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gotham-daydreams · 7 months

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i just had a thought

you know what would really fuck up the batfam in the "not tonight" series imagine the reader instead of leaving gets kidnnaped and when the batfam saves them reader breaks down into crying in relief because they genuenly believed the batfam would not bother to save them

Imagine the absolute horror the batman would feel

I know its a little farfetched but i live for the angst

No, no! I love that idea!!! And it isn't all that farfetched seeing as the reader is a well known musician on some level, and even if that wasn't the case- they're still the kid of Bruce Wayne. Which, honestly, is enough motivation for someone to kidnap them, I'd say. Especially if the reasoning is for money, revenge/jealousy, or both honestly.

Besides all that, though- oh my god that would be awful! I love it!

Because imagine things from the reader's perspective (which, there is implied violence inflicted on the reader, mentions a blood, and a gun is pointed towards them. So, if it isn't your cup of tea then that's fine!):

Your 'family' that barely acknowledges you enough as it is, and the only guy who ever seems to notice that you're around is the single butler that basically takes care of everyone and everything in the manor. Now, you're kidnapped because of your relation/connection to the family, and have no hope to do anything besides just pray.

Maybe you have tried to escape before a few times at this point, but the punishment for such attempts have now gotten to the point where if you try again and fail, you'd surely die. Maybe you've also been trying so hard to escape yourself because you're just that certain and sure that the Batfam won't save you. Since, up until this point, anything dealing with or connecting back to you in some way has been ignored or dismissed one way or another. Why would something like a kidnapping be any different? Especially when they also haven't noticed other events where you have gotten hurt before.

Right from the gate, you're already thinking that the Batfam won't save you. Not that they can't, but just like with everything else- something will come up and steal away their attention, and you'll be left by yourself, and to defend yourself as always. That's what always seems to happen, and so why would now be different? In your mind, it wouldn't. So that's why when your attempts to escape fail, and the punishments not only get worse, but begin to pile up and reach a point where you think you're going to die- the situation quickly becomes much scarier.

You don't hope that Batman will suddenly show up, and instead pray that your best friend will notice your missing somehow. You don't think that Nightwing, Red Robin, Spoiler, or Orphan will suddenly swoop in and save the day, but instead try and hope that your producer/boss notices that you haven't replied to his calls or texts and contacts someone. You don't even consider that Red Hood or Robin will come barreling in and quickly deal with your kidnappers before rescuing you — instead all of your thoughts are filled with silent whispers and desperate pleas that someone- anyone you know will notice that you're gone, or that something is wrong, and will contact somebody. With that 'somebody' being the police or anyone of help, but not the Batfam.

Maybe a small thought does slip by, but you can only internally laugh at yourself because you either think that you've already lost enough blood to actually try and believe that lie, or your just growing that desperate to have a little hope. To have something to cling onto in this moment, that you chose the one thing that you're so convinced will never be given to you. A thought that only further cements itself in your mind the more time passes. With hours turning into days, and days to weeks.

Perhaps that's why you try to escape again. Deciding that you had better odds of succeeding despite your injuries, than the Batfam ever coming to save you. Let alone even thinking about it, or even realizing that you were gone in the first place. Taking that risk of getting caught again, and potentially getting killed this time, because no matter how hopeless or unlikely it seems for you to escape and make it out- those chances will always be higher than any single person from the Batfam showing up, and even attempting to save you. Even on accident, or on a whim- that possibility is so unlikely in your mind, that it's basically nothing more than a made up scenario or daydream to you. It's not an 'if' or 'when', but a flat out 'won't'.

Maybe that's why when you fail you get so scared, but can't help but feel like this was inevitable somehow. Of course, you don't want to die- but you had tried your best. You fought until the very end, and it almost feels a little too fitting that things ended up this way. With your efforts ending in vain, and you having nothing to show for it. With your attempts futile, and almost seeming idiotic from an outsider's point of view, and maybe it was.

You never stood a chance. You were doomed for failure. Not even all the training and experience you had could save you- and only now could you see how truly worthless all your efforts had been. With a gun pointed to your head, and your own blood providing the only warmth you've felt in days.

There's an odd sense of comfort and familiarity in the chill that shoots down your spine, and the cold gaze that one of your kidnappers give you. They're carelessness and disregard for your health reminding you of something, with their rough attacks and harsh punches bringing back times where you really did need the Batfam, only for no one to show up. Your call dying down as fast as it had risen that day, and one you never even bothered to make again.

