your skirt.
The first lick was slow, flat-tongued and devastatingly thorough as if Jisung intended to memorize the taste of you through lace. His glasses dug into your inner thigh when he tilted his head, the metal frames leaving indentations that would linger like fingerprints. You gasped, fingers scrabbling against the desk's edge as his tongue circled the exact spot you were craving.
"Fuck—" The syllable shattered when his teeth caught the soaked fabric, tugging just enough to expose bare skin to the apartment's cool air. Jisung exhaled sharply through his nose, the sound ragged, before replacing lace with his mouth, hot, open-mouthed and ravenous. His thumbs pressed into your hipbones, holding you in place as he licked into you with the same focused intensity he reserved for dissecting sonnets in class.
"So fucking cute," Jisung mumbled against your inner thigh, his breath hitching as he peeled the soaked lace aside with trembling fingers. The fabric clung stubbornly for a heartbeat before yielding, revealing skin flushed pink with want. His glasses slid down his nose with the motion, one lens pressing cold against your knee as he exhaled sharply, half disbelief at the sight.
"Shit, you're dripping—" The sentence fractured when his thumb brushed your slick heat, his groan vibrating against your skin.
The desk groaned beneath you as you arched into Jisung's touch, your fingers fumbling with the top button of your blouse. The crisp paper of his graded essays pressed against your back, each rustling sheet a stark reminder of how many student assignments were being irrevocably creased beneath your weight. Jisung didn't seem to care, he kissed your thighs gently as your blouse gaped open, revealing the lace edge of your bra to the golden afternoon light filtering through his apartment windows.
"These too?" Jisung's voice was wrecked as he hooked a finger under your bra strap, the elastic snapping back against your skin with a quiet twang. His glasses were completely fogged now, abandoned somewhere in the tangle of discarded papers near your hip. Without them, his gaze was startlingly direct, dark and hungry as it tracked the way your chest rose with each uneven breath. "You wore this to my office hours last month," he murmured, thumb brushing the scalloped lace. "Spent forty minutes arguing about Brontë while I counted every fucking time this strap slipped off your shoulder."
Your fingers trembled against the next button of your blouse from the way Jisung's gaze burned against your exposed chest. The fabric parted with a quiet snick, revealing another inch of skin that Jisung tracked with a hunger that made your pulse stutter. His thumb stilled against your inner thigh, pressing hard enough to leave a mark as you undid the third button with deliberate slowness.
"You're watching me like I'm—" The words dissolved into a gasp when Jisung's mouth found your entrance.
Jisung's tongue was hotter than you expected, flat and deliberate as it dragged through your folds with the same slow precision he used to underline passages in textbooks. His nose bumped your clit when he tilted his head, and you gasped at the sensation, too much and not enough all at once. His glasses were gone, abandoned somewhere in the mess of papers on the floor, you could see clearer the way his eyelashes fluttered when you jerked against his mouth. Without the glasses, his face looked startlingly bare, younger somehow, the sharp angles of his cheekbones and the faint scar above his eyebrow more pronounced.
"You taste like heaven..” Jisung's voice fractured against your skin, his breath hitching when your fingers twisted in his hair. His lips were slick with you, chin glistening where he'd pressed his face deeper between your thighs. The words dissolved into a groan as he licked into you again, his tongue circling your entrance with agonizing patience before flicking upward in a sharp, practiced motion that made your back arch off the desk.
The first finger slid in with ease, his knuckles brushing against you in a way that made your thighs clamp reflexively around his wrist. Jisung let out a muffled laugh against your skin, the vibration sending shocks up your spine, before nipping at your inner thigh in warning. "Easy," he murmured, the word warm and damp where his lips pressed. His free hand smoothed up your trembling stomach, fingers splaying across your ribs as if to steady you. "I'm not going anywhere."
You choked on a moan when he hooked that finger just so, the pad of it rubbing against a spot that made your vision blur at the edges. The desk creaked violently as your hips jerked off its surface, papers cascading to the floor. Jisung didn't even flinch.
The moan that ripped from your throat was embarrassingly loud, sharp enough that Jisung's fingers stuttered inside you, his eyes blown wide as he watched. His lips curled into a smirk you felt more than saw, the vibrations of his chuckle sending fresh tremors through your oversensitive nerves. "That's it," he murmured against damp skin, his tongue lapping at the mess he'd made between your thighs. "Let me hear you."
His free hand slid up your stomach, fingers splaying across your ribs, just possessive, as he added a second finger with torturous slowness. The stretch burned deliciously, your body yielding to him like well-worn pages under his touch. Papers rustled beneath your arched back as you gasped his name again, louder this time, the syllables breaking when his thumb found your clit in relentless circles.
Your fingers tightened in Jisung's hair, just enough pressure to make him groan into you. His scalp was warm beneath your fingertips, strands soft as ink between your knuckles. The motion pulled his head back slightly, forcing him to meet your gaze through the haze of pleasure clouding your vision. His lips were slick, chin glistening where he'd pressed his face into you moments before, and the sight alone sent another pulse of heat between your legs.
The change was instantaneous, Jisung's fingers curled sharply inside you, his wrist twisting at an angle that shouldn't feel possible until you're gasping against the desk's edge. His pace accelerates with the precision of someone who's imagined this exact motion a hundred times, each thrust measured yet frantic, as if he's racing against some invisible clock. His thumb finds your clit again, the pressure brutal in its consistency, rubbing tight little circles that make your vision pulse white at the edges.
"You take me so well," Jisung murmurs, the words vibrating through your skin. His free hand slides up to palm your ribs, fingers splaying possessively as he presses you harder into the desk, ensuring you feel every deliberate stroke. The wood creaks violently beneath you, his graded papers now irrevocably crumpled under your shifting weight. His focus is just on you, lapping like a desperate dog.
"Fuck—Ji, I'm gonna cum—" The words tore from your throat raw and ragged, your fingers twisting in Jisung's hair hard enough to make him groan against your clit.
Jisung's laugh vibrated against your skin, dark and uneven. "Yeah?" His tongue pressed harder against your clit, circling in tight, relentless motions that matched the pace of his fingers. The wet sound of his hand moving between your thighs was lewdly loud in the quiet apartment.
"Cum all over this book." Jisung groaned, his fingers twisting inside you with deliberate cruelty. The pages of his notebook, the one filled with his desperate confessions, lay spread beneath your hips, pristine paper crinkling under your shifting weight. His lips curled into something feral when you whimpered, his thumb pressing down harder on your clit. "You read it," he rasped, breath hot against your skin. "Now ruin it."
The command sent a fresh pulse of heat through your veins, your fingers scrabbling against the desk's edge as his fingers curled. The notebook's pages were cool beneath your bare thighs. You could still see the way his pupils dilated when your hips jerked involuntarily, smearing dampness across his handwritten words.
The moment stretched like taffy, your moans echoed, Jisung's fingers and tongue didn't stop, before everything snapped.
A sound tore from your throat, half-sob, half-laugh, as your hips jerked violently against his hand. Wetness gushed across the notebook beneath you, ink bleeding instantly under the sudden flood, his frantic handwriting dissolving of desire and shame.
Jisung made a noise like he'd been punched, his free hand clutching your hip hard enough to leave fingerprints as he watched his words drown under you. His fingers never stopped moving, drawing out the aftershocks with cruel precision until you were squirming, oversensitive and shaking, his name a broken syllable on your lips.
The notebook pages stuck to your thighs as you gasped for air, Jisung's fingers still lazily tracing circles inside you, gentler now, almost apologetic. His breath came in ragged bursts against your knee, lips parted and glistening. When you finally managed to focus, his gaze was locked on the wreckage beneath you, the ink-blurred pages plastered to your skin like a second confession.
"You..." Your voice cracked. Jisung's thumb pressed against your hipbone in silent question as you swallowed. "You're insane." you breathed out barely.
Jisung exhaled like he'd been holding his breath underwater for too long. His fingers slid from you slowly, sticky with slickness, and he examined them with rapt attention. "Insane?" His voice was sharp like gravel, lips curving into that smirk that always made your stomach flip during lectures. "You're the one who came on my manuscript."
He lifted his hand to his mouth, tongue darting out to lick a stripe across his fingers without breaking eye contact. The groan that escaped him was so genuine, eyes fluttering shut for a heartbeat before reopening with renewed hunger. "Christ. Even better than I imagined."
The sight of Jisung's tongue swiping over his ink-stained fingers, your wetness mingling with the blurred remains of his confession, sent a fresh pulse of heat between your legs. You almost came again just watching him, thighs trembling against the ruined notebook pages still stuck to your skin. When he finally met your gaze again, his pupils were blown so wide they swallowed everything, his lips slick and parted around a shaky exhale.
"You taste like fucking sin," Jisung rasped, his voice wrecked beyond recognition. He dragged the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing ink and spit along his jawline in a way that shouldn't have been erotic but made your hips jerk involuntarily against the desk. The motion dislodged another crumpled page from beneath you, some poor student's midterm, now irrevocably creased and damp, but Jisung didn't even glance at it. His attention was fixed on the way your chest rose and fell with each uneven breath, your blouse still hanging open where you'd abandoned the buttons midway.
"Jisung, I want more—" The whine slipped out before you could swallow it, your fingers curling into the wrinkled fabric of his button-up shirt. The cotton was soft under your grip, still warm from his skin and faintly damp where you'd clutched it during your climax. You yanked him forward with his tie more force than intended, sending his chest crashing into yours with a muffled thump that rattled the desk. His belt buckle scraped your inner thigh, cold metal against overheated skin, as he caught himself on trembling forearms, his breath stuttering against your collarbone.
Jisung exhaled sharply through his nose, his hips jerking involuntarily at the contact. You could feel the hard line of him through his slacks, pressed flush against your still-trembling thigh. His lips parted around a silent curse when you rocked up instinctively, the friction drawing a ragged groan from his throat. "Fuck—" His hands flew to your hips, fingers digging in hard enough to leave bruises as he pinned you back against the ruined notebook.
You whined again, pouting, the sound embarrassing to your own ears, as Jisung pulled back just far enough to study your face.
"More?" His voice was wrecked, syllables cracking at the edges like overhandled paper. "You just came hard enough to ruin six weeks of my writing." he teased.
The reminder sent heat crawling up your neck, part shame, part perverse pride, as your thighs clenched reflexively around his waist. The ruined notebook pages clung stubbornly to your skin. Jisung tracked the motion with a darkening gaze, his thumb brushing the damp lace still tangled around your thigh. "You're greedy," he murmured, lips curling around the accusation like it was a compliment.
You arched an eyebrow and swung your legs off the desk with deliberate slowness, his ruined notebook pages peeling away from your thighs with wet, obscene sounds. "I take that as a no then," you said, smoothing your crumpled skirt down with exaggerated primness even as the damp lace of your underwear clung to your skin. The movement made Jisung's breath hitch, his fingers twitched toward your hips like he wanted to pin you back down, but you'd already slipped just out of reach, your feet hitting the floor.
Jisung's laugh was dark, uneven. He stood between your discarded legs, ink-stained fingers flexing against his thighs as he watched you adjust your blouse with faux innocence. The top three buttons were still undone, exposing the lace edge of your bra. You made a show of refastening just one button, leaving the other two gaping, before turning toward the door with an exaggerated sigh.
"See you later, Professor Han," you murmured, flashing him a smile that was equal parts teasing and breathless.
You didn't make it three steps down the hallway before Jisung's fingers wrapping around your wrist with enough force to spin you back toward him. His breath came in ragged bursts, shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal ink-stained forearms. He was on the brink of looking scary but the sexiness overpowered.
"Fuck this," he growled, tugging you back inside so forcefully your shoulder slammed against the doorframe. The impact knocked the air from your lungs, but before you could protest, Jisung's mouth crashed into yours, all teeth and desperation, his fingers tangling in your hair to angle your head.
The kiss was nothing like the measured, precise way Jisung presented himself, this was messy and so desperate, his teeth catching your lower lip hard enough to sting. You gasped into his mouth, fingers scrabbling at his collar as he backed you against the apartment door. His glasses pressed uncomfortably between your faces, he must've grabbed them from the desk.
Jisung's hands were everywhere at once, cupping your jaw, sliding into your hair, mapping the exposed skin of your collarbones where your blouse still gaped open. Everywhere he touched burned like lit matches, his fingertips leaving trails of ink and want across your skin. When you arched into him, he groaned low in his throat, one hand sliding down to grip your thigh and hike it around his hip with a roughness that made your breath hitch.
"You are such a brat," Jisung gasped against your mouth, his fingers tightening in your hair as you bit down on his lower lip hard enough to draw a sharp hiss from him. The taste of copper bloomed between your tongues and you grinned against his lips, rolling your hips up to feel the rigid line of him through his slacks.
The muffled groan that escaped him vibrated through your chest as he pinned you harder against the door, his knee sliding between your thighs with rough precision.
Jisung's fingers dug into your hips with bruising force as he lifted you effortlessly, one hand sliding under your thigh while the other braced against the small of your back. Your gasp was swallowed by his mouth as he carried you the few stumbling steps to the nearest couch, the world tilting dizzyingly until your shoulders hit the cushions. He followed you down without breaking the kiss, his knee nudging your thighs apart to settle between them with a groan that vibrated through your chest.
The couch was older than it looked, the leather creaking ominously under his weight as Jisung braced himself above you, one forearm planted beside your head while his other hand yanked at his belt buckle with impatient tugs. You arched up to nip at his jawline, laughing breathlessly when the motion made him fumble the clasp. "Someone's eager," you murmured against his pulse point, relishing the way his throat jumped under your lips.
"Spread your legs." Jisung commanded as he loomed over you, the words rasped against your ear with a roughness that sent electricity skittering down your spine. His knee pressed insistently between your thighs, the leather of the couch creaking beneath his shifting weight. When you hesitated, just to watch his jaw tighten, his fingers dug into the soft flesh of your inner thigh, dragging a gasp from your lips as he forced them apart himself.
