HER PROFESSOR STEPBROTHER PT.3

LET'S CONTINUE FROM WHERE I LEFT.....

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AUTHOR'S POV

The room was still heavy with the lingering electricity of their first kiss. The faint scent of coffee and paper filled the air, mixing with something warmer—something that felt like it came from the both of them.

YN’s heart was pounding so hard she was sure Hoseok could hear it. Her fingers itched, her lips still tingled, and her breath… it hadn’t quite returned to normal. She watched him, really watched him—how his chest rose and fell faster than usual, how his dark eyes wouldn’t quite meet hers yet, as though he was processing what just happened.

He was sitting beside her, his white shirt sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows, revealing the veins on his forearms. His tie was loosened, his hair a little messier than when they started studying—probably because he kept running a hand through it when he explained difficult concepts. YN had changed into something casual before the lesson: a soft lavender sweater that hugged her gently, paired with a black pleated skirt that brushed just above her knees, and white socks. Her hair was tied in a half-up style, loose strands framing her face.

She bit her lip. The rational part of her screamed to leave it there, to pretend the kiss never happened. But the other part—the louder part—wanted more. Needed more.

Her hand moved before she even thought about it. She reached for his wrist, her fingers warm against his skin, and tugged him toward her.

Hoseok’s head snapped up, startled, but the look in her eyes stopped him from saying anything.

YN leaned in again, slow but deliberate. She saw the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed, the way his gaze dropped to her lips, and in the next moment, their mouths met.

This kiss was different. The first one had been hesitant, almost shy, testing the waters. But this—this had hunger.

Her fingers found the edge of his shirt sleeve, clutching the fabric, while his hand hovered just above her waist, trembling slightly before finally resting there. His touch burned through the thin fabric of her sweater.

When they finally broke apart, their breaths mingled in the small space between them. Hoseok’s voice was low, almost rough, as if the words had been caged inside him for too long.

“Be my girlfriend,” he said.

YN blinked, her mind trying to process the weight of what he’d just said.

“I don’t care,” Hoseok continued, his eyes locking onto hers with a raw intensity. “I don’t care if you’re my student. I don’t care if you’re… my step-sister.” His fingers tightened slightly on her waist. “I want you. Not like a professor wants a student. Not like a brother wants a sister. I want you like a man wants a woman.”

Her breath caught in her throat. She could see it in his face—this wasn’t just a moment of weakness for him. He meant every single word.

YN’s lips parted, but no words came out. All she could do was feel—the heat in her cheeks, the pull in her chest, and the dangerous thrill of knowing she wanted him too.

---

Hoseok’s breath was still warm on her lips when he whispered, voice low and rough, “Be my girlfriend… I don’t care what relation we have. I want you… like a man wants a woman.”

For a heartbeat, YN just stared into his eyes — those deep, unreadable eyes that had been her safe place and her undoing all at once. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, the soft hum of the ceiling fan above the only sound between them.

“Yes,” she finally breathed out. The single word felt heavy, dangerous, and perfect all at once.

His gaze flickered — shock, relief, and desire mingling — before he cupped her face again, pulling her into a kiss that was far more urgent than the first.

His lips moved against hers with a hunger that had been restrained for far too long. YN’s hands slid up his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under her palm, and she melted against him.

When they finally pulled away, YN’s cheeks were flushed, her lips slightly swollen. She smiled shyly before speaking, her tone carrying a playful seriousness.

“Hoseok…” she began, tracing the edge of his shirt collar with her fingertip. “You should know something about me.”

He tilted his head, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “What is it?”

“I can be…” she paused, biting her lip, “…a little possessive sometimes. And I get jealous… easily. And stubborn — very stubborn.” She looked up at him, her gaze searching his. “So… can you handle me?”

For a moment, Hoseok just stared at her — and then, with a slow smirk, he leaned closer, his lips almost brushing hers again.

“I can handle you, YN,” he murmured, his thumb stroking her jawline. “In fact… I want all of that. Every stubborn, jealous, possessive part of you. Because it means you’re mine.”

Her heart skipped, and before she could reply, he claimed her lips again, sealing the promise with another slow, deliberate kiss that left her dizzy.

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TIME SKIPS

The afternoon sunlight filtered through the classroom windows, casting golden stripes over the rows of wooden desks. Professor Jung Hoseok stood at the front, his voice steady and low as he explained the finer points of the lesson, marker in hand. He wore a crisp white button-up with the sleeves rolled just enough to show the veins on his forearms, paired with dark grey trousers that fit him a little too well.

YN barely heard a word. Her chin rested lightly on her palm, her eyes locked on him—not like a student listening to her professor, but like a woman who wanted to close the distance, strip away that formal tone, and see the man beneath it.