So maybe that was why you were so surprised when help arrived, and even more so when you saw who exactly it was.

Before you could even fully register anything, you began to cry. A wide smile full of disbelief grows on your face, and more tears begin to fall as the smallest of laughs escape you. 'Unbelievable' is the first word that comes to mind when describing what you felt, and thought when you saw Batman drop down from the ceiling and deal with the guy who was about to kill you, and heard some commotion just down the hall.

At first, your convinced it's all some silly dream, and that maybe during your final moments- your mind decided to give you something nice to send you off. Almost like a warm parting gift to distract you from the hopelessness, and reality of the situation. Though it's only when pain shoots through your entire body when you move a certain way, that the thought of all of this being some made up hallucination or delusion vanishes, and you can't help but cry harder.

You don't know if it's a good or bad thing that after all this time- the one time they actually notice that you're gone, is when you not only get kidnapped, but can't escape by yourself. That the one time they acknowledge you, you're almost dead, bleeding out, and the most messy and vulnerable you've ever been.

Maybe life really did have some grudge against you to go to such lengths to fuck you over, but right now you're too relieved to be saved to care at the moment.

Yet, to say the Batfam feels awful on a totally new level, is an understatement. They understand feeling relieved, but to this extent? It's like you never expected them to come and save you at all... and that little thought seems to be true when one of them tries to help you out, and you're still laughing weakly as you continue to cry. Asking through a broken, wavering voice if all of this is real, and isn't some fucked up hallucination your having to make passing on easier. That they really showed up, and as a last ditch effort to not make your death anymore painful then it has to be- this isn't just some... dream, to make you feel like you were actually cared for in your final moments.

It breaks their hearts, a lot.

Especially when you repeat questions, as if trying to really make sure that they're there, that they're real, and aren't just some figment of your imagination. That they actually came to save you, and weren't off saving Gotham or the world itself instead. Constantly trying to be sure, as if the moment you weren't- then you'd be convinced that you were slowly dying all alone, with no hope of help coming — not even thinking that the Batfam would come — and just have to sit with that fact as you take your final breaths.

The pain you feel is almost equal to their's, and what really worries and scares most of them is how sure and certain you are that they wouldn't show up. That either the thought would never cross their minds, or that something else would come up and they'd leave you for dead, or that they just wouldn't notice that you were kidnapped at all.

Which, said fright and worry is only amplified when you have to keep asking "Are you really here? Are you sure?" And the like, and they have to keep finding ways to prove to you that yes, they are here. They're helping you, and they're not leaving- they actually managed to save you, and that you're going be okay now. That they aren't going away, and are very, very real.

Each little, broken laugh chips away at the pieces of their hearts, and your own disbelief that they can't seem to get rid of no matter what they do or say, is just a punch to the gut. You didn't just think that they wouldn't show up, but were fully convinced that they wouldn't even bother with it. That own realization just... hurts more than anything.

Had they really been that awful to you? Had they really caused you so much pain and hurt that you'd not only think of such a thing, but fully believe it? They didn't remember doing anything in particular that would cause you to think that way... but maybe that wasn't the problem. It wasn't what they did to you, but rather what they didn't do, and that's when the pieces finally begin to click.

Of course some don't want to believe it, similar to how some of them in "Not Here" express a brief moment of denial and disbelief themself, but they don't get to experience such a luxury anymore. Not with you here- bleeding, hurt, and crying from both relief and disbelief, because you couldn't believe that they actually showed up.

Even when they do quickly take you to a hospital and get you treated, that image of you is still ingrained into their minds. They can't forget it- how you looked at them and spoke, and just how you treated the whole situation because of how convinced you were.

From here they'll try to rebuild what they can, and all definitely be 100% more protective then they've ever been. The moment you're able to come home (which, you ARE coming home. No if's or but's. You don't get a chance this time.), they're doing everything in their power to not only 'fix' everything, but make sure that you are safe at all possible moments of the day.

It's safe to say that the whole experience traumatized the whole family to a certain degree. Not only with you being kidnapped- but you trying to escape multiple times and almost dying, because you were so convinced that no one would show up to help. (Which, while it was also because you can genuinely handle yourself and did believe you could escape on your own, the Batfam doesn't entirely believe that (and you almost dying doesn't help with that) so they chalk it up to you being desperate, because you 'knew' that no one was coming to save you. Which also may or may not make certain people worse in the process.) So they're already leaning pretty heavy on the yandere tendencies. Which most likely develop over the time you're in the hospital, and into your first week or so staying in the Manor.