The couch cushions were cool against your bare skin where your skirt had ridden up, but Jisung's hands were fever-hot as they mapped your body with familiarity. His thumb brushed the damp lace still clinging to you, the fabric soaked through from earlier, and he exhaled sharply through his nose, like the evidence of your arousal was personally offensive to him. "Still wet," he muttered, dragging the underwear down swiftly.
Jisung's glasses slid down the bridge of his nose, just far enough that the frames caught the late afternoon sunlight slanting through his apartment windows, glinting gold against his skin. He didn't push them back up. Instead, he let them perch there precariously, the lenses magnifying the dark hunger in his eyes as they raked over your sprawled form.
Jisung's fingers made quick work of his shirt buttons, popping them open one-handed. The fabric parted to reveal a strip of sharp abs dusted with a trail of dark hair leading to his cock. It landed somewhere near the messy coffee table.
"You're overdressed," he murmured against your collarbone, fingers already sliding beneath the hem of your skirt. The backs of his knuckles grazed your thighs, still sensitive from earlier, as he bunched the fabric upward with deliberate slowness. The leather couch sighed beneath you when you arched into his touch, the cool air hitting your exposed skin as he dragged the skirt down your legs and tossed it aside without breaking eye contact.
The first button of your blouse popped free. Jisung's fingers froze on his belt buckle, mid-tug, his gaze locking onto your hands as you worked the second button loose with deliberate slowness. The fabric parted to reveal the lace edge of your bra, the same one he'd confessed to staring at during office hours, and you watched his throat work as he swallowed hard.
"You're—" Jisung started, then bit off the words when you shrugged the blouse from your shoulders in one smooth motion. The fabric pooled around your elbows before you shook it off entirely, letting it flutter to the floor somewhere near his shirt. His gaze tracked the movement hungrily, pupils dilating further as he took in the expanse of bare skin now available to him. "So pretty.."
Your fingers traced the strained outline of his cock through the expensive fabric of his slacks first, just a teasing brush that made Jisung's breath hitch against your neck. He slid them off faster than you could count, then, charged by the way his hips jerked forward, you slid your hand lower, cupping him fully through the dampening cotton of his briefs. The wet patch was already sizable, the fabric clinging hotly to his skin where precum had soaked through.
"Fuck—" Jisung's voice fractured when your thumb pressed deliberately over the slick spot, his forehead dropping to your shoulder with a muffled groan. His hips stuttered forward into your touch.
"Christ, you're going to kill me," he rasped, teeth scraping against your collarbone as you rubbed slow circles through the damp fabric.
The air left Jisung's lungs in a punched-out groan as he finally, finally shoved his underwear down past his hips. The elastic caught briefly before he kicked the fabric away entirely, his cock springing free with an obscene wet sound where it slapped against his abdomen. The flushed head glistened under the golden afternoon light, precum beading at the slit in a way that made your mouth water instinctively.
"Shit," Jisung hissed through clenched teeth when your fingers wrapped around him without wasting time, his hips jerking forward into your grip like he couldn't help it. His cock was warmer than you expected. He was thick enough that your fingers didn't quite meet around him, the veins along his shaft twitching under your tentative strokes.
Jisung's fingers trembled slightly as he slid through your entrance testing. The contrast of cold air against overheated skin made you squirm, but he pinned you in place with his hips, the blunt head of his cock dragging through your slick folds with deliberate, agonizing slowness. His breath hitched against your throat as he pressed forward just enough to tease, then retreated again with a groan that vibrated through his chest.
"You feel—" His voice fractured when you arched up impatiently, catching just the tip of him inside you. The stretch burned deliciously, your thighs quivering where they bracketed his hips. Ink smeared across your stomach where his fingers gripped you, dark streaks of his horny notes blending with the sweat-slicked flush of skin.
Your fingers tangled in the damp hair at Jisung's nape as he pressed forward with agonizing slowness, the stretch burning in a way that made your thighs tremble against his hips. The angle was different like this, more intimate than anything you'd imagined during stolen glances in his lecture hall, with his forehead pressed to yours and his breath shuddering against your lips. His glasses were perched still on his face, you couldn't decide whether he looked cute or hot biting back his moans.
"Look at me," Jisung murmured when your lashes fluttered shut, his voice rough but impossibly soft, thumb brushing your cheekbone. His hips moved with deliberate precision, each slow advance drawing ragged breaths from both of you until he was fully seated inside you, the sensation so overwhelming your fingers clenched involuntarily in his hair.
"You're too tight," Jisung groaned as he bottomed out, his forehead dropping to yours with a sharp exhale that smelled faintly of whiskey and desperation. The words vibrated against your lips, barely audible over the ragged hitch of his breathing. His cock twitched inside you hot and thick, as your pussy fluttered around him in instinctive response, drawing a ragged curse from his throat.
The veins in his neck stood out in sharp relief, his pulse hammering visibly beneath his jaw as he swallowed hard. "Christ," he rasped, his voice wrecked beyond recognition. "I can't—you feel—"
The first thrust punched a sound from both of you that should've shattered the windows. Jisung's groan harmonizing with your moan as he pulled almost all the way out before slamming back in. The force knocked the breath from your lungs, your nails scoring down his bare shoulders as your back arched off the couch.
Jisung's rhythm was merciless from the start, no tentative exploration, just deep, desperate, rolling thrusts that had your thighs trembling within seconds. The leather couch squeaked beneath you, the sound barely audible over the wet slap of skin meeting skin. One of his hands anchored your hip hard enough to bruise while the other tangled in your hair, tilting your head back to expose your throat to his teeth.
"Ah—Mr. Han—" The moan tore from your throat, syllables fracturing as Jisung's lips sucked at your pulse point with just enough pressure to blur your vision. His answering groan vibrated against your skin, the hand in your hair tightening reflexively when you arched against him. The honorific, so clinical in lecture halls, felt filthy now, dripping from your lips.
Jisung's hips stuttered at the title, his cock twitching inside you with a wet sound that made your thighs clamp around him instinctively.
"So you're into that teacher-student shit, are you?" Jisung smirked against the shell of your ear, the words rough and uneven as he snapped his hips forward with deliberate force. The pace he set was punishing.
“Say it again," he rasped against your throat. His rhythm faltered, just for a second, as he dragged his lips up the column of your neck, breath hot and uneven against your ear. "Say it like you're failing my class and begging for extra credit."
The title tumbled from your lips before you could stop it—"Professor Han"—the syllables cracking mid-moan as Jisung angled his hips just so. His answering groan vibrated through your chest, his fingers tightening in your hair hard enough to sting. Against your throat, his lips dragged wetly across your pulse point.
"Fuck, the way you say it, like you haven't been imagining this since midterms."
The sound punched out of you before you could swallow it, high and mortifyingly desperate, your face flushing red as Jisung’s smirk widened against your throat. His fingers tightened in your hair, angling your head back further to expose the blush crawling down your neck. “That’s it,” he murmured, lips brushing the shell of your ear as his hips snapped forward with renewed purpose. “Let me hear how much you hate this.”
You hated the way your thighs trembled around his waist, the way your nails dug into his shoulders like you were afraid he’d vanish if you let go. Most of all, you hated how your body betrayed you, arching into each thrust with a hunger that made your stomach clench. Jisung’s laugh was dark and uneven against your collarbone as he murmured,
“You’re fucking dripping, sweetheart. Tell me you didn’t imagine this when you handed in your last essay.”
The whimper escaped you before you could bite it back as Jisung’s hips snapped forward with enough force to slide you up the leather cushions. His grip on your thighs tightened, fingers digging into the soft flesh hard enough to leave marks that would linger for days. Your nails scraped down him in retaliation, but he only moaned at the sting, his cock twitching inside you in response.
"Look at you," Jisung rasped, his voice wrecked beyond recognition. His thumb brushed your lower lip, swollen before pressing down.
"Taking me so fucking well." The words vibrated against your temple where his forehead rested, his lashes fluttering against your skin with each ragged exhale. His rhythm was relentless now, each thrust punctuated by the squelches and the creak of overburdened leather beneath you.
Jisung's fingers found your clit with terrifying precision, rough at first, then settling into an insistent rhythm that matched the snap of his hips. The double stimulation had your pussy trembling within seconds. His thumb circled just shy of where you needed it most, the teasing strokes drawing ragged curses from your lips as your hips jerked helplessly against his hand.
"Is this what you imagined during lectures?" Jisung's voice was wrecked as his fingers sped up, the pad of his thumb pressing harder against your clit with each desperate roll of your hips. His smirk was palpable even without seeing it, the smug dick.
"When you'd bite your pen like that and stare out the window?" His teeth grazed your jaw, blunt and punishing. "Were you thinking about my fingers, sweetheart? Or just my cock?"
"All of you," you gasped, fingers twisting in Jisung's hair as his hips snapped forward.
His fingers traced lazy circles over your nipples through the lace of your bra.
"You're my favorite student," he confessed, voice rough with something darker than pride, thumbs flicking over the hardened peaks until your back arched off the couch. "My smart girl." The words dripped slow.
You gasped when his teeth replaced his fingers, biting down just hard enough to make your thighs clench around his waist, the lace tearing slightly under the sharp pressure. His laugh vibrated against you low and pleased, as he peeled the ruined fabric aside to replace it with his mouth. The wet heat of his mouth made you aware of every cell in your body, the suction on your nipple deliberate as he dragged his teeth over the flesh.
"I would hope I'm your favorite," you gasped, nails raking down Jisung's back as he savored the pain, "you're fucking the shit out of me right now." The laugh that escaped you was breathless. Jisung's hips stuttered mid-thrust, his cock twitching deep inside you in response.
"Shit," he rasped, his rhythm turning uneven, slower now, but deeper, each drag of his cock along your walls calculated to wring another broken sound from your lips.
"Trust me," you whispered, "any girl from the class would be happy to be in my place right now." The words tumbled out between ragged breaths.
Jisung froze mid-thrust, his cock twitching deep inside you as his head lifted sharply. The sudden stillness was jarring, his breath hitching audibly against your throat where his lips had been trailing wet kisses. When he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes were darker than you'd ever seen them.
"You're kidding, right?" Jisung's laugh came out strangled, his hips stuttering mid-thrust as his fingers dug into your thighs hard enough to leave bruises. The sudden halt made you whine, your hips jerking up to chase the friction he'd denied you. His grip tightened, pinning you in place.
"I'm so fucking lucky I get to fuck you," he rasped, the words raw with something that sounded dangerously close to romantic.
"You've got every guy on campus wrapped around your finger."
His next thrust knocked the air from your lungs, rougher than before, almost punishing, as if he needed to prove his point through sheer physicality.
Jisung's left hickeys on your collarbone, blunt and possessive, before he dragged his mouth up the column of your throat.
"That TA who 'accidentally' bumps into you after class?" His hips snapped forward on the word, his cock hitting that spot inside you that made your vision whiten at the edges. "The rugby captain who carries your books to the library?" Another brutal thrust, this one deep enough to make your toes curl. "They'd fucking kill to be where I am right now."
The moan tore from your throat before you could swallow it, low and whiny, muffled against Jisung's lips as his fingers circled your clit with relentless precision. His thumb pressed down just shy of where you needed it most, the teasing pressure drawing a broken whimper from your lips that he swallowed greedily. His kisses were messy, all teeth and tongue and barely-contained desperation, his breath hot against your cheek as he murmured filth against your lips between gasps.
"You sound so fucking pretty," Jisung rasped, the words rough with arousal as his fingers sped up, the pad of his thumb pressing harder against your clit with each desperate roll of your hips. His rhythm was merciless, just this side of too much, the stimulation toeing the line between pleasure and overstimulation in a way that had your thighs trembling around his waist.
"Ji—I'm gonna cum," you moaned, Jisung's thumb pressed down hard on your clit in tight, insistent circles. Your thighs trembled violently around his waist, your toes curling against the small of his back where sweat made your heels slip against his skin.
Jisung's hips stuttered at the sound, his cock twitching deep inside you as he bit down on your collarbone hard enough to leave more marks.
"Yeah?" he rasped voice wrecked beyond recognition. His free hand slid up your ribs to palm your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple in rough, distracted circles. "Let me see."
The orgasm hit instantly, one second Jisung's fingers were circling your clit with lazy precision, the next your vision whited out completely as your back arched off the couch. Your thighs clamped around his waist with too much force for a guy about to pull out, your entire body locking around him.
Jisung swore loudly as your walls fluttered around his cock in rhythmic pulses, his hips stuttering mid-thrust.
"Fuck, fuck—" His voice deepend as you clenched around him again, his cock twitching deep inside you.
Jisung's hips jerked once, twice, before he buried himself to the hilt with a groan that sounded like it had been ripped from his chest. His entire body trembling as he spilled inside you with pulses so violent they made your own oversensitive nerves twitch in sympathy. His forehead dropped to yours, noses brushing as you lazily made out.
"Y/n.." Jisung's whispered, his lashes fluttering against your cheekbones as his cock twitched weakly inside you, still riding out the aftershocks. His fingers traced your jaw with uncharacteristic gentleness.
"Fuck, you're perfect."
Jisung's withdrawal was slow, his cock dragging against your oversensitive walls until you whimpered. He collapsed atop you with a groan, his sweat-slick chest pressing flush against your tits, still trembling slightly with aftershocks. His glasses, managed to stay on the bridge of his nose and you couldn't help but giggle as you pushed them back up.
"Sweetheart," he muttered into your skin. His fingers traced idle patterns down your side, not possessive now, just absentminded, like he couldn't stop touching you.
"You wrecked me." His breath hitched when your nails scraped lightly up his spine, the motion drawing a shiver from him despite the heat still radiating off both of you.
Your lips brushed Jisung's forehead in a soft kiss. The contact made him freeze up. You could feel his eyelashes flutter against your collarbone in response, his breath hitching mid-exhale.
Jisung's lips curved into a smile against your pulse point. "That's new," he murmured, the words vibrating against your damp skin. "Not in the notebook."
