Chapter Text
It started by accident.
Sort of.
Minho was swiping lazily through yet another dating app. The usual mix: pixelated gym bros, economics majors who wanted threesomes, guys who listed height, weight, and dick size before hobbies. He wasn’t in the market for anything real. Just a little distraction, a little tension to pull taut behind his ribs while finals loomed.
Until one photo made him pause.
A faceless mirror selfie. Tastefully cropped at the neck. Toned, lean abs and sharp hipbones in low-slung joggers. But it was the tattoo that snagged him—just a sliver of ink high on the right side of the chest.
“Blessed,” in narrow cursive, half-visible beneath a white tank that dipped lower on one side.
Minho stilled.
Because he'd seen that tattoo before.
Because Professor Han Jisung, who taught Advanced Psychology of Human Sexuality, sometimes leaned forward during lectures in fitted dress shirts—just enough to let the Blessed tattoo peek out from the right collar.
Minho bit back a grin.
He could’ve stopped there. Could’ve screenshotted and sent it to Hyunjin with a “dude look who’s thirst trapping,” but he didn’t.
Instead, he made a new profile.
And then he messaged him.
[App Chat: “Jay1” and “lmh00”]
Lmh00:
that ink on your chest
right side
"blessed", huh?
blessed how, exactly?
Jay1:
you’re direct
Lmh00:
you’re not denying it.
Jay1:
I don’t give out my name or face for a reason
Lmh00:
good.
makes it easier to imagine you with your mouth open and no excuses
Jisung leaned back in his chair, breath caught somewhere between a scoff and a moan. It had started as a joke—he only made the account after too much soju and a bet with Changbin. “You’re hot enough to land a date in twenty-four hours,” he’d said.
Jisung hadn’t expected this.
Anonymous. Filthy. A faceless boy with venom in his fingers and a tongue that turned conversation into foreplay. He should’ve blocked him.
Instead, he waited for the next message. Craved it.
Lmh00:
can I guess how you look when you come?
bet you shudder and get quiet
bet you cover your mouth
like you’re ashamed of how loud you are when you break
Jay1:
fuck
Lmh00:
that what you said last night?
hand wrapped around your cock, thinking about my voice?
you want more?
say please.
Minho rolled onto his stomach, pleased.
He didn’t need confirmation. He already knew.
He recognized the tattoo. The build. The slightly awkward syntax that matched how Han sometimes overexplained during lectures. The timing. The location.
But most of all—
The thrill came from knowing Han Jisung had no idea who he was.
He didn’t flirt like this in class. He didn’t stand out. Just one quiet student among many, who stayed after sometimes to ask theoretical questions that made Han furrow his brows and smile.
But this?
This was psychological warfare disguised as sexting.
And he was winning.
Jay1:
You keep making me want things I shouldn’t
Lmh00:
good.
I want you ruined with guilt
and still begging for more
Jay1:
You don’t even know me
Lmh00:
but I know what you need
you want control taken from you
you want to forget you’re in charge
you want to be someone’s secret shame
Jay1:
…
Lmh00:
I’ll be your sin.
All you have to do is ask.
The words made his cock twitch.
Jisung ran a hand over his face, heart hammering. He still didn’t know the boy’s name—lmh00 gave nothing away. Not his face, not his age, not his identity. But he was articulate. Dangerous. Unrelenting.
And Jisung was hooked.
He answered messages between classes.
Snuck off to read replies in bathroom stalls.
Fantasized about it while grading papers.
Jay1:
I want to meet
Lmh00:
mm
you’re not ready yet
Jay1:
don’t tell me what I’m ready for
Lmh00:
you’d come the second I touched your wrist
you’d fall apart if I whispered in your ear
Jay1:
you’re very confident for someone hiding behind a username
Lmh00:
I don’t need a name
I already know yours
Jay1:
what?
Lmh00:
relax
Jay1:
that’s not something you just say and then tell someone to relax
Lmh00:
if I wanted to scare you
I would have done it differently
Jay1:
…
Lmh00:
I just think it’s cute
how you pretend this is anonymous
Jay1:
are you saying we’ve met?
Lmh00:
I’m saying
you’re even prettier when you’re flustered
Jay1:
this isn’t funny
Lmh00:
I’m not laughing
Jay1:
who are you
Lmh00:
someone who pays attention
Jay1:
that doesn’t answer the question
Lmh00:
it’s not supposed to
Jay1:
…
Lmh00:
you’d stop being professor Han
and just be mine
Minho smiled as he walked past the psych building.
He could picture Han Jisung up there—flushed cheeks, shirt a little wrinkled, trying not to touch himself.
He’d let him suffer a little longer.
After all, you don’t reveal your cards too soon.
Not when the professor is this close to begging.
And not when the real fun hadn’t even started yet.