Which does lead us to your little addition:

Which, you are very correct!!!

Our boy Jason, put in very simple terms, doesn't take the situation well. At all.

Seeing you bloodied, bruised, abused, malnourished, and on the brink of death no less- definitely doesn't help with his reaction at all.

Don't get me wrong! All of them react pretty negatively to the situation, and many of them have very strong reactions- Jason in particular just has the worst and strongest one. :]

The moment he sees you, he's immediately reminded of his death. The urge to comfort you is strong, but he just doesn't know what to do- and so he ends up not doing anything until you're in the hospital. Which, leading up to that point, he's checking your pulse as often as he can.

He knows what it's like to be hopeless, and feel that helpless- but to know that you experienced that? To know that you almost died like he did? It ruins him. It fucks him up more than anything else.

From the way you looked at the Batfam- the way you looked at him, and just how utterly relieved you were, despite drowning in your own disbelief- it haunts him. The state they found you in messed him up enough, but all of your questions, and just how you were even trying to reassure yourself that them showing up and saving you was real, fucked him up big time.

Before he knows it, he's hunting down the people who kidnapped you, and wiping out whatever is left of their bloodlines. Not sparing a single person, as they didn't spare you- with their generations leading to your kidnappers being born.

He's making their final moments just as painful as yours would've been. Their agony almost matching his, as he couldn't forget the night they saved you. He refused to. That moment forever engraved into his mind, reminding him of what also was if they were a second too late, and how it made him realize just how much he's fucked up along with everyone else.

While Jason can't exactly just waltz into the Hospital to visit you, since he is still considered dead and everything, he sneaks into your room instead. Trying to give what comfort he can in his own silent, but close way. Holding your hand with a gentleness even foreign to himself, and saying how he's sorry and that he'll make it up to you. Promising every night that he'll make those that made you suffer pay with their lives, and then some. Saying how he won't leave your side ever again, only to be gone by the morning.

He brings what he can as well. Even if it isn't as showy or extravagant as any of the things that Bruce, Damian, Dick and so on are getting you, or as pretty and lively as the flowers that are placed by your bedside. It's just his own little way of trying to make it up to you.

The small, little gifts he gives you are indeed little, and he doesn't give much since he doesn't think that your forgiveness or love can be bought. But he still tries to give something. So he'll give things that can be as little as hair ties or bracelets, to earrings (that totally aren't matching) and a little music box that reminded him of the melodies you've made thus far. It's all just another way of saying that he cares about you, and not only wants to build your relationship but be connected to you somehow.

The earrings, even if you don't wear them but just have them, make him feel closer to you then he can. He hopes that in some little way, that whenever you wind and let that music box play its tune, that you are reminded of him or think of him in some way. That when you wear or even look at the few ties and bracelets he's given you, he comes to mind in some small way, and manages to bring the smallest of smiles on your face.

Jason doesn't yearn to be remembered or seen fondly, but he would like to and deeply appreciate it. Since when he looks at his earnings, he's reminded of you, and the pair he managed to give you. Leaving him unable to fight back the smile that grows on his face.

For the most part, he just generally tries to be more present, hardly leaving you alone unless he has to, and spending every moment he can by your side. Moments that begin to last longer once he finishes his buisness with your kidnappers, and their families. He doesn't push too hard or is super in your face and constantly invading your personal space. He just exists in your presence, and as long as you're around he's got no complaints.

Though he does get extremely protective and possessive. Especially if your sleeping or something, and someone walks in. God have mercy if they need to wake you up, and dare to try without saying anything to Jason first.

Which- all of this boils down to you getting scary dog privileges every night, which turns into an almost 24/7 type of deal when you get discharged from the hospital.