"Did I meet your expectations in your notes?" You smirked, dragging your fingers through the soft mess of Jisung's hair.
Jisung laughed as he rolled his weight onto one elbow, the motion making his biceps flex where they bracketed your hips. "You exceeded them," he admitted, voice rough. "Though I may need to revise my methodology."
You rolled your eyes but couldn't suppress the laugh that bubbled up when Jisung kissed you again, soft this time.
Jisung pulled you into him as if trying to merge your two bodies into one single entity. His arms wrapped around you with a sudden, fierce intensity, squeezing the remaining breath from your lungs in a way that felt less like a hug and more like a claim. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his skin still damp and hot, and you felt the low rumble of his chest against yours.
"Mine," he murmured, the word muffled against your skin. He shifted, tightening his grip until you were practically crushed against his chest. "Mine, mine, mine."
"You are such a freak, Jisung," you giggled as you looked up to see him grinning.
Only for adults (18+). If any of this is offensive to you or if you're under 18, please don't view it!
All based on fictional events, none of this is real.
SUMMARY: At Chan's electrifying party, you dress to impress, but it's Han's predatory gaze that ignites the spark. Teasing touches in a hidden corner turn desperate, the risk of discovery fueling your desire..
Chan's party at the venue was a vibrant chaos: music thumping like a wild heartbeat, flashing lights dancing over sweaty bodies, and an air thick with laughter, alcohol, and raw energy. You'd decided to dress to impress that night, with a short, tight skirt that accentuated every curve of your body, a fitted blouse that left little to the imagination, and heels that made you feel powerful... or at least you tried to convince yourself of that. There was always that little voice in your head, whispering that you weren't up to par with Han, your boyfriend, and his idol life surrounded by glamour and admirers. But that night, your effort paid off: from the moment you walked in, his eyes followed you like a predator, and now, in a semi-hidden corner of the venue, his hand was already trying to slip under the edge of your skirt.
-Come on baby, just a little...- Han pleaded with those irresistible pouts, his voice low and playful as his fingers brushed the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.
-Hannie, stop... They could catch us- you replied, giving his hand a gentle swat, though the heat rising in your body betrayed your words. The risk made you nervous, but it also excited you, like a spark igniting something forbidden inside you.
He didn't give up. He moved closer, his body pressing against yours in the dim light, the warmth of his skin seeping through the fabric. The music drowned everything out, but his warm breath in your ear was like a shared secret.
-Just a little while, baby... No one's going to notice us here. You look so fucking sexy in that skirt, you're killing me."
Your heart pounded, caught between desire and fear. You looked around: the others were lost in the dance, Chan and the guys chatting with drinks in hand, oblivious to your corner. Still, the idea that someone might turn their head at the wrong moment made your skin tingle. His fingers tried again, this time with more subtlety, toying with the edge of the fabric while his eyes sparkled with that mix of mischief and urgency you knew so well.
-Han, seriously... this isn't the place- you murmured, but your voice sounded weak, without conviction. You felt the heat growing between your legs, a treacherous pulse responding to his touch.
He smiled sideways, that smile that always melted you like butter in the sun.
-Come on, just a touch... I promise to behave afterward- he said, winking at you, his hand sliding a little higher, brushing the seam of your panties.
You bit your lip, undecided, the tension between you like a cable about to snap. Finally, you let out a sigh and looked at him with a mix of reproach and amusement.
-You're impossible, you know that?- you responded, allowing his hand to stay there for just a moment before pushing it away with a nervous laugh.
-But I'm your impossible- he replied, leaning in to brush your lips with a fleeting kiss, but one loaded with promises. The touch was brief, but enough to quicken your breath, leaving a burning tingle on your mouth.
However, Han wasn't satisfied. His eyes shone with pure desire, and he pulled you closer, taking advantage of the shadows. The music thumped, drowning out any sound, and the heat of his body against yours was almost suffocating.
-Baby, I can't take it anymore... You look so fucking irresistible tonight- he murmured against your ear, his voice hoarse and desperate.
His hand went back under your skirt, this time with determination, brushing the fabric of your panties. When his fingers pressed gently, feeling the moisture already seeping through the thin barrier, a low growl escaped his throat.
-Fuck baby... You're soaked. Is this because of me? Shit, you feel so hot and slippery... You have no idea what you're doing to me."
His crude words made you blush, but the heat inside you only grew. He explored with anxious fingers, tracing slow circles over the damp fabric, pressing right where you needed it most. You could feel the moisture spreading, soaking his fingertips, and his reaction was visceral: his breathing quickened, his eyes darkened as if he were on the edge of sanity.
-God babe this wetness... It's like your pussy is begging me to touch it. Fuck, you're dripping, do you feel how the fabric sticks? It makes me want to rip them off and lick you clean right here.
-Stop... They're going to see us- you whispered, your voice trembling, though you tried to push his hand away. He held it firm, rubbing with more intent, his hot breath on your neck as he left wet kisses and soft bites.
-Let them see, I don't give a damn. I just want to feel you more, touch you more... Fuck, this wetness is killing me, baby. You're such an irresistible slut- he growled, his voice loaded with raw need. His fingers pressed boldly, rubbing the soaked fabric until you felt a shiver run down your spine.
Your mind was clouded, desire gaining ground. Finally, with a shaky sigh, you gave in.
-Just a second, Han... But if someone sees us, I swear I won't forgive you."
He smiled triumphantly, capturing your lips in a deep, hungry kiss. Meanwhile, with a quick movement, he slid the fabric of your panties aside, exposing your most intimate skin to the cool air of the venue. His fingers brushed directly against your wetness, and a muffled moan escaped him.
-Shit baby, no barriers... You're so slippery, so ready for me. Feel this-he whispered, sliding a finger inside you with deliberate slowness, feeling your heat envelop him, squeezing him like a vice.
-Fuck, you're so tight and wet... I can feel you pulsing around my finger. Do you want more?"
The sensation was overwhelming: his finger moved with a steady rhythm, curving to brush that sensitive spot inside you, while his thumb rubbed your clit in torturous circles. Each movement made you tremble, the wetness increasing, and his eyes fixed on you only intensified the fire.
-You have no idea what you're doing to me, baby. I want to fuck you now, feel this wetness on my cock- he growled, speeding up the rhythm until you were on the edge, panting.
But just as you felt the orgasm approaching, he withdrew his finger, leaving you with a frustrating emptiness.
-No, darling... You're not finishing here. I need to fuck you for real- he whispered with a hungry smile, taking you by the wrist and dragging you to the nearby bathroom.
As soon as they closed the door, the small space became a furnace of desire. Han cornered you against the wall, but something in you broke: the frustration and longing pushed you to take control. You knelt in front of him, your hands urgently unbuckling his pants, freeing his hard, throbbing cock. It was swollen, veiny, with a drop of pre-cum glistening on the tip, and just seeing it made you salivate.
-I want to make you lose your mind, Hannie... I want to eat your cock until you beg- you whispered, looking at him with eyes full of lust.
His eyes widened in surprise and delight.
-Fuck baby... Do it- he gasped, his hands tangling in your hair.
You started slow, licking the base of his cock with your flat tongue, savoring the salty, musky taste of his hot skin. You moved up, tracing the veins with the tip of your tongue, swirling around the sensitive head, sucking that drop of pre-cum like it was the sweetest nectar. You enjoyed every second: the weight of him in your mouth, the pulsing heat, the way he twitched when you sucked hard. You took him deeper, relaxing your throat to swallow him whole, moving your head in a steady rhythm, alternating between quick sucks and slow licks. You used your hands to caress his balls, squeezing them gently while your mouth devoured him, saliva dripping down the sides.
-Mmm, you taste so fucking good... I love feeling you get harder in my mouth- you murmured between sucks, looking up to see his face contorted in pleasure.
-Fuck baby... This is fucking insane. Your mouth is paradise, suck me deeper... Yes, like that, swallow my whole cock- he growled, his hips thrusting slightly, fucking your mouth with barely contained control.
His moans were deep, echoing in the bathroom, and you felt his cock throb, swelling more with every movement of your tongue. You took him to the edge, sucking voraciously, swirling your tongue around the head while one hand jerked him in tandem, until his body trembled uncontrollably. You enjoyed the power: seeing him vulnerable, hearing his broken gasps, tasting every drop of his arousal. It was addictive, like drinking from him, and the heat between your legs only grew with each of his growls.
But Han couldn't take it anymore. With a wild growl, he lifted you up and turned you against the sink, the foggy mirror reflecting his eyes wild with desire. His hands hiked up your skirt urgently, ripping off your soaked panties and tossing them to the floor like they were a nuisance.
-I can't take it anymore... I'm going to fuck you like the slut you are, I'm going to lose my fucking mind inside you- he growled, his voice hoarse and broken, as he positioned himself between your legs, his hard cock brushing your slippery entrance.
You gripped the edge of the sink, the cold metal contrasting with the fire on your skin, and lifted one leg onto the counter, opening yourself more for him, exposing yourself completely.
-Yes, Hannie... Take all of me, fuck me deep- you gasped, feeling your pussy open eagerly, dripping with wetness.
His eyes locked on the spot where your bodies would join, hypnotized.
-Shit, look at this... Your pussy is so open and wet for me, shining like it's begging for my cock- he murmured, before sliding into you with a slow but relentless thrust.
A guttural moan escaped his throat as he felt your heat envelop him, squeezing him like a perfect glove.
-Babe you're so tight... I feel you squeezing me, how your wetness bathes my cock.
His movements started slow, deliberate, pulling out almost completely before plunging back in, his eyes fixed on the erotic vision: his thick cock disappearing into your soaked pussy, emerging shiny and slippery, with threads of wetness connecting them. Each thrust made him moan louder, his control unraveling.
-God.. this is a fucking addiction... Your pussy sucks my cock so damn well, I can't think of anything but fucking you harder- he growled, speeding up the rhythm, his hips slamming against yours with a wet, obscene sound that echoed in the small bathroom.
Each deep thrust made you gasp, your leg elevated on the sink allowing him to penetrate you even deeper, opening you as if you wanted him to fill you completely. You felt his cock rubbing every sensitive spot inside you, hitting that point that made you see stars, while the wetness built up and dripped down your thighs.
His hands didn't stay still. With an almost savage urgency, he pulled your blouse up over your breasts, exposing the bra that held them.
-Fuck, these tits... They drive me crazy just looking at them- he murmured, leaning in to bite softly over the fabric, his teeth grazing your hardened nipples through the lace, pulling and sucking with a mix of tenderness and ferocity that drew a muffled moan from you.
The bite was playful but intense, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your pussy, making you squeeze tighter around him.
-They taste so good, baby... I want to devour them whole- he gasped, his hot breath over the fabric wet with his saliva.
He couldn't hold back anymore; his fingers worked impatiently to pull down the bra cups, freeing your breasts completely to the cool air of the bathroom. A primitive growl escaped his throat at seeing them naked, bouncing slightly with each movement of his hips.
-Shit, they're perfect... Look how they move, how they bounce every time I drive my cock deep into you- he whispered, hypnotized, his eyes alternating between the spectacle of your joined bodies below and your tits above.
He leaned in to capture a nipple in his mouth, sucking voraciously, his tongue swirling around the hardened peak while he sucked hard, as if he wanted to extract every bit of pleasure possible. He alternated between them, nibbling softly, leaving red, wet marks, while his thrusts didn't stop, each one making your breasts shake in a hypnotic rhythm that drove him even crazier.
-Fuck, baby... Your pussy swallowing my cock, shiny from how wet you are, and these tits bouncing... You're killing me with pleasure, I can't take how good it feels to fuck you like this- he moaned, his voice breaking, sweat beading on his forehead as he lost all control.
His hips moved with animal urgency, thrusting faster, deeper, the sound of skin against skin mixed with the splash of your wetness. You could feel him trembling, his cock throbbing inside you, on the verge of exploding, but he held back, prolonging the delicious torment.
Then, he kissed you. A dirty, messy kiss, full of saliva and desperation. His lips crashed against yours with force, his tongue invading your mouth as if he wanted to fuck it too, swirling and licking greedily. Saliva spilled from the corners, dripping down your chin as he sucked your tongue, nibbling your lower lip with a growl.
-Taste how slutty you are, baby... A mix of my saliva and your desire- he murmured between kisses, his mouth leaving a wet, sticky trail down your neck, sucking and licking as if he couldn't get enough.
The kiss was chaotic, with tangled tongues and exchanged saliva, intensifying the heat between you, making every thrust feel even more raw and connected.
Not satisfied with the rhythm, Han lifted your other leg, placing it on the sink too, opening you completely like an offering. Now you were exposed to the maximum, your pussy open and vulnerable, and he sank even deeper, his cock hitting your cervix with every thrust.
-Yes, like that... Open up more for me, let me fuck you to the bottom-he growled, his hands gripping your hips tightly, guiding the movements while his eyes stayed fixed on the union: his thick cock entering and exiting, covered in your white, slippery cream, stretching you with every penetration.
-Look at this.. Your pussy is dripping, gripping my cock like it doesn't want to let go. Fuck, you're driving me crazy, I feel like I'm going to explode from how good you squeeze.
He changed the angle slightly, leaning in so his cock rubbed your clit with every withdrawal, and added his fingers: one rubbing quick circles over your swollen button, while he kept thrusting.
-Feel this, slut... I'm going to make you come so hard you'll soak the whole sink- he gasped, his voice choppy, the pleasure overwhelming him visibly in how his body trembled, his muscles tense and his breathing erratic.
He kissed your neck again, sucking hard, leaving bruises, while his hips didn't stop, extending the fuck into an endless sequence of pleasure: slow and deep to torture you, then fast and wild to drive you insane.
Your breasts remained his obsession; between thrusts, he went back to sucking them, licking the nipples with his flat tongue, biting just enough to make it deliciously painful, watching them bounce with every impact.
-These tits... Fuck, I love how they shake, how they harden in my mouth while I fuck you- he growled, lost in ecstasy, his mind clouded by pure pleasure.
