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for the past eighteen years of your life, you have always been the golden child. top of all your classes, flawless grades, an attitude your teachers loved, and the one your parents brag about at every family dinner.
but ever since you moved away for university, everything turned upside down. majoring in health science wasn’t as easy as you thought—it was killing you. second semester, two weeks before finals, and it’s not looking so good.
all your deadlines are starting to blur together, and no matter how many all-nighters you pull, your grades always stay at rock bottom.
you sighed as you flopped onto your bed, hair splayed across the sheets in a messy tangle. another friday evening lost to studying (procrastinating for most of it), and the pile of almost-failed assignments beside your desk continued to grow.
the stress of maintaining your parents' expectations weighed heavily on you; you even started to ignore their messages and calls.
it didn’t help that your dormmate, yoona, was a total frat girl. you couldn’t tell which aspect of her was worse: her dragging you to parties, or her bringing the parties to your dorm.
nonetheless, you still appreciated her. yoona had been there for you through countless late night studying and endless rants about your classes.
she knew how much stress you were under with your plummeting grades. so, she came up with a proposal.
”why don’t you just fuck your way to the top?”
you turn your head quickly, nearly getting whiplash and dropping your textbook off the table. “seriously yoona? that’s your solution?”
your voice cracked slightly. you stared at her like she’d insulted you—she basically did. yoona was lounging on her bed in tiny shorts and a cropped tank, painting her nails a pretty pink as if she hadn’t just dropped a bombshell on you.
she didn’t even bother to look up. “hey,” she said with her signature shrug. “you even said professor park’s hot and known for being strict as hell on grading. plus, you’ve got nothing to lose now anyway. he’s failing you.”
you opened your mouth to argue, but snapped it shut again. that was the worst part. she wasn’t wrong at all.
you’d walked into that anatomy class beginning of college thinking it would be another lecture where attendance was taken and grades were based off your attitude—then he walked in.
prof. park jongseong. tall, fit, and always in tailored suits that fit just too well across his shoulders and hips. his eyes sharp enough to cut through the bullshit excuses you gave him for your missing assignments.
and now, yoona wanted you to use what little confidence you had left to seduce him? no way in hell.
”yoona, i— you know i can’t do that!” you stammered quietly, picking up your pencil you dropped earlier. “he’d never go for me anyway.”
she just smirked. the kind of knowing look only someone who’s seen too much, heard so much, could pull off. she finally met your gaze over her pink-polished fingers.
”you’d be surprised,’ she said softly.
so, the rest of the week, you start coming to class in makeup. not the usual messy bun everyone’s seen—but the version of you that yoona made. the way you dressed up for frat parties, the perfume you’d only use once in a while.
your clothes were more for sitting than you normally wear. your loose sweatshirts were replaced by a tight top that showed off curves you forgot you had.
your hair was styled for once. hair framing your fame perfectly instead of being tossed into a hairstyle that yoona always teased you about.
you slipped into anatomy five minutes early. another first. your gaze turns to your usual seat in the back, but it’s already taken. that placed you two rows from the front.
the lecture hall buzzed with quiet chatter, mostly the scratch of pens on notebooks, but all your senses sharpened when he walked in.
professor park. he moved into the room with quiet authority. his polished black shoes clicked against the floor, suit hugging his broad shoulders, hair perfectly styled with not a strand out of place.
he set his briefcase on the desk without looking up, fingers unzipping it with a practiced ease.
then he did look up. his gaze swept over the class in a quick manner, and for one terrifying second, it landed on you.
you picked at your white nail polish in response, immediately looking down. yoona had painted your nails to get you to calm down, but it just resulted in you freaking out all over again.
did he notice? the makeup? the flitted blouse that was tucked neatly into your skirt. the way your freshly shaved legs were crossed—only because you didn’t want to look so awkward?
his attention from you turned away, writing today’s lecture topic on the board.
by the end of friday’s class, the air had become intense. mr. park emailed you once or twice about your grades, but you never got back to him.
you lingered to pack up slowly. when the hall was almost empty, park’s voice cut through the silence. “can i have a word?”
his voice was low but firm. your fingers stuttered mid zip of your backpack, tightening around the strap. the room had emptied fast: so now it was just the two of you.
you stood nervously before walking down the steps towards his desk where he was still seated at the front. “yes, professor park?” you cleared your throat, forcing your legs to carry you towards him.
he didn’t look up right away. he took his sweet time adjusting his glasses—ones with the thin black frames that made him look unapproachable.
he met you with a blank stare, “you’ve been.. different lately.” his tone wasn’t accusing. it was curious. “more present in class, but ignoring my emails, are we?”
you blinked rapidly. different?