Her gaze was unapologetic, hungry in a way she couldn’t mask. If someone else looked close enough, they might have seen the corners of her lips tilt into a faint smirk. Hoseok, catching the weight of her stare, paused mid-sentence and met her eyes. The corner of his mouth twitched in the smallest of reactions, though he didn’t break his calm demeanor.

He turned to the board, finishing the explanation, before announcing,

“Alright, everyone, I want you to write a short piece on today’s topic. Ten minutes.”

Chairs shuffled. Pens scratched. Hoseok walked between the rows, scanning papers, occasionally leaning down to answer a question. When he reached YN’s desk, he didn’t glance at her work. Instead, he sat casually on the empty chair beside her, leaning forward just slightly—close enough for her to catch the faint scent of his cologne.

His hand rested on the desk, his fingers brushing hers almost imperceptibly. And then, without looking at her directly, his lips tilted toward her ear.

His voice was low—dangerously low.

“Come to my office after class.”

For a second, YN’s pen stopped moving. A rush of heat crawled up her neck, but she didn’t turn toward him. Instead, she simply murmured, “Yes, Professor,” her tone carrying more layers than any student-teacher conversation should have.

Hoseok straightened, leaving her desk without another word, but the air between them remained charged.

---

The afternoon sun had shifted, casting long golden streaks through the hallway windows as the last bell echoed faintly in the distance. The chatter of students drifted away one group at a time, and YN gathered her books slowly, trying to ignore how fast her heart was beating.

She knew where she was going.

Hoseok’s words from earlier still lingered in her mind — that low, deliberate whisper in the middle of class, meant only for her.

“Come to my office after class.”

She tried to play it cool, walking with measured steps toward the faculty wing, but the truth was her stomach was tight with anticipation… and something else.

Her heels clicked softly against the tiled floor until she reached the corner near his office. She was just about to step forward when movement caught her eye.

A tall woman with sleek hair and a perfectly fitted skirt was walking ahead of her — Ms. Hana.

YN’s brows furrowed the moment she recognized her. That female professor was infamous for her overly sweet smiles and lingering touches whenever Hoseok was around. She never missed a chance to laugh at his jokes — and not the innocent kind of laugh.

What made YN’s blood run just a little hotter was what happened next.

Ms. Hana didn’t even pause outside Hoseok’s door. No knock. No hesitation. She simply pushed it open and walked in like she owned the place.

YN stopped mid-step, her hand curling into a fist at her side. Her jaw clenched as her mind began to wander to places she didn’t like — imagining Hana leaning on Hoseok’s desk, tilting her head, maybe trying to touch him.

No.

Her nails pressed into her palm as she stayed hidden around the corner, forcing herself to wait. Minutes felt like hours, and she could hear the faint muffled sound of Hana’s voice inside. Though she couldn’t catch the words, she didn’t like the playful tone.

Finally, the door opened.

Ms. Hana emerged, smiling in a way that made YN’s stomach twist. She walked past without a glance, her perfume trailing behind her like she was marking territory.

YN didn’t wait another second.

Her hand gripped the doorknob, and she pushed it open without knocking. She stepped inside, shutting the door behind her with a soft but deliberate click.

Hoseok looked up from his desk, his brows lifting slightly at her sudden entrance. There was no surprise in his eyes though — only that slow, knowing smile that made her pulse jump.

But YN didn’t smile back.

She walked toward him, every step steady, her gaze fixed on him like she was making it very clear she wasn’t in the mood to share.

---

Hoseok was still seated in his chair, a pen in hand, scanning over a stack of graded assignments. He looked up at her with that calm, unreadable gaze of his.

She didn’t waste a second. With deliberate steps, YN walked up to him, her bag slipping from her shoulder to the floor with a soft thud.

Hoseok’s brows lifted slightly.

“Lock the door,” he murmured without looking away from her.

She reached back, turned the lock, and then—without a word—moved straight to him. Her hands rested on the armrests of his chair as she leaned in, her pout deep and accusing.

Before he could say anything else, she swung her leg over and settled herself on his lap, straddling him. His eyes widened just a fraction at her sudden boldness, but the corner of his mouth twitched like he was trying to hide a smile.

“What,” he asked in a low voice, “are you doing?”

YN narrowed her eyes, her pout still in place. “You tell me first… what she was doing here.” Her tone was soft but laced with unmistakable jealousy.

Hoseok tilted his head back against the chair, studying her. “Ms. Hana?” he asked casually, as though the answer was obvious.

“Yes, Ms. Hana,” she said sharply, her fingers curling against his shoulders.

“The one who just walked in here without knocking, smiling like she owns the place.”

He chuckled under his breath, resting his hands lightly at her waist. “She came to ask about next week’s faculty meeting.”

YN wasn’t convinced. She leaned forward, so close their noses nearly brushed. “You didn’t see the way she was looking at you. I did.”