You could feel him at his limit, his cock swelling more inside you, but he prolonged it, switching to circular thrusts to rub new angles, extending the scene into a marathon of raw sex.
Finally, the tension became unbearable.
-Fuck baby, I can't take it anymore... Your pussy is squeezing the soul out of me, I'm going to come inside you, fill you with my hot cum- he gasped, accelerating to a frantic rhythm, his fingers rubbing your clit with urgency.
The orgasm hit you first, a tsunami of pleasure that made you convulse, squeezing him like a vice, your wetness soaking everything. He followed seconds later, growling like an animal as he emptied himself inside you, hot spurts filling you, his body trembling uncontrollably against yours.
They stayed joined for a moment, panting, the bathroom smelling of sex and sweat. Hann kissed you tenderly now, contrasting the previous savagery.
-You're fucking incredible, baby... But let's get out before they catch us.
They adjusted their clothes in a hurry—you pulling down your blouse, him buckling his pants—and exited into the empty hallway. They returned to the party, blending in with the group, but the spark between you was undeniable.
Every complicit glance promised that the night wasn't over, and the burning secret you shared made every casual touch feel electric. Chan and the guys chatted obliviously, but you knew Han was already planning the next round.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Jisung is sure he must have misheard it. He had to have, right? Yet Minho doesn't laugh it off, he doesn't hit Jisung's shoulder and exclaim 'Ha! Gottcha!' - he just stands there, looking at Jisung with his stupid pretty head tilted, waiting.
OR
Minho on the other hand had made it a habit not to play with fragile things, as they tend to break him if he doesn't destroy them first....But Jisung doesn't make it easy for him, with his wide eyes, shaking words and apparent need to stand close enough to fire to be burned, just to feel a flicker of warmth.
It's a messy thing; to fall in love when you're far from ready for it.
pairings: gamer!han jisung x fem!reader, established relationship
tags/warnings: nsfw, smut, teasing, edging, kinda sub!jisung and nerd!jisung, jisung is whiny and loud, bj, mentions of humping (kinda), nicknames, humour at the end (bc i find myself very funny), short mentions of felix, food
note: english isn’t my first language so spare me pls
word count: like 3k
After reading a dumb clickbait article claiming guys lose interest in sex when they game a lot, you decide to see if it’s true while teasing your flustered boyfriend as he’s focused on gaming.
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚
Stop overthinking it. It’s just clickbait, yeah… you’re not believing that. You’ve been telling yourself that on repeat for the past twenty minutes, trying to believe it. Because you do. Definitely.
Turning back to dinner - the one you’re making for jisung and yourself. He basically begged you to make his favorite instant ramen from the convenience store down the street. Honestly, even after five years of being together and more packets of that ramen than you care to admit, you still haven’t figured out why he adores them so much. At some point, you decided it’s not about the taste at all - it’s the little pokémons on the package.
While pouring some hot water into the ramen cup, you catch yourself stealing glances at your phone. Because of the time of course. Yes, the time. You gotta know how long these noodles take. It’s not like you’ve made them a thousand times over the past few years and know it by heart by now.
Yeah, so much for ignoring it. He’s still in the other room gaming like his life depends on it, and here you are, picking up your phone again just to stare at that stupid article. Your eyes scanning the headline over and over again: ‘A new study shows that men who game constantly may experience reduced sexual desire, as some of their pleasure and reward needs are satisfied through gaming.’ And of course you cant help but think of jisung.
The same jisung who still shyly looks away when you walk around the house without a bra. The jisung who drools when he catches even the slightest peek of your ass in the morning, shirt riding up, no pants in sight. The jisung who whines and trembles, practically begging whenever you tease him, his hands gripping yours as you take him into your mouth, muffled moans spilling out of him, eyes wide and desperate, shivering whenever you touch him just right, letting you lead every move while he can’t do anything but follow, soft gasps and quiet pleas filling the room. Jisung, that could cum in his pants like a virgin, just from hearing you desperately moan “sungie“ in his ear.
Finally, you shut your phone and toss it across the room. Farther than necessary. Standing up and heading to jisungs room, determined to prove this shitty article wrong.
If he truely experiences reduced sexual desire you would´ve noticed that. He‘s just been busy these days with that new shooting game that just came out. Him and felix won‘t shut up talking about how great it is and how smoothly everything runs, considering it‘s barely been out for four days. Four days since jisung and you last messed around. Four days without his hands on your body , without him whining your name, without… you know, actual fun.
knock knock
“sungie? you there baby?” No reply.
Opening the door, you see him. Eyes glued on his monitor, you could say he’s analysing the game, by how focused he’s starring at it. The same eyes which should be examining every single of your curves, not some pixels. His hair is messy, probably from wearing his headset for hours, maybe even days by now. The same messy hair he wakes up with after a hell of a night with you, barely catching some sleep. Now he’s losing sleep over some guns. He’s slightly leaning back into his gaming chair after dying and waiting for his respawn. Taking the perfect position for you to crawl between his legs and suck the last drop of cum out of him.
But it isn’t just the position that makes your heat throb, it’s the way his fingers move so fast, his hands reacting, making you wish you were that keyboard right there. Never have you wished to be a fucking keyboard before, but here you are, standing in your boyfriend’s room getting wet by watching him game.
And the worst thing is, he’s absolutely unaware of how turned on you are right now. So you decide to tease him a bit.
You step behind him, resting your chin on his shoulder, your hands sliding slowly down his chest. “Still alive?” you whisper, your lips brushing his ear. He flinches slightly, eyes still on the screen. “Oh baby, i didn’t hear you comin- YES nice kill lix” he suddenly says mid sentence.
“Sorry baby, i’m a bit bus-” he stops himself the second he can feel your warm lips on his neck. “B-baby what are y-aah“ he whines out. Softly kissing his neck, dragging your tounge all over it. Wet sounds coming from your mouth, unable to get enough of his taste. Did he try a new body wash? The moment you start sucking on his skin, he shivers a little, a quiet sound slipping past his lips before he can stop it. “Aah baby n-not a-ah there i’m sensiti-” he couldn’t finish his sentence letting out muffled noise instead.
“You know, you always look so much better when I mark you up.” And you meant what you said, jisung looks truly breathtaking with your red bites all over his neck. Sweat running down his head, struggling to keep his breath under control, groaning so needy while a flush spreads over his cheeks. You press your thighs together, feeling even hornier now.
You wearing an extremely low cut top isn’t helping jisung’s situation at all. Innocently resting your tits on his shoulders, your nails tracing the love bites you left on him. You caught him starring, boba eyes looking down at your chest on his shoulder. Perfect pillows for him to just lay down on and burry his face in.
“Wai- what- what are you weari-nhaa” he can’t finish his sentence, since you started pressing your nails into his bruised neck. He quickly mutes himself, so felix would’t hear how good you’re making him feel. “Whats wrong baby? Are you sensitive here?” you mumble while pressing another nail into the fresh hickey on his neck. “Y-Yes pl-please don’t- ‘mmm” his eyes slowly rolling back.
His focus wavers, fingers hesitating on the keyboard and you can’t help the small smile tugging at your mouth. No sexual desire my ass. “Ji, you good?” felix voice buzzes through the headphones.
“Yes i-i’m-uh-one sec lix” he mutters, while unmuting and muting himself again , trying to steady his hands and regain focus. But you’re not gonna let him. Slowly leaning down, pushing one headphone away from his ear “why are you so tense sungie?” you murmur, leaning closer. “Do you want me to help you relax baby? I wouldn’t want my pretty boy to play while he’s uncomfortable, now would i?”. He lets out a soft, desperate noise.
“I can’t- not while- while felix’s on call.. and also this is our rank up game” he mumbles. “It took us days to get to diamond a- and there’s no way i can lose this round i- i’ve been grinding almost all week for this a- and i-” you can hear him rambling, explaining something about his rank but you’re not really listening, too distracted by the growing bulge in his black sweatpants. God those sweatpants.
He’s so focused on the game again, he doesn’t even realise that you left his neck (for now). Sliding down quietly and crawling under his table to help him relax, like the good girlfriend you are. You brought your hands to his waist, so you can slide his pants down, but got distracted by his delicious looking tummy.
God you wanted to lick it so bad, hump yourself dry on it. Cumming on it over and over again till neither he nor you would be able to think straight. You’re even convinced you could make him forget his own name. Just the tummy. You make a mental note to try that out later, but now you’ve got something else to focus on.
He feels your hands and instinctively looks down. His eyes widen, and his mouth parts slightly, caught between trying to stay focused and reacting to your touch. “Wh- when did yo- how- w-what” he mumbles in a rush, trying to process the sight underneath him
Before he could say anything you gently tug his sweatpants down just enough to free his cock. Already glistening with precum, it’s so hard he looks like he could cum just by starring down at your pretty face and lustful eyes.
“Please don’t- i mean, not right now- i-i wanna rank up and and i-” he can’t finish his sentence, your hands on him catching him off guard. Your hands wrap around his throbbing cock, fingers sliding firmly from base to tip, smearing that slick precum along the veined length.
You should be understanding, you’re his girlfriend after all, but you’re way too turned on by this whole situation to give a damn about his rank right now. But its okay you’re gonna make it up to him with more ramen.
Slowly and teasingly you start pressing kisses all over his tip. “Dont tease-” jisung’s still trying to process the situation. Cute. “F-fuck i can't the game's-” But his protest fades into a groan when you take him into your mouth, sucking softly at first, your lustful gaze never leaving his.
Your tongue flicking out to lap at the underside of his cock from base to head in one slow, making him moan out loud. You can see his cheek growing red, he’s aware that felix just heard that on the other side of the call. He quickly takes the mouse, muting himself to avoid more possible embarrassing situations.
“Ugh- yes baby s-so good ‘m gonna cum-”
“No. No cumming. You’re gonna continue playing but you’re not gonna cum until i say so” the words come out muffled since his dick is still filling your mouth up, but based on his reaction he understood it. After not touching you for days, he deserved to be punished a tiny bit.
“I- you- i can’t do t-that you know that-” he says, eyes wide almost as if he doesn’t believe what you’re asking from him.
“Sssh focus on the game” you mumble your mouth never leaving his thick cock. He fills your mouth perfectly, the head brushing the back of your throat as you take him deeper and suck harder.
Every attempt he makes to focus ends in a small groan, a pause, a shuffle, betraying just how flustered he is. You can’t help but smile, loving the control you have over him.
He lets out a high-pitched whine “Please i cant- ‘m gonna-”“Not yet” you cut him off, increasing your speed, head bobbing faster up and down. Wet sounds, whimpers and moans fill the room.
“Y/n, I—I can't the match, it's rank-up, shit, they're gonna lose because of me. Please- just- just- slow down, I need to focus” his voice was breathy, laced with that pathetic pleading you loved, but you didn’t slow down instead you pull off with a wet pop, your hand replacing your lips, stroking him fast and firm, twisting at the top to spread the fresh bead of precum.
“Wha-what are you-” his voice cracks into a desperate whimper, eyes fluttering shut for a split second before snapping back to the screen, but the game blurs in his vision.
You take him back into your mouth, bobbing shallowly, playing with his tip. Dragging your tongue so slow from the shaft to his tip that it might even hurt. His whines turn into continuous, breathy pleas, but you’re not backing off. Not yet.
Jisung whines louder, a pathetic, needy sound “Please- please let me cum- i promise i’ll be a good boy- i’m even gonna drop back to bronze if you want me to- ugh- ‘m gonna delete t-the game just let me cum-” his desperate voice turns you more on. “I can be good, so good! I swear!” he continues, but you’re still not giving in.
“Please, y/n let me cum- i’m throbbing, so full, your mouth feels perfect- wet an- and hot and perfect. I can't hold it, the game's lost anyway, just let me explode p-please y/n please. I'll leave the call, fuck the rank-up, all i want is to fill your mouth. ‘m begging you baby- baby, please” his words poured out, whiny, body shaking as you finally took pity or maybe just wanted to push him further, you started sucking harder, faster.
With a final, broken whimper, jisung slammed the escape key, quitting the match mid-round, the disconnect sound beeping through the headset. He yanked the mic away, tossing it aside as the call with Felix cut off. “Fuck the game- now, y/n- , please, just let me- please i can’t take it anymore-”
When you finally hum in approval, jisung doesn’t waste a second shooting his cum into your mouth, eyes rolling back, sweat dripping all over his neck, his mouth opens filling the room with moans and cries. You swallow every drop, milking him dry with your lips and tongue until he slumps back, panting, still murmuring soft, grateful begs,“thankyouthankyou gosh thank you baby”s.
“Wow.. that was” he tries to say something between heavy breaths, still trying to calm down “amazing. I mean- not the blowjob even tho that was amazing too but- i mean you’re amazing”. You can’t help but grin, he such a loser sometimes. But a very cute one. “But uhm…” he starts again, you know he’s about to start rambling again ,“i’m not complaining or anything god no but.. it’s just.. what like uhm what made you do all this?” he asks softly, cheeks growing hot again.
You bite your lip, trying to look serious but failing miserably “for research purposes, obviously. Someone’s got to test your…focus”
He shallows, looking flustered “Y-you mean…all of this? Under the table? Teasing me like this?”
“Exactly” you whisper, leaning closer to his ear “for research purposes. I’m….gathering data” you can’t believe your own words? Gathering data? Seriously y/n?
He exhales shakily, still a little flustered, pushing his glasses up nervously as he glances at you with wide eyes. “You’re… really something. And all of this for research?”
“Of course it is” you tease. “Research can be hungry work.. so how about we got eat that ramen you’ve been begging me to make sungie?”
tags/warnings: han has a crush on reader, smut, roommates, biology/anatomy, studying, teasing, masturbation, praise kink, licking, kissing, making out, hickeys, han is sensitive and easily flustered, sub!han and kinda nerd!han, unprotected sex, reader "leads" han, grabbing, riding, fingering, reader compliments han often and he get's all red (or it's kinda more dirty talk)
authors note: i had to repost this smth was wrong!! the roommates trope was requested :) also i'm gonna start with the hp ones! Thanks to everyone that voted on the poll! Also i "used" the title a bit different here than in my last fic:P
word count: 4-5k
Your roommate han sits with you for a biology study session as you settle on his lap, touching him and using his body to answer the questions. Months of teasing have left your flustered roommate unable to resist.