”i— i’ve just been trying harder,” you stammered out quickly. the inner script buried in you kicked in on instinct, “i know i haven’t been performing as well as i should be, i’m apologize for not responding and—“
“that’s not what i meant.” he cut in gently, still firm.
”no?” your voice cracked slightly and the heat rushed to your neck. you cleared your throat again.
”no.” he leaned back slightly in his chair. “i meant you. yourself.”
park just stared at you for a moment. it was obvious enough that you couldn’t think of anything to respond with.
”you look good today.” he added. yet, there was no flirtation in his tone. it sent you down a spiral. he said it like he was stating a fact.
water is wet.
gravity pulls down.
you’re failing this class.
you look good today.
what the fuck?
“and then he told me straight up!” you blurted, pacing the length of your dorm bedroom.
yoona didn’t even look up from her phone. screenager. she was sprawled on her bed, scrolling through her phone with one hand while running her fingers through hair. “told you what? ‘you’re going to fail’?”
”no—ugh, no!” you flopped next to her, arms flailing. “he said i look good—like it was a fact! right to my face. not in a joke or a polite way.. he just said it.”
yoona finally paused mid scroll and turned her head slowly towards you, one eyebrow arched. “hold up,” she said flatly.
”you mean, stone cold professor park—guy who looks at everyone like they’re beneath him during lectures.. actually told you to your face that you look good?”
you buried your burning face into a pillow and groaned loudly. “yes! and— worst part, he didn’t even smile! he just dropped it and i walked away like he hadnm’t completely short circuited my brain!”
“okay, she drawled, crossing one leg over the other. “so, he’s made it known that he’s noticed how hard you’ve been trying not just academically—but physically?” yoona smirked. “i think he’s trying to get you beneath him.”
”shut up,” you threw the pillow at her. “i’m serious! it’s— it’s terrifying,” you stammered out between covering and uncovering your face again. “what does it mean? is he testing me? leading me on? was that his version of flirting..?! do professors even flirt with their students?”
\yoona leaned forward suddenly and seriously. “babe.. either he doesn’t care at all.. or he’s paying attention.”
you swallowed hard.
she spoke up again, “well, finals week is coming up. you better hurry and wrap it up. literally.”
monday morning rolls around and you find yourself standing in front of your closet, feeling oddly nervous about something as simple as picking out clothes.
you run over the neatly hung blouses and skirts, the familiar sight feeling unfamiliar with the twisting feeling in your stomach.
yoona lounges on her bed, eyes following every movement you make. she breaks the silence first. “you gonna dress up again?”
you pause your fingers mid touch, suddenly self conscious. you turn around and meet her knowing gaze. “i.. thought about it, yeah.” you say with an uncertain shrug.
yoon rolls her eyes but can’t quite hide her amusement. “you’ve got it bad, don’t you?” she sits up, leaning back against the headboard.
class definitely passes in a blur. you sit at the front row, out of it, and very aware of professor park’s gaze on you. every time his eyes linger a moment longer than necessary, your heart lurches.
student start filling out when the class finally ends, but you stay behind to collect your notebook for your study sesh later.
park approaches you from behind, his footsteps almost silent on the hardwood floor with those damn polished shoes of his. you freeze, hands gripping your stationery tightly.
he stops just behind you, the proximity making your heart beat faster. “yn,” he says lowly. “may we talk?”
you take a moment to compose yourself before turning on your heels, finding him standing much closer than you’d anticipated. he’s just as composed. arms folded, and gaze cold behind the thin frames of his classes.
”of course,” you manage, trying to sound nonchalant.
you watch as the last student exits the room, leaving the two of you alone in a locked classroom. he doesn’t step away, and the cologne of his teases your senses.
he gestures towards the desks nearest to his, gesturing for you to sit down. park moves to take the seat across from you and notices your fists clenched around the notebook.
”relax,” he says, his voice is almost.. amused? “i’m not going to bite.”
you blink, trying to loosen your grip. “sorry,” you mumble, setting the book aside. your heart refuses to slow down. what does he want to talk about?
he leans forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table while studying you.
you speak before he has the chance. “um, i’ve been meaning to ask.. is there anything i can do? i mean, to get my grades up..?”
professor park raises an eyebrow at your diversion but doesn’t comment on it. he leans back slightly, the chair creaking slightly. “there might be a few things you can do, yes.”
pausing for a moment. “but first, a question.”
he nods slowly, leaning forward once more. “mhm. tell me,” he continues, “why do you think you’re doing so badly in your classes right now?”
you feel your cheeks warm at the sudden straight up question, but you push past the embarrassment. “i.. i’ve had trouble studying. especially since my roommate isn’t the typical girl i’d have as one, i guess,” you answer honestly.
he tilts his head slightly. “hm,” park hums as if contemplating something. “interesting.”
the way he says it gives you the impression that it’s definitely interesting, and not just in a casual remark sort of way. you shift in your seat.