Hoseok’s voice dropped even lower, a hint of teasing slipping through. “Are you… jealous?”

Her pout deepened. “Yes. I am. And I don’t like sharing.”

One of his hands slid up her back, pulling her just a bit closer. “You don’t have to share, YN.” His eyes softened in that way that always made her feel like she was the only person in the world.

Still, she stayed in her stubborn posture, refusing to let her guard down too quickly. “Good,” she whispered.

“Because I can be possessive. And stubborn. And I don’t care if you think that’s too much to handle.”

Hoseok’s lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. “I can handle it,” he murmured, leaning in until his lips brushed the shell of her ear. “In fact, I want all of it.”

Her heart skipped, and for a moment, she forgot why she’d come here with a pout in the first place.

---

The next day, Hoseok had decided—today, she wouldn’t just be his student, or his secret.

Today, she’d be his girl, in every way possible.

He spent the morning preparing for it. His apartment was spotless, warm light spilling across the wooden floors. The faint aroma of garlic butter and fresh herbs filled the air, the sound of a simmering pot a low hum in the background.

He stood in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, a loose white T-shirt hanging comfortably on him, grey sweatpants resting low on his hips. His hair was slightly tousled from running his hands through it too many times while cooking.

The table was set—two plates, candles, and her favorite dishes lined neatly. Creamy mushroom pasta, crispy fried chicken, and a small plate of chocolate-covered strawberries he had carefully dipped himself.

When YN arrived, she looked curious, almost suspicious.

“Why does it smell like heaven in here?” she asked, dropping her bag by the couch.

Hoseok only smiled, pulling her closer by the waist.

“For you,” he murmured, placing a soft kiss on her forehead. “I figured my girlfriend deserved a little pampering.”

She blinked at the word girlfriend, her lips curving into a slow smile. “Mmm… I could get used to this.”

“You’d better,” he teased before pulling her towards the dining table.

Throughout dinner, Hoseok kept leaning forward, tucking strands of hair behind her ear, feeding her bites from his own fork. When she tried to feed herself, he’d shake his head and hold out another bite, just to watch her blush.

After they were done eating, she leaned back in her chair, a satisfied sigh escaping her lips. “Okay… this was perfect.”

“Oh, I’m not done yet,” he whispered, standing up and pulling her to her feet.

Before she could ask what he meant, Hoseok wrapped his arms around her from behind, peppering her neck and cheek with slow, lingering kisses. His lips traced her jawline, brushing lightly over her skin until she giggled softly.

“Hobi…” she murmured, tilting her head slightly to give him more access.

“Shh,” he breathed, pressing another kiss to the corner of her mouth. “I’m spoiling you tonight. No protests.”

By the time they moved to the couch, she was curled up in his lap, his hands rubbing slow circles on her back while he continued placing gentle, unhurried kisses along her temple, cheek, and lips.

“This is dangerous,” she said, smiling against his mouth.

Hoseok grinned. “No. This is ours.”

---

Hoseok was about to pull her into his arms for another round of pampering kisses, the sharp sound of the doorbell broke the quiet.

They exchanged a quick look—one that screamed we weren’t expecting anyone. Hoseok sighed and got up to answer it, but as soon as he opened the door, YN froze in her seat.

Her parents were standing there.

“Mom… Dad?” she blurted out, trying to sound casual as she quickly straightened her clothes.

Hoseok greeted them politely, his tone calm as if nothing was out of the ordinary. “Come in,” he said warmly, stepping aside.

As they entered, YN and Hoseok slipped seamlessly into thei, ‘brother-sister'mode, sitting across from each other at the table with a notebook between them.

“So… you two were studying?” her mom asked, raising a brow.

“Yes, Hoseok  was explaining an assignment to me,” YN said quickly, glancing at him, and he gave her a small smirk that her parents luckily missed.

Her father cleared his throat. “Actually, YN… me and your mom wanted to talk to you about something.”

She tilted her head. “What is it?”

Her father’s expression softened. “We want you to celebrate your birthday this year. It’s been too long since you’ve done it. You’ve been avoiding it since… well, you know.”

YN immediately shook her head. “Dad… I really don’t want to celebrate. Please, just let it go.”

But before her father could respond, Hoseok leaned forward, his voice low but persuasive. “I think you should. I’ll be really happy if you do.”

She looked at him, eyes narrowing slightly. “Hobi…”

“Please,” he added with that gentle but firm tone that made her heart give in too easily.

There was a long pause before she finally sighed in defeat. “Fine. But—” she lifted a finger—“it’s going to be only us. No big party, no crowd, no unnecessary people.”

Her dad chuckled. “Alright, only us. But at least let us make it special.”

Hoseok’s smile widened in victory, and YN knew she was going to regret giving in… but she also knew, deep down, that celebrating with him might actually feel nice.

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STAY TUNE FOR PART 4 OF THIS.....