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The apartment you shared with han was a typical off-campus setup: two bedrooms, a cramped kitchen, and a living room couch that had seen better days. It's just a short walk from the university gates, it was perfect for late-night cramming or early-morning rushes to lectures. You both attended the same college, but different majors - your literature one kept you buried in novels and essays, while han dove into music production. It was a balance that worked, mostly. Except for the part where you'd turned teasing him into your favorite hobby.
You'd always known han jisung was the type to blush at the slightest provocation. With his soft, round cheeks and that sparkle in his eyes, he was like a walking invitation to push his buttons.
It began innocently enough, or so you told yourself. Like that first rainy tuesday in october. You'd both stumbled home soaked from the downpour, classes dragging on longer than expected. Han shook out his umbrella in the entryway, water dripping from his dark hair as he kicked off his sneakers. You, however, peeled off your drenched jacket right there in the hallway, revealing the thin white tank top clinging to your skin like a second layer.
“Ugh, this weather is brutal”, you complained, wringing out your hair and letting droplets trail down your neck. Han's gaze flicked up from unlacing his shoes, and he froze, eyes locking on your chest before snapping away so fast his neck cracked.
“Y-Yeah, totally” he mumbled, voice pitching higher as he grabbed a towel from the closet and thrust it toward you without looking. “Here, uhhmm, dry off. I-l'll make tea or something”
You took the towel with a grin, draping it over your shoulders but not bothering to cover up as you followed him to the kitchen. Leaning against the counter, you watched him fumble with the kettle, his ears burning red. “thanks, jisungieee. You're always sooo sweet. Bet you don't get this much excitement in music theory” you say while leaning closer.
He let out a nervous chuckle, that bubbly sound strained as he avoided eye contact. “E-excitement you say? N-nah, just notes and rhythms. Nothing like... whatever you're studying today.”
The kettle whistled, saving him from saying even more nonsense, but you caught the way his hands shook pouring the hot water.
At school, han could unwind. You'd see him between buildings sometimes, laughing with his friends. No teasing there - just pure, unfiltered jisung, bubbly and carefree. As soon as he entered your shared space, the air changed
The next escalation came on a lazy Friday evening. The water ran hot as you stepped into the shower, imagining his reaction.
Sure enough, minutes later, the front door clicked open, followed by the shuffle of his backpack hitting the floor. You heard footsteps approaching the bathroom, then a sharp intake of breath.
“y/n? Did you...uh...” his voice trailed off, hesitant and already tinged with embarrassment. You turned off the shower, wrapping a towel around yourself before peeking out the door.
There he stood, holding your bra between two fingers like it might bite, his face a completely red. His wide eyes darted from the bra to you, then to the ceiling, and the blush exploded across his skin - cheeks, neck, even his collarbones peeking from his shirt turning a vivid pink.
“Oh! Hannie, you're home early,” you said, stepping out with the towel knotted loosely at your chest. Water still beaded on your shoulders, trickling down into the valley between your breasts. “What's that? Mine? How'd it get there?” you ask innocently.
He thrust it forward, nearly dropping it in his haste, his free hand rubbing the back of his neck as if to hide the spreading red. “It was just... hanging. I-I thought maybe y-you might n-need it or - wait, no, that's stupid. Sorry i-i don't know what 'm saying.. i'll just... put it in your r-room?” his words tumbled out in a shy rush, eyes squeezing shut for a moment. The nickname had him flushing even harder, his ears practically glowing.
You took it from his grasp, your fingers brushing his in the process. He jerked back like you'd shocked him, that shy smile wobbling on his lips while his face burned hotter. “Don't worry hannie i'll handle it. Unless you want to help? clasp it?” you say stepping closer and dropping the towel a bit lower, so its barely covering your nipples.
“U-uh y/n y-your towel it's-“ he tried but it's useless, the red on his cheeks stands out even more now. “You're killing me, y/n. I-Im gonna g-go... study. Yeah. Study.” he says before he closes the door to his bedroom.
The pattern continued. Saturday mornings became your personal favourites. You'd chill in the kitchen in oversized sleep shorts that rode up when you reached for the cereal on the top shelf, bending just so to give him a view of your ass as he poured coffee. “Pass the milk hannie?” you'd ask innocently.
Han's hand would freeze on the carton, his eyes widening before he forced them down, a fresh wave of red flooding his face. He'd pass it over quickly, mumbling, “Sure, here”
“Sleep well?” he'd manage, trying to sound casual, but the blush betrayed him every time.
“Like a baby,” you'd reply, hopping onto the counter and crossing your legs, the shorts hiking higher. “You? Heard you humming in your room late last night. Composing something steamy?”
“Just... melodies. Nothing special.” But you'd catch him glancing at your thighs, only to look away with an even deeper flush.
“hmmm like what you see hannie?” you ask while leaning closer to him “you know i'd give you everything you want right? And with everything i mean absolutely everything hannie, you name it” you whispered into his ear. You like teasing him like this. But before you can continue you can hear his phone ringing. He quickly snaps out of it and goes to pick up the call.
Sometimes you'd drop your phone near his feet during dinner prep, bending at the waist to retrieve it, your shirt dipping low enough for a peek down your neckline. You always wear your best bra for moments like these. Straightening up, you'd find him staring at his plate, fork paused mid-air, his ears red, cheeks burning, even his lips parted in shy surprise.
“Clumsy me,” you'd sigh but not being bothered enough to fix your top.
“No problem,” he'd mutter, voice rough and barely above a whisper, the blush refusing to fade as he shifted.
One particularly night midweek changed everything. You'd come home from a long lecture, skirt rumpled and mind wandering to frustrations beyond books. Slipping into your room, you didn't quite close the door all the way - it wasn't an accident - you just couldn't be bothered to close it.
Your hand slipped under your skirt, fingers circling your clit as tension uncoiled. Soft moans escaped your lips, a low “Ah...” here, a sharper gasp there, the sounds carrying through the thin wood despite your half-hearted attempt at quiet. Your mind went to han, you love his cute flustered face but you can't get his abs out of your head. How can the owner of such an adorable face have such a ripped body? Your fingers start to move faster wishing it were his and not yours.. “hmph.. ugh.. h-han” you moaned out, ...and his back muscles, don't even get started on those, you hope that man never leaves the gym seriously, he and his back muscles are a blessing to man kind.
Thinking about his abs under you, his fingers in you.. you stared moving your fingers even faster and reach with your other hand your breast, pinching your nipples, your mind's filled with han and only him. “Yes.. han.. gosh hannnn...” you continue breathless, as you feel yourself getting close your moans grew wider and wider.
On the other side, Han was in the living room, headphones halt-on as he sketched lyrics. The noises filtered through - subtle at first, then unmistakable. His pencil stopped, face draining then flooding with red as realization hit. He shifted on the couch, thighs pressing together, ears straining to the door down the hall. The slight moans, the rustle of fabric, had his cheeks burning, shyness warring with curiosity. He bolted to his room soon after, door clicking shut, but not before you heard his hurried footsteps, knowing he'd heard every whimper and moan.
In his dimly lit room, Han stared at the insistent bulge straining against his pants “hhh not again,” he muttered, cheeks flushing as he unzipped and freed his throbbing cock. He wrapped his hand around the thick shaft, stroking slowly at first, but visions of your soft, plush thighs wrapping around him flooded his mind, urging him to pump faster, hips bucking into his fist.
Your pinkish lips - full and glossy - haunted him next, the perfect shape for sucking his cock instead of this desperate handjob. A bead of drool escaped the corner of his mouth, he was so lost in the fantasy, imagining them stretched around his tip, tongue swirling.
God, he was embarrassed by these filthy thoughts, but he couldn't stop. Your breasts, heavy and begging to be groped, filled his head - nipples hard under his palms, his mouth latched on, sucking greedily. He'd trade a whole month of manga binges just for one taste, one chance to bury his face between them.
His strokes quickened, slick with precum, a soft "mmm" slipping from his lips as pleasure coiled tight in his core.
The next morning, he avoided your eyes over breakfast. You 'dropped' your fork under the table, bending to fetch it - skirt lifting to bare your thighs. Coming up, you hugged his neck again, whispering, “Morning, hannie. You look cute when you're all sleepy-eyed.” you mumble still a bit sleepy yourself.
“You always smell so good” you added, nuzzling briefly into his neck. He nodded “y-yeah thanks i bought this new..” he kept talking about why he smelled so good but you didn't care it's not like you wanted to smell like him, you wanted his smell on you. It's seriously addicting and you can't get enough of it. You want him to leave it everywhere on your hair, your clothes, your breasts and your thighs..
“Say..” you spoke up again, “do you mind helping me with biology sometime? Exams are soon and they're brutal, also you've always been an A student in bio, we wouldn't even need to check if the answers are right” you continued.
His eyes met yours “y-yeah sure. Whatever” he swallowed hard but you could see the growing nervousness in his eyes.
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You kicked the door shut behind you, the pleated skirt of your university uniform swishing, the blouse felt a bit rumpled from hours of note-taking, buttons straining slightly over your chest, but you left it as is - perfect for what you had in mind.
Dropping your backpack by the entryway table with a soft thud, you inhaled the familiar scent of the place
Padding across the cool hardwood floor, you rounded the corner into the living room. There he was, han jisung, lounging on the worn gray couch with his legs stretched out, uniform still intact from his own classes.
Dark pants hugged his slim hips, the white shirt tucked neatly but with the sleeves rolled up to expose forearms that had grown more defined from his recent gym habit. The tie hung loose around his neck, and his dark hair was tousled as if he'd run his fingers through it in frustration over some melody stuck in his head.
“Hey hannie” you said casually “did you just get back as well?.”
"Hey, yeah like uh 15 mins ago? I think" he replied while rubbing the back of his neck, a classic tell for his nervousness, he glanced away for a second before meeting your gaze again. “Classes dragged today. Music theory prof had us dissecting chord progressions for hours. What about you? Survived the bio lecture?”
Dropping onto the arm of the couch right beside him, your knee brushing his shoulder in an 'accident. The contact made him tense slightly, but he didn't pull away. “Barely. All that talk about cellular respiration has my brain fried. But that's why I need you, genius. Help me cram for the anatomy section? Quiz me, make it stick. The sooner we finish, the sooner we can do a movie night?. You know, blankets, snacks, zero brainpower required.”
His face brightened at the mention of movie night, the pink in his cheeks softening into a genuine grin. “Movie night? Count me in. I've been dying for a break. Yeah, I can quiz you - no problem.”
“Great” you answer with a genuine smile. You get up to grab all of your biology textbooks from your bag and bedroom, and some flashcards. “Okay, tutor. Start simple. Question me like i'm five, but with the real bio answers. Make it interactive - i can point things out, whatever.”
Han nodded eagerly “alright, basics first. Where are the eyes located on the human body, and what's their primary biological function?”
You settled beside him on the couch, close enough that your thigh pressed against his. Leaning forward, you traced the arch of your brow. “Eyes sit on the front of the skull, one on each side of the nose, inside the bony orbits. They're organs of vision - light enters through the cornea, focuses on the retina, and photoreceptors turn it into signals sent along the optic nerve to the brain. The iris controls pupil size to regulate light.”
He blinked, clearly impressed “damn, you nailed that. Way better than my first attempt in class. Okay, building on sensory stuff: the ears. Where are they anatomically placed, and what's the specific role of the outer ear components, like the pinna and the external auditory canal?”
This was perfect. With a smile you didn't bother hiding, you swung your leg over his lap in one smooth move, straddling him before he could process. Your skirt rode up immediately, the fabric whispering against his pants as you settled your weight, core pressing lightly against the warmth of his thigh.
His hands froze mid-air, eyes going wide as a violent blush erupted across his face, painting his cheeks, nose, and even his forehead in deep red. His mouth opened and closed.
“W-What are you doing? y/n I-uh-” he stammered, his body rigid beneath you but not pushing away. Instead, his fingers twitched, hovering near your hips as if unsure whether to touch or flee.
You placed a hand on his chest, feeling the rapid thump of his heart through the blouse, and leaned in until your noses nearly brushed. “Relax, Hannie. It's hands-on learning. You know? A bit of interracting, it's just for the purpose of memorizing it. Also it's way easier to demonstrate on a live model, don't you think? Trust me, i'll remember it better this way.” Your breath tickled his skin as you turned your head, lips hovering near his ear. Gently, you traced the outer curve with your fingertip.
“So, ears are located on the lateral sides of the head, positioned between the temporal bone and the mandible, roughly at the level of the eyes” you said while brushing with your lips against his ear. You can see his them growing red.
“Y-y/n i don't think that's the ans-” but before he can finish his sentence you started licking his ear. His body trembled as slight moan escaped him. When you started to suck and nibble slightly at it he started to 'complain' “y/n... oh God, thats-ahh sensitive please don't-” but by his shaky breaths and eyes rolling back, you could tell that he was enjoying this.
You pulled back just enough to meet his dazed eyes “And hannie? Did i get it right” you asked innocently. “Well uh- yes i mean no, uhm the first part was?” he mumbled out avoiding your eyes.
Unsatisfied with his reaction, you dove back in, kissing along the edge of his ear, your tongue tracing it. Han's moans grew louder, unrestrained - soft at first, then building to needy whines that filled the room. His fingers dug into your sides, not guiding but clinging “feels... too good. Can't think straight,” he admitted, voice muffled against your shoulder as he buried his face there briefly, hot breath ghosting your neck.
“You're doing amazing, taking every kiss. Your ears turning red like this? Such a good boy” you murmured the compliments against his skin, feeling him shiver, his cock hardening fully now, a firm ridge pressing insistently against your core. You ground down subtly, eliciting a sharp cry from him, his head falling back to expose more of his neck. “Aaah-y-y/n” he breathes out.