”then,” his voice is back to that commanding and controlled tone. “i may have an idea regarding your grades.”
your attention snaps back to the reason for this conversation. “an idea?”
one of his hands moves idly to brush a nonexistent speck of dust from his suit. “yes,” he confirms. “i can offer private tutoring lessons. one-on-one. after hours.”
you blink, unsure if you heard right. “tutoring?”
”yes,” he watches your reaction carefully. “but understand—this wouldn’t be like anything we do in class. no distractions, no excuses.” his eyes flick over you once, “we’d work.. intensely. a different environment from your dorm.”
“and you’d.. do this for me?” you can’t hide the tremor in your voice.
he doesn’t answer right away. instead, he walks around the desk until he’s standing beside you. close enough that you catch his scent again.
”i don’t do favors without effort,” he murmurs, looking down where your hands rest in your lap. “but if you’re serious, then so am i.”
you swallow hard. “when would we start?”
”now.”
your heart stutters. “now?” you had expected some time, maybe a day, a few hours. but now? right in this moment?
”meet me in my office in ten minutes.” he nods his head to the door of his office where the blinds had been tight shut. “bring your books.”
more than ten minutes later, you were studying anatomy in ways you’d never thought you would.
”you know,” park groans between thrusts of your mouth. “this isn’t how most students study for anatomy exams.”
you don’t stop. your hands grip his thighs for balance as you take him deeper, your lips stretched around him. saliva slips down the corners of your mouth.
the sound he makes is a half curse and half surrender. he leans back in his chair, hands trembling in your hair as you settle back a little. you swirl your tongue on the head of his cock before pulling it out with a sweet pop.
”tell me, professor park.” you wipe your lips with the back of your free hand, other hand gripping him relentlessly. “do you do this often?”
”he leans back, still panting as your hand works at an agonizing slow pace. “please, call me jay.” he manages to say, “and is that a question you really want answered?”
you give the base of his dick a firm squeeze, being a little petty for his sarcasm. your words still come out breathless. “jay, i do want an answer.”
“i don’t do this often.” he takes a shuddering breath as you increase the speed. “yn—!” he grits in between his teeth, “slow down, i’m going to come all over your face.”
you slow down enough to keep him teetering on edge, “not yet.”
jay’s muscles are taut. the veins in his arms are standing out as he grips the armrest of his chair. “please,” he gasps out, “let me touch you.”
there’s a desperate edge to his voice that goes straight to your core. his cock is thick and heavy in your hand—veined and flushed pink at the tip with a bead of pre cum glistening at the slit.
the longer you stroke him, the harder he gets. his shaft twitches with every slow glide of your fist. you give him another teasing squeeze near the base and swirl your thumb over the head, spreading that slick wetness across his sensitive tip.
“you’re basically still tutoring me about anatomy.”
he lets out a broken groan, half amused and half plead as he bucks up into your hand. “fuck—“
it’s hard to think about anything except the pleasure you’re giving him, but jay manages. “your.. grades,” he stutters, breath hitching as you squeeze.
you look up at him through your lashes, still teasing the head. “my grades?” you echo. “i thought we were focusing on anatomy right now, professor.”
”we are,” he grits out, voice strained as you continue to stroke him. “but—fuck—you’re still failing.” your hand moves faster and he lets out a low moan. “even now.. you need more work.”
you smirk, shifting your grip slightly to squeeze harder at the base before sliding up with slow pressure.
”i guess i should keep coming for extra sessions,” you murmur. “wouldn’t want my grade to slip even further.. jay.”
the way you say his name, soft and sharp, is his final straw.
his hips jerk forward uncontrollably and a whimper rips from his chest. hot ropes of his release shoot onto your sternum, sliding down to your cleavage.
you bring two fingers down between your breasts, tracing a slow trail and bring your fingers to your mouth. the salty sweet taste on your tongue is savory.
“yn..” jay’s dick hardens again at the sight.
you watch the effect you have on him. watching the way his sensitive cock twitches and thickens again against his stomach, still glistening with your saliva.
”you’re definitely passing my class now,” he reaches out to grip your waist, yanking you into his lap as his mouth captures your in an impatient kiss.