After a few more teasing licks - drawing out those delicious sounds - you sat up slightly, hands on his shoulders. “Next question, tutor. Keep up.”
Han swallowed audibly, his Adam's apple bobbing, chest heaving as he fumbled for the textbook with trembling fingers. His tie was crooked now, blouse slightly untucked from your movements. Voice hoarse, he managed, “throat... the larynx. Where's it positioned in the neck, and what's its function in both respiration and voice production?”
You hummed approvingly, shifting your weight to grind more deliberately, feeling him throb beneath you. As your lust grows so does his cock underneath you. The small amount of layers making it almost unbearable to not take it out and finally put it in. But you wait. Not yet. You still wanted to play with him a bit.
"The larynx sits in the front of the neck, just below the hyoid bone and above the trachea" you whispered while moving from his ears down to his neck.
“It's made of cartilage and holds the vocal cords inside” you said, now kissing his neck slightly biting it and getting severals moans out of him. “Mhmmm those vocal cords” you say sucking even harder now.
“When you breathe, it opens so air can pass through easily” since it looks like he stopped breathing you decided to help him a bit out and started going up and down on him, humping him slightly, just so your clothed pussy goes down on his huge bulge. He wanted to say something but he only managed gasps and shaky breaths out of him.
“Y-y/n wha- what are you-“ but before he can continue you shut him up by colliding your lips. “The lips. Soft and sensitive, they shape every word, every breath. They tease, taste, and tempt - made for feeling as much as speaking” you mumble out but this time han's lips crash against yours - no hesitation, just heat. His fingers slide up the back of your neck, pulling you closer until your breath mingles and the world narrows to the press of his body. Every movement feels deliberate, hungry, his kiss deepening until it leaves both of you dizzy and wanting more.
You bit at his lip slightly, grabbing his by his tie and deepening the kiss, just enough to get a reaction out of him. His hands clutched your hips harder, nails biting through the skirt, as his body arched into your mouth.
“Fuck-y/n! That... ahh, hurts so good,” he gasped, voice cracking into a whine, his blush spreading down his neck to disappear under his collar, each suck drawing out more desperate sounds - moans that pitched high, whimpers that begged without words.
Letting go of his mouth you look down at your marks on him. admiring the red-purple spot before licking over it soothingly.
“Right here, see? The adam's apple” “mhmmm” he answers in a low moan, “you're moaning so prettily, Hannie. Such a perfect boy for me, letting me mark you up.” The praise made him keen, a fresh wave of heat flooding his face as his cock jerked against you, pre-cum likely soaking his underwear by now.
You didn't stop there, more sucks and nips along his throat, building a trail of hickeys that would bruise even more beautifully by morning. Each one pulled louder cries from him - “Please... more, oh god, your mouth..” - his hips bucking weakly, seeking friction. His tie dangled loosely, brushing your cheek, and you tugged it playfully, feeling him pulse in response.
“Your neck's so pretty and muscular, Hannie. Makes it easy to kiss every inch. And these sounds? Driving me wild - keep moaning like that for me.” You whispered dirty encouragements, your own arousal pooling, panties damp against his hardness. He was a wreck already, eyes glassy, lips parted on pants, but he was ready for the next question, voice wrecked.
“H-Heart... anatomical location and primary function?Chambers, circulation.”
Smirking, you reached for his tie, fingers loosening the knot until it slid free. You tossed it aside, then moved to the buttons of his shirt, popping the top one open to reveal the hollow of his throat. “Mhmmm hannie so pretty” you say while scratching his skin teasingly with your nails as he whimpers, head falling back.
“The heart sits deep in the chest, just left of center-tucked safely between the lungs, behind the ribs” you moved to the next button.
“It's strong and steady, a muscle that never rests. Four chambers working in pertect rhythm, pulling in and pushing out life with every beat” you whisper popping another one open.
With each button undone - two, three, four - more skin emerged: the sharp line of his collarbones, the smooth width of his chest. You pushed the fabric apart, exposing his nipples.
Leaning down, you kissed the center of his chest, right over where his heart hammered wildly “feel that beat? That's your pump working overtime because of me” you say with a wink, making him chuckle but also growing red “you're unbelieveable y/n..”
Han's moan was low, loud and raw as your lips sealed over the skin, sucking a hickey directly above his chest bone. His hands roamed up your back, clutching desperately, body bowing off the couch “y/n... yes, fuck - your tongue.. it's too much-“ he cried out, voice breaking. His abs clenched visibly as you trailed lower, kissing across his torso.
“God, hannie, your chest is incredible. So firm, these muscles i can't get enough of them i really want to lick them” you said with lustful eyes. He couldn't take it anymore, moans growing louder - long, needy draws of breath turning to sharp gasps. “Such strong muscles hannn ahhh- bet you worked hard for them. Makes me want to bite, eat you up completley.”
His cock strained, grinding up against your soaked panties with each roll of your hips. “Please... touch me more. I'm yours - tell me I'm good,” he begged, voice pleading, blush spreading down his neck.
You did, nipping gently before licking broad stripes over his skin, a bite here a lick there. Nails going over his toned abs.
“You are so good, baby. The best. Look at these arms - wrapping around me so tight, all buff and powerful. Turns me on seeing you like this, shirt open, moaning loud for your roommate” your hands slid to his biceps, squeezing the taut muscle as you sucked harder on his chest, leaving a lots of marks. “Mhmm y/n m-more- praise me more-“ he said shyly and breathless.
But you didn't want to give completely in yet. Just a tiny bit more teasing. Just a bit.
Without prompting, you transitioned smoothly. “Lungs next, sitting on either side of the heart and protected by ribs. They let you breathe - air comes in when the diaphragm and chest muscles expand them, and goes out when they relax”
Your fingers traced his ribs, pushing the shirt fully off his shoulders to bare his torso. You kissed lower, over the lung fields, tongue dipping into the dips between muscles “breathe in deep for me, hannie. Show me how they fill.” He obeyed, chest expanding on a moan, your mouth following the rise and fall.
You ground down harder, feeling his desperation, Your fingers traced his ribs, pushing the shirt fully off his shoulders to bare his torso. You kissed lower, over the lung fields, tongue dipping into the dips between muscles “breathe deep for me, hannie. Show me how they fill.” He obeyed, chest expanding on a moan, your mouth following the rise and fall.
You ground down harder, feeling his desperation, dirty talk spilling freely. “Your lungs must be working overtime with all these moans. So hot hannie, panting like that - fill me with those sounds.”
Cries echoing as you explored, hands kneading his abs - hard muscles that flexed under your palms. “These? Insanely defined. Your body is soo hot hannie, making me wet just looking at it. No not wet. Making me almost even cum” you whispered, praise fueled him, his hips snapping up, cock leaking steadily.
Time blurred in the haze of touches and questions, but Han pushed on, voice a wrecked rasp. “Fingers... the structure and muscles of the fingers. What's their use?”
Bingo.
You locked eyes, his blown pupils reflecting your hunger “each finger has joints that bend and stretch, with the thumb a little different. Muscles in your arm and hand let them move just right-gripping, pressing, teasing... or exploring”
Grabbing his hand, you guided his fingers to your blouse, unbuttoning it slowly to expose your bra, lace straining. Then, putting his index and middle fingers into your mouth, sucking at them, you swirled your tongue, coating them in saliva. Han groaned deeply, a loud, submissive sound, his free hand fisting the couch “y/n... fuck, your mouth a-and tounge-“
Popping them free, slick and shining, you hiked your skirt higher, shoving panties aside to bare your dripping pussy. The cool air hit your folds, but his gaze burned hotter. “Watch, me hannie. See how they function inside.. of me” you pressed his fingers to your entrance, sinking down slowly, pushing them into the tight, wet heat.
He cried out, eyes rolling as you clenched around him “so warm... tight, oh shit-y-your pussy's gripping me ughh” his voice was loud, moans punctuating each word as you rode his fingers, guiding his thrusts. You curled them yourself at first, showing the motion, then let him take over.
“Curl like that - yes, hit my walls. Good boy, fingering me so deep. Your fingers are perfect, long and skilled - making my clit throb” you ground against his palm, pleasure coiling tight. He pumped eagerly, thumb finding your clit by instinct, rubbing circles that had you moaning back.
“Am I... good? Tell me, please y/n tell me- fuck, you're soaking m-my hand” he whined, pleas mixing with his loud groans, blush fierce as he watched his fingers disappear inside you.
“The best, baby. So good, learning my body. Your arms flexing while you do this? So buff, so hot - drives me crazy hannie”compliments poured, pushing him faster until your orgasm hit, walls fluttering, juices flooding his hand in a gush. “H-hannn” you cried trembling.
Pulling off, you brought his fingers to his mouth “clean them. Taste how you wrecked me” and he sucked greedily, moaning at the flavor, eyes watery.
But the fire raged on. You tugged his belt open, zipper down, freeing his cock-thick, veined, tip glistening with pre-cum.
“Next?” You asked, but you weren't expecting an answer that has anything to do with the biology textbook this time - he didn't give one, anyway. Instead, he told you exactly what he wanted.
“The ass," he panted, voice desperate. “Location, function - mmmmm...”
“Posterior pelvis and proximal femur, largest skeletal muscle. Extends the hip for standing, walking, climbing - powerful thrusts too” smirking, you grabbed his hand, placing it on your ass cheek, forcing him to squeeze the firm flesh through the skirt.
“Feel mine hannie? It's strong for riding” you said leaning closer to his ear "wanna.. see for yourself? Making sure i'm saying the truth" he moans. He moans so loud and squeezes your cheek harder, so hard it defenitly left a red mark.
He kneaded roughly, groaning “so full.. perfect ass, y/n-wanna- wanna- grab it while...” his words trailed into a moan as you stroked his cock.
“You will, pretty boy. Your cock's throbbing-sooo big hannie, leaking for me" positioning over him, you sank down, pussy swallowing his length inch by inch. He was huge, stretching you full, and you both moaned- yours husky, his loud.
“y/n it- 'm so so deep in you- your walls, milking my cock- p-please, ride me. I promise i'll be good, i'll be s-so good for you just let me put it in completely. Please- y/n i need-“
And you did, starting slow, rolling hips to grind his base against your clit. Then faster, bouncing, tits spilling from your bra. Wet slaps filled the air, his moans constant - loud, broken cries of “yes y/n oh my- your pussy's perfect- and your tits p-please let them free i-i need to see them p-please i've been imaging what they look like for so looong-h-how they feel a-and taste God y/n just remove your bra i-i can't take it-“ he thrust up submissively, letting you set the pace, hands squeezing your ass as guided.
Finally, you gave in, unhooking the bra with one hand and letting it fall away. Your full breasts bounced free, swaying as you rode him faster, grinding your clit against his pelvis. Han's eyes widened, a groan ripping from his throat “fuuuck they're pretty- so big, so soft... please, let me taste y/n” he strained upward, mouth open, tongue out like a starving man.
You leaned forward, shoving one tit into his eager mouth. He latched on immediately, sucking hard on your nipple, teeth grazing the sensitive peak while his hips jerked erratically beneath you. His free hand kneaded your other breast. The dual sensations - his cock pounding into your dripping pussy and his hot mouth devouring your tit - pushed you closer to the edge.
“That's it- fuck into me. Good boy, filling me so well. Your abs clenching? Wanna cum on them soo bad. Arms around my waist- hold me while I use you” dirty talk flowed, praise endless “moan louder, Hannie. Love hearing how my riding breaks you. Such a good big cock, twitching inside.”
He obeyed, cries echoing- "g-gonna cum- please- you're too good, praising me... your body's so mhmmm" his body's tensing, abs rippling under your nails.
“Cum now, fill my pussy, like you've always wanted it - you earned it, so good and obedient” he shattered with a loud moan, hot cum pulsing deep, triggering your own release, clenching around him in waves.
You collapsed onto his chest, both panting, his arms wrapping loosely. Hickeys dotted his skin, shirt ruined. “Best lesson ever, hannie. You're the best study partner, letting me use your body like this to demonstrate. This is going to be my favorite study method from now on”
He chuckled weakly, still blushing. “Shower... then movie?”
“Absolutely” you kissed his jaw while getting up “...also before i forget - you should show me where you got all your biology knowledge from? I need to prepare for our next study session. i'm questioning our A student hannie next, let's so how well you really know bio.”
Can you do a chapter 2 with professor han jisung X nerd (teachers pet)? Pleaseeeee
Teacher's pet 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ pt.2
☆...━━━━━·:*☆...━━━━━·:*☆...
Pairing: Nerd!Jisung x afab!reader
Genre: smut no minors pls! (Includes unprotec sex & possessive themes)🔞
Summary: What starts as an academic crush on your painfully observant professor becomes significantly harder when you secretly date him.
Wc: 6k
Enjoy reading <33 If you want any specific ideas tell me and I will see what I can do!
A/N: Part 1 lowkey eats ts one up i think personally, i enjoy writing nerdsung he is so handsomeeee (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ
Teachers pet part 1 <—— 🍒
☆...━━━━━·:*☆...━━━━━·:*☆...
You leaned your chin on your palm, watching Professor Han Jisung dismantle elizabethan poetry with a level of enthusiasm that was entirely too much for a Tuesday morning. He was pacing the front of the room, his movements fluid and restless, gesturing with a piece of chalk that left white smudges on his fingertips. He wore these oversized, silver-rimmed glasses that kept sliding down the bridge of his nose, forcing him to push them back up every few minutes.
"The tragedy isn't that the beauty fades," Jisung murmured, his voice dropping an octave as he leaned over a student's desk to correct a margin note, "it's that we pretend it doesn't."
He looked effortless, a softness that felt almost unfair to the rest of the room. You found yourself biting the inside of your cheek, your gaze lingering on the way his hair curled stubbornly at the nape of his neck. Every time he pushed those silver frames back up his nose, you felt a sharp, electric tug in your chest. As you scanned the room, you saw the way other girls leaned in, hanging on every syllable, their expressions mirroring your own quiet adoration.
It was a dangerous game, sitting in the back and pretending you weren't the only person in the room who knew exactly how he liked his coffee or the way he sighed in his sleep.
The plastic cap of your pen had a bitter, chemical taste that lingered on your tongue. Your eyebrows were knit tight, your focus entirely decoupled from the lecture on Romanticism. In your mind, you weren't in a lecture hall, you were recalling the weight of his head on your shoulder from the night before, the way he had fallen asleep mid-sentence while reading a paperback, his breath warm against your collarbone.
The sudden, sharp sound of a textbook hitting your desk snapped you back to the present. You blinked, the memory clearing just in time to find Jisung staring directly at you. He had stopped standing perfectly still at the edge of your desk. The intensity in his gaze was bordering on predatory, a quiet obsession that flickered behind his glasses, marking you out as his own even in a room full of people.
“Hey, pay attention,” Jisung said, his voice cutting through the silence playfully. He didn’t stop moving, his stride continuing around the podium, but the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth was reserved entirely for you. It was a brief, thing.
The reaction from the surrounding rows was instantaneous. A collective, giddy ripple of energy shifted through the girls sitting nearby, their postures straightening as they competed for his attention. They leaned forward, eyes wide and hopeful, basking in the sudden focus he’d brought to your section of the room. The air around them felt thick with a desperate sort of admiration.
They were orbiting him like satellites, their attention so laser-focused and frantic that the space around your desk felt like it was shrinking. Unable to stomach them any longer, you leaned forward, pressing your forehead firmly against the open page of your notebook, the rough texture of the paper scratching your skin, and stared through the gap between the desk and the window frame.
Outside, a single, stubborn maple leaf was clinging to a branch, shivering in the autumn wind. You wanted to vanish into the scenery, The absurdity of it all, the fact that you knew the exact frequency of his laugh when he was tired, or the way he’d leave tiny, handwritten notes in the margins of your books, felt like a heavy secret you were guarding with your life.
The ghost of his breath was still there. Only three hours ago, the world had shrunk to the size of your bedroom, the blinds drawn tight against the morning light, and the sound of your own ragged breathing echoing off the walls. You could still feel the pressure of his tongue, the way he had looked up at you through his glasses,his eyes dark and focused with a hunger that felt like it could consume everything in its path. He had been methodical, obsessed with every inch of you.
Now, sitting here in the back row, the contrast was dizzying. The sterile, academic air of the hall felt like a lie. You looked at the chalk dust on his fingers and remembered those same fingers gripping your thighs, pulling you closer to the edge of the mattress with a possessive urgency.
You shifted your gaze back to the front of the room, only to find that Jisung hadn't looked away. He was still speaking but his eyes were locked onto you. He didn't blink, didn't falter in his speech, but the way his jaw tightened slightly told you he was acutely aware of every second you spent not looking at him.
The tension was broken by a sudden, rhythmic tugging at the back of your head. Beside you, Changbin was slumped in his chair. He had long since given up on taking notes, his notebook currently serving as a coaster for a lukewarm energy drink.
With a lazy, absentminded focus, he had reached over and begun twirling a lock of your hair around his finger, tugging it idly as he stared blankly at the chalkboard. It was a gesture born of years of familiarity, a mindless habit of a best friend who viewed you as a sibling.
You turned toward Changbin, the movement slow and heavy, while your hair remained coiled tightly around his finger. He didn’t even look at you, he was staring at the ceiling with a vacant, glazed expression, his thumb rubbing the length of your strand with a rhythmic, mindless friction. To anyone else, it was just two friends sharing a space of boredom, but as you looked back at the front of the room, you saw the exact moment the air shifted. Jisung had stopped talking. He was still standing by the podium, but his posture had gone rigid, his shoulders squaring as his gaze dropped from your eyes to Changbin’s hand.
Jisung didn't call you out. He didn't even raise his voice. Instead, he simply stared at the point where Changbin’s finger met your hair, his eyes narrowing behind those silver frames. The silence didn't last, but the tension did. With a sudden, sharp inhalation, Jisung broke the stillness, his voice returning as if the interruption had never happened. He didn't acknowledge the gesture. He began to write, large, sweeping letters that screeched against the slate. He was ignoring you both now, treating the back row as if it were a void, yet the way he gripped the chalk was so tight that a small piece snapped off under the pressure, clattering to the floor.
You rolled your eyes silently and turned your attention back to your notebook. Changbin didn't let go of your hair immediately, instead leaning in to look at your page.
You didn't look up at the front of the room. Instead, you shifted your notebook slightly to the left and scribbled a small message.
(:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)
Hey <3 (•⩊•)
(:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)
Changbin, still leaning in, blinked as he caught a glimpse of the heart. He didn't say anything but he let out a low, thoughtful hum, his gaze drifting from the paper back to the professor. He shifted his weight, his arm brushing against yours.
The ink from Changbin’s pen was a jarring, bold black against the pale cream of your notebook.
(:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)
Wsp pretty?
(:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)
he had scribbled, the letters looping with a lazy, casual confidence. He didn’t look at you while he wrote, he kept his gaze fixed on the ceiling, his expression vacant, but his hand moved with a practiced ease. It was the kind of mindless flirting that came from years of friendship.
You didn't hesitate, sliding the notebook back toward yourself and scribbling a response.
(:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)
Nothing just bored :p
(:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)
Me too don’t look up lol
(:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)
Changbin scribbled, his handwriting a messy sprawl that nearly overlapped your own.
The warning was a playful challenge, a dare to see if you could resist the magnetic pull of the man at the front of the room. Naturally, the moment the words were written, the temptation became an itch you had to scratch.
You slowly lifted your gaze, found Jisung exactly where you expected him to be.
He wasn't looking at the blackboard anymore. He was standing perfectly still, his arms crossed over his chest, his silver glasses perched precariously on the bridge of his nose. He was glaring. The lecture had momentarily ceased to exist, replaced by a silent, heavy demand for your undivided attention.
Then, as if a switch had been flipped, the intensity vanished. Jisung blinked, his expression smoothing into a mask of professionalism, and he turned back to the board to finish a sentence about the importance of art.
You didn't look back at the podium, you didn't need to. A slow smirk pulled at the corner of your lips as you leaned towards Changbin. You scribbled a quick, jagged note beneath his:
(:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)
Bro we’re so dead lol. 𖹭
(:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)
You slid the notebook back to him.
Changbin let out a muffled snort, his shoulders shaking as he read the words.
(:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)
I’m hungry, wanna get dinner tonight?
(:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)
Changbin’s asked. As he slid the notebook back, he didn't pull his hand away. Instead, he let his fingers linger, stroking the back of your hand in a slow, clingy rhythm that had become his default setting whenever he was bored. He yawned, a wide, jaw-stretching stretch that made him look more like a sleepy housecat than a uni student, his eyes fluttering shut for a second.
(:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)
Maybe I’ll text u later if I’m free
(:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)
you added with a scribble, followed by a dramatic pout from Changbin. You couldn’t help but giggle.
The bell rung, echoing in the lecture hall. The sound triggered a frantic migration, the students walking toward the exits, voices overlapping in a blur of chatter and the rhythmic thumping of backpacks being swung over shoulders. In the sudden movements, you and Changbin remained seated in the third row, moving in a synchronized, lazy way. You slid your notebook into your bag with an excruciating lack of urgency, while Changbin spent a good thirty seconds wrestling with a stubborn zipper, humming a mindless tune.
"I'm telling you, the place on 4th street has the best spicy beef," Changbin muttered, finally winning his battle with the zipper and stretching his arms over his head with a loud, satisfying pop of his joints. He began to stand, his hand instinctively reaching out to steady you by the shoulder.
"Actually," Jisung’s voice rang out, cutting through the departing students with a precision that made Changbin’s hand freeze on your shoulder. He was leaning against the podium, his posture deceptively relaxed, though his fingers were still curled tightly around the edge of the wood. "You two. Stay behind for a moment."
The room emptied with a sudden, vacuum-like speed, the last few stragglers looking curiously back at you as they vanished into the hallway. Changbin let out a long, confused sigh, his hand sliding off your shoulder as he slumped back into his seat. He didn't see the way Jisung’s eyes were currently dissecting the space where his hand had just been, or the way his jaw was clenched.
Shit, you thought, the word echoing in your mind. You realized, perhaps too late, that you had just committed a sin in the eyes of a man who viewed your attention as his personal property.
Jisung descended from the podium. The rhythmic sound of his dress shoes echoed against the floor, he stepped deep into the aisle, his presence effectively boxing you in.
As he reached your desk, he didn't speak. He simply leaned over, planting one hand on the desk and the other on the back of your chair. The silver frames of his glasses had slid down his nose again, but he didn't push them up. He looked down at you, his gaze sweeping from your eyes to the notebook still open on the desk, where the ink of Changbin’s "pretty" was still visible. The heat you'd felt during the lecture had evolved into something electrifying that made the hair on your arms stand up.
You and Changbin shared a look, a quick, synchronized glance that served as mutual acknowledgement.
“So,” Jisung started, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous hum that vibrated in the small space between you. He didn't look at Changbin. He didn't even acknowledge the other boy's existence, treating him like a piece of furniture that happened to be in the way. His focus was obsessively locked on you, his eyes searching yours for some sign of apology, or perhaps a flicker of the submission he craved. “I don’t recall mentioning that the Romanticism unit required a collaborative effort involving... handwritten notes.”
Changbin blinked, his expression shifting from confusion to a slow, dawning realization that he was the third wheel in a conversation. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the plastic creaking loudly in the silence. "Uh, Professor? We were just—"
“I didn’t realize my lectures bored you both this much,” Jisung said. There was no actual anger in his voice, but there was something more playful and disappointed. He shifted his gaze slightly, finally acknowledging Changbin, but it was the look one might give a particularly annoying insect.
Changbin opened his mouth to defend himself, but the words died in his throat. He shifted his weight awkwardly, his shoulder brushing yours again, and you saw the precise moment Jisung’s eyes flickered down to the point of contact.
"Sorry, sir," Changbin mumbled, the words sounding small and rushed. He was usually the one filling the silence with noise, but under the heavy, suffocating weight of Jisung’s gaze, he seemed to have forgotten how to be loud.
Jisung didn’t move. He remained leaned over you, his shadow swallowing you whole. He finally shifted his gaze, his voice cutting through the air. "Pay attention, or you will find yourself failing this semester.”
Changbin didn’t linger. He stood there for a heartbeat, his expression a mixture of genuine confusion and a lingering sense of "what just happened?" He looked at you, then at the rigid silhouette of the professor still looming over your shoulder, and decided that the air in the room had become too thin for his liking. With a quick, hesitant nod that looked more like a twitch, he began to back away. "Right. Yeah. My bad sir." he muttered, his voice sounding distant as he bowed and retreated toward the exit. He paused at the threshold of the row, casting one last, questioning glance over his shoulder. "You coming?" he asked, the offer a casual lifeline meant to pull you out.
You didn't even look at him. You couldn't. Your entire universe had shrunk to the few inches of space between your face and Jisung’s chest. You slowly shook your head.
"I'll meet you later," you murmured. You didn't need to see Changbin’s reaction to know he was bewildered, but you heard the soft, puzzled huff of his breath before his footsteps finally left, the heavy thud of the exit door closing behind him with a click.
The silence that followed Changbin’s departure was not a relief, it was a vacuum drawing the remaining air out of the room until there was nothing left but the scent of Jisung’s cologne. He didn’t move for a long second, his body still a living wall of heat blocking you from the rest of the world. Then, with a slow movement, his hand shifted from the back of your chair to the desk. His fingers brushed against the edge of your notebook, a casual touch that felt like a claim, before he slid the book toward him.
He didn't ask for permission. He didn't even look at you as he flipped the cover open, his eyes scanning the pages with a clinical, predatory focus. You watched the way his gaze locked onto notes. Jisung’s expression remained carefully neutral, but you could see the telltale signs of his irritation, the slight flare of his nostrils, the way his jaw remained clamped tight, and the rhythmic, impatient tapping of his thumb against the paper.
His eyes lingered on the words ”pretty?” for an excruciatingly long time. The jealousy didn't turn as a lecture, it was a quiet heat. He dissected the notes, his gaze lingering on every heart and every playful scribble. The sight of another man's handwriting on your page seemed to offend him on an another level.
" 'Pretty,' is it?" he murmured, his voice a dangerous vibration that sent a shiver straight down your spine. He finally looked up. His professional mask had completely shattered, replaced by a raw hunger that made your breath hitch.
"I find it fascinating that you have so much energy for extracurricular activities during my lecture on the nature of desire."
You leaned back into the plastic chair, a smile spreading across your lips. The sheer possessiveness radiating from him was an massive turn on. It was a quiet victory, seeing the composure of the Professor Han Jisung fracture over a few scribbled words in a notebook. You let your gaze travel up from his clenched knuckles to the sharp line of his jaw, savoring the way his breath hitched as he realized you weren't intimidated by his glare.
Every day, you watched the girls in the front row lean in until they were practically falling off their seats, their expressions a desperate longing for a single shred of his attention. It felt only fair, to let him taste the same jealousy you had.
Jisung finally let the notebook drop, the heavy thud of the cover echoing through the hall. He shifted his weight, leaning closer. The intensity in his eyes softened just a fraction, replaced by a glint of something playful yet dangerous. A small smile tugged at his lips.
“Look, I know you understand everything I teach,” he murmured. He let his gaze drift over your face, tracing the line of your jaw and lips.
“You are the teacher’s pet, after all.” He let the word *pet* linger in the air, teasing and heavy with a meaning that had nothing to do with grades.
The playfulness didn't last. The moment the word pet left his lips, the simmering jealousy that had been brewing since the first touch of Changbin’s finger on your hair boiled over. In a movement so swift it was almost violent, Jisung’s hand shot up, his fingers locking around your jaw with a sudden, bruising intensity. He didn't squeeze hard enough to hurt. He forced your head back, tilting your face upward to expose the vulnerable line of your throat, his eyes dark and frantic behind the silver frames.
He didn't give you a chance to speak or laugh. He lunged forward, his mouth crashing against yours in a kiss that tasted of desperation and raw, unfiltered possessiveness. It wasn't tender, like this morning, it was a rough and demanding. He kissed you as if he were trying to erase the memory of every other person in the room. The force of the impact pushed you back against the hard plastic of the chair, the frame creaking under the sudden weight of his body as he crowded into your space.
You pulled back, the sudden vacuum of air between your lips feeling colder than the room itself. You didn't retreat far. You looked up at him with an exaggerated pout. Your heart was hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs.
Jisung watched the pout with intensity, his eyes scanning your features as if he were memorizing your face again. His gaze dropped to your lips, noting the slight swelling from the force of his kiss.
“Do you enjoy making me feel like this?” Jisung sighed.
“Come.”
Jisung retracted himself with a suddenness that left you feeling cold, his posture snapping back into a rigid, professional line. He didn't look back as he reached for his leather satchel, the strap snapping against his shoulder with a loud, authoritative crack. The tenderness of the last few seconds had been incinerated, replaced by a focused, simmering intent. He turned on his heel and began to walk, his stride long and purposeful, leaving you to scramble out of the chair with your bag to keep pace.
The walk to his office was a quiet. Jisung walked through the nearly empty corridors. You followed a few paces behind, the sound of your own footsteps softer, hesitant, almost like a shadow trying to keep up with its source.
Every time you caught the scent of his cologne drifting back toward you it felt like a leash tightening around your neck, pulling you forward.
As you turned the corner toward the faculty wing, you could hear the distant hum of a vending machine and the muffled laughter of a student in a far-off lounge. He didn't look back once, yet you knew he was acutely aware of your proximity.
The lock snapped, a sound that severed the office from the rest of the university. The moment the door shut, the professional distance Jisung had maintained in the hallway vanished as if it had never existed.
He didn't even let you properly step into the room as he collided with you, his arm hooking around your waist to yank you flush against the door. He crashed into you with a raw, starving intensity that left no room for air. A loud, involuntary moan escaped your throat, the sound echoing off the walls of the small, book-lined space.
His hands were frantic. One palm pressed firmly into the small of your back, arching you into him, while the other tangled deep into your hair, tilting your head back to gain a deeper, angle. Every time you tried to breathe, he filled the gap, his tongue tracing your mouth with a hunger that felt less like affection and more like an obsession. He was trying to overwrite every other touch from the day.
“My hair… my pretty girl… my beautiful,” he groaned against your skin, the words vibrating through your collarbone. The phrases were breathless. “You’re all mine.”
“Jisung-ah, I’m sorry,” you panted, the words coming out in a rush as you struggled to find oxygen. Your chest was heaving, your heart drumming against his ribs. You shifted your weight, trying to find a pocket of air in the suffocating heat of his embrace.
“I was trying... I was actually trying to pay attention...” You paused, a small, breathless laugh escaping you as you looked up at the man who was currently unraveling in your arms. “And then... I think I just got jealous that the girls were fawning again.”
For a heartbeat, Jisung froze, his forehead pressed against yours. The possessive energy shifted to dangerously needy. He let out a low, guttural sound, a mixture of a groan and a sigh, as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his grip on your waist tightening until there was no longer a single millimeter of space between your bodies.
He guided you toward the center of the room. His desk was a curated chaos of journals, stacks of ungraded essays, and a single desk lamp that cast amber shadows across the room.
With a sudden, fluid movement, Jisung hoisted you up onto the edge of the desk, scattering a pile of poetry critiques with a reckless sweep of his arm. His focus was entirely on the friction of your thighs against the wood. Before you could even gasp, his hand slid upward, the fabric of your skirt bunching under his palm as he hiked it up with an impatient tug.
"You have no idea," he whispered, "how agonizing it is to stand three feet away from you and pretend I don't want to pull you into my lap and keep you there for the entire hour." He leaned in, the silver frames of his glasses clicking softly against your skin, and he let out a sharp, shaky exhale.
"You are so breathtakingly beautiful it's so distracting."
“Aw, Jiji, you’re such a baby,” you teased, the words coming out as a soft hum. You reached up, cupping his face with both hands and pulled him down just enough to press a sweet kiss to his forehead.
You didn't give him a chance to regain his composure. With a sudden movement, your hands dropped from his cheeks to the leather belt at his waist.
The leather belt gave way with a final, heavy thud against the desk, and as the fabric of his trousers loosened, he sprang free, thick, pulsing, and radiating a heat that hit your body. The sight of him, thick and horny, sent a feeling straight to your core. You arched your back against the desk, your fingers digging into the muscles of his shoulders, your voice barely a whisper as it broke in the quiet of the room.
"Fuck me, Jisung," you gasped, the words coming out as a breathless plea.
His reaction was instantaneous. Jisung’s pupils dilated.
"Shit, you're so hot," he rasped, his voice sounding like gravel. He stared at your glossy, parted lips. "The way you look at me when you're needy... it's fucking lethal."
A soft smile curved your lips as you reached down, your fingers hooking into the lace of your underwear. You shifted the fabric to the side. Your face was flushed, the warmth radiating from your chest up to your cheeks. You were already dripping, a slick warmth that coated your thighs and entrance.
The thick, searing head of his cock brushed against your entrance with a slow precision.
He let out a shuddering breath, his forehead resting against yours, his voice a fragile, broken whisper. "You're so perfect," he murmured, the words vibrating against your lips. "Every single thing about you... it's just too much."
Reaching up, you wound your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him forward with a sudden, insistent tug. As you did, you shifted your hips, tilting upward to meet him in a seamless, sliding motion. He entered you in one deep, shuddering plunge. You both moaned loudly, as you quickly pulled him back in to silence it with wet sounds.
You moaned into his mouth, the sound vibrating between your joined lips, and he answered with a low, guttural rumble that started deep in his chest.
Jisung began to pump into you with a suddenly, his hips snapping against yours. The friction became a blur of heat and pressure, each deep, shuddering thrust driving the air from your lungs.
Just as a particularly deep plunge sent a wave of electricity crashing through your core, causing you to cry out, Jisung’s hand shot up. His palm slammed against your mouth, muffling your voice into a soft, stifled whimper.
Jisung’s teeth sank into his own lower lip, a desperate gesture to stifle his moans climbing up his throat. The sound of your pleasure was a drug to him, but the risk of the thin office walls added an edge of adrenaline to the act.
You instinctively mirrored his silence, your own hand flying up to cover your mouth. You moaned into your palm, although the sound didn’t muffle the wet lewd slapping sounds between the two of you.
As Jisung drove into you, his rhythm hitting your sweet spot that made your vision blur, you reached down. Your fingers found your swollen clit soaked as massaged it, matching his pace.
The moment your fingertip grazed your clit, Jisung hit the spot again. A silent, violent shiver broke your entire body.
The sudden knock against the frosted glass of the office door sliced through the haze of pleasure like a blade. The sound was an intrusion. You gasped, your body still vibrating from the peak, but before you could draw a full breath, Jisung’s palm slammed back over your mouth with a firm, commanding pressure.
"Mr. Han? You in there? I wanted to double-check the syllabus for the joint seminar."
…
“Yes, I’ll meet you in the teacher’s lounge in a bit.”
Jisung’s voice was composed, it didn’t betray a single tremor of the chaos happening. The audacity of him, the way he could switch from a starving animal to a poised academic in the span of a heartbeat, turned you on even more.
The footsteps didn’t vanish immediately. Instead, they lingered, the rhythmic click of heels pausing just outside the frosted glass. Another soft, feminine murmur drifted through the gap beneath the door, a hushed conversation between teachers. "Is he still in there?" the woman whispered, her voice a curious, melodic lilt. "We’ll ask him to Lunch in a bit."
Jisung didn’t flinch. The danger of discovery didn't seem to scare him, if anything, you felt him get harder. He watched your pupils dilate, watched the way your breath hitched in your throat, and a proud smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. He loved this secret.
The footsteps finally receded. The moment the sound vanished, Jisung let out a jagged exhale, his forehead dropping onto your shoulder. He didn't pull out. Instead, he shifted his weight, his hips tilting in a slow, agonizingly deep grind that forced a muffled whimper from your lips.
"They're gone," he rasped, the professional facade crumbling back into that raw, possessive hunger. He pulled his hand away from your mouth, but only to replace it with his lips, kissing the corner of your mouth with a desperate pressure. "Did you like that? The risk of it?"
"You’re such a flirt, Professor Han," you breathed, your voice a fragile, ruined thing.
You tilted your head back, your eyes fluttering shut as you felt him finally begin to move, the slow, sliding friction. You let out a dramatic, exaggerated pout, shifting your weight on the desk as you looked up at him through your lashes. "I can't help but wonder... why exactly are you friends with all the female teachers?"
It was a half-joke, a playful jab at the way the faculty lounge often became a hub of soft laughter and lingering glances whenever Jisung walked in.
“What can I say? I’m a charming guy,” he murmured, the words vibrating against your lips. He punctuated the statement by rutting into you with a sudden, punishing depth that knocked the air from your lungs. The smirk on his face was devastating, he was reminding you that while the world saw a polite, polished academic Jisung, you were the only one who got to see him like this.
He shifted his grip, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs to pull you flush against him.
“Don’t worry, I’m all yours forever,” Jisung murmured, “No other girl could ever compare to my love. None of them even exist in my eyes.”
The admission was a confession of an obsession that went far deeper than physical. His hands, no longer content with just your waist, slid upward with an impatient urgency, groping through the thin fabric of your shirt. He squeezed your breasts as if he were trying to mold your very form into his own.
"Jisung... I'm close," you whined, the words breaking into a ragged, desperate plea. You reached up, your fingers trembling as you gripped the bridge of his silver frames, shifting them slightly as they had gone crooked from the friction of your faces colliding. Even in the midst of this frantic chaos, you couldn't help but notice how unfairly pretty he was.
The small adjustment of his glasses seemed to break him more. Jisung let out a low, guttural sound, his hips locking against yours with bruising intensity.
Jisung paused, his breath hitching as he looked at the silver frames in your hand. For a moment, the frantic pace of his movements slowed, replaced by a sudden, deep curiosity.
He reached out, his fingers trembling slightly as he took the glasses from you. Instead of sliding them back onto the bridge of his own nose, he leaned in gently as he slid the frames onto your face. The glasses were too large for you, sliding slightly down the bridge of your nose and framing your blown-out pupils with a heavy view that felt absurdly erotic.
He pulled back just an inch, his eyes widening as he took you in. The sight of you wearing his glasses transformed into something entirely lewd in his mind. A low, shattered sound escaped his throat, a mixture of a groan and a gasp. "Fuck," he rasped. "You look so good in my glasses, baby. I’m gonna cum— take me deep please.."
You didn't need words to answer him. With a slow, heavy blink, you nodded, the oversized frames sliding further down your nose. Jisung didn't hesitate, he rutted into you roughly, bumping your clit everytime he re-entered.
The world dissolved into a blur of amber light and the scent of his cologne. As he bumped against you again, the pressure was too much, the tension in your body snapped. You cried out, a sound that was swallowed by the silence of the office, as your pussy clamped down on him. The orgasm hit you in waves, crashing over you with such force that your fingers dug deeply into his shoulders, your nails marking the fabric of his shirt. You held him with a desperate grip, anchoring yourself to him as the peaks of pleasure pulsed through you.
Jisung let out a broken, guttural groan, his entire frame shuddering as he felt you cum around him. The sensation was the final blow to his orgasm. Jisung lunged forward one last time. He whined your name into the crook of your neck, his body rigid and trembling as he spilled into you, the heat of his release flooding your core. He collapsed against you, his forehead resting on your shoulder, both your breaths frantic.
For a long minute, neither of you moved.
“Holy shit,” Jisung breathed out. He sounded completely wrecked. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes still hazy with pleasure, and found you laughing, a breathless giggle that bubbled up from your chest. The sight of you, flushed and disheveled, still wearing his oversized glasses that had slid halfway down your nose, seemed to wreck him. A small, lopsided smile tugged at his lips.
This was broken by the distant sound of a door slamming in the hallway, the sudden noise snapping Jisung back into his role as the guardian of their secret. With a sharp, focused efficiency, he withdrew from you, reaching for a clean linen handkerchief he kept in his desk drawer, he began to clean you up gently. His long fingers smoothed the bunching fabric of your skirt. As he leaned in to straighten the collar of your blouse, his gaze softened, he leaned forward to press a light kiss to the tip of your nose.
You looked up at him, a genuine, sleepy smile curving your lips.
“Give them back, you little thief,” Jisung murmured. He reached out, his fingers grazing your jaw as he tried to gently hook the frames from your face.
He looked utterly undone, hair slightly mussed, tie hanging crookedly around his neck, and eyes still shimmering with heat.
You didn't make it easy for him. With a mischievous glint in your eye, you slid off the desk. You stepped back just as he lunged for the glasses, your laughter echoing through the quiet office.
“Nuh-uh,” you declared, a proud smile spreading across your lips. You leaned back, glancing at the door and then back to him, your voice dripping with playful confidence. “I’m gonna go prance around all your lady teacher friends and show them you’re a taken man.” You nodded giggling, the glasses sliding down your nose again, making you look like the annoying student Jisung recognised at the start of the year.
Jisung froze, his hand still suspended in mid-air. The idea of you walking through the faculty wing wearing his glasses, sent a visible jolt through him. He didn't want the world to know, and yet, the thought of you claiming him in such a public way made his pulse spike.
A genuine laugh bubbled up from his chest.
"You are absolutely insufferable," he murmured, his voice a soft, ruined vibration. He reached out, not to reclaim his glsssed, but to cup the back of your neck. He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a lingering kiss that felt like a promise. "And you're devastatingly cute when jealous."