---

Sorry if this is a little all over the place. I wrote it all in one go for the most part and haven't really looked it over, so there's probably some mistakes I didn't catch and missed 😅

Still, I hope that's alright, and as you can see- i really enjoy this idea :]

#talking daydreams #yandere batfam #platonic yandere batfam #gn reader #platonic yandere #yandere dc #yandere batfam x reader #yandere jason todd

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willowser · 6 days

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i keep thinking about touya going to the same spot he and his ex do drop off, every two weeks. it's outside some little bakery that he thinks is too expensive—and he has a sneaking suspicion that's why his baby mama chose the place—but he always buys his little bug something regardless. a pink pastry with lots of sprinkles and frosting, in the shape of a unicorn or something or other.

and you always come with him. have been for a few years now and you make friendly small talk with his ex and when his daughter jumps into your arms, you swing her around and you both giggle to each other, foreheads pressed together, eyelashes blinking close enough to make his heart swell.

and the first time you're not there, his daughter doesn't wait a minute after jumping out of her mom's car to frown up at him and ask, "where's bub?"

and truthfully, touya's been dreading this moment since he'd pissed you off enough to have you storming out of his apartment, a few days ago. still doesn't know what to tell her, how to explain that he's never loved someone the way he loves you and yet he's sabotaging everything anyway.

"bub is at bub's house."

her light little eyebrows pull down ever further, until a crease forms between them, and then she even takes another look behind him in case he's joking. "why?"

touya grinds his gum between his teeth and tells himself it's better than a cigarette. "she just is."

his ex doesn't say anything, thank god, but he can feel the once over she gives him. he looks like shit and he knows it, because he's aggravated and disappointed in himself, and all the things he'd normally use to deal with those feelings would break his sobriety. so he's only got some spearmint gum.

his daughter doesn't say anything else until they're in their seats on the train, her by the window, drawing shapes in the fog her breath makes. they go through a tunnel and the light from the day disappears and she loses interest, turning to stare up at touya as he closes his eyes and leans his head back as far as it can go.

"are you and bub mad at each other?"

touya opens his eyes, but stares only at the ceiling of the train. all he can see is the hurt on your face when he'd yelled at you, the anger that he drew out, like a poison. "it's—" one thing he tries not to do to his kid, however, is lie. "somethin' like that."

she shuffles around in her seat until she's facing him fully, leaning her head against the back of it as she blinks her big, blue eyes up at him. "did she be mean to you?"

"no."

"did you be mean to her?"

it seems so complicated, when touya thinks about it. why he'd started a fight with you, where his insecurity comes from, why he wants you so bad but is too afraid to admit it out loud—but then his kid makes it seem so easy. so silly.

touya shuffles until he's facing her, too, and even scoots down in his chair so they're eye-level, almost like whispering school girls at a slumber party. "yeah," he admits. "i was kinda mean to her."

"but why?"

touya frowns and still doesn't know what to say. the city skyline opens up behind her, out in the distance, and he watches the setting sun over the buildings until it starts to make him sick. "you remember when you had that scooter, and you fell and scraped your knee?" she nods. "and then you didn't want to ride it anymore because you were afraid you'd do it again? it's...like that."

not a single look of understanding comes across her face.

touya sighs and scoots back upright, bending to dig his phone from his pocket. "you wanna talk to her?"

"yeah!"

he pulls up your contact in his phone—just your name and all the hearts removed, because he's petty like that—but instead of staring at it like he has been for days—he finally calls. it wouldn't surprise him if you didn't answer, but he gnaws his lip as it rings, and it seems like he and his little girl both hold their breath.

"hello?"

when he hands off the phone to his daughter, she happily snatches it up, turning on her knees to look out the window as she grins. "hi bub!"

and touya still doesn't know what to say or how he'll fix it, but he finds some comfort—some of the words—when he hears the tone in your voice change, all sing-song and adoring. "hi, my angel!"

#cw children #✿ thoughts: dabi/touya #i've been thinking about this all day #his daughter IMMEDIATELY is like #🤨🤨🤨 uh ???? 🤨🤨🤨#you forgot to bring something dad #LMAO #this is trash garbage but i'm sleepy 😌#✿ theme: dad dabi/touya

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bystarlightlore · 9 months

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lord have mercy jesus christ…the love scene

i can barely write about this scene without tears pouring down my face. it’s beyond intimacy.

frame by frame. magic.

usually all of their touching and tracing is leading somewhere, but in this singular moment, they're just admiring each other. henry is taking his time and alex is leveling all of the air in the room into the most delicate, pointed gaze. there is so much love in that one look. the way henry looks back is so sweet; the most affectionate smile playing at his lips.

alex's breath hitches a bit when henry's hand reaches his heart; and he bursts into the most gorgeous smile.

alex's affinity for bracing his hands against henry's back and waist is beautiful. the way he molds his fingers to every curve of his body. henry going straight for the hair; bracing his grip to the back of alex's neck.

alex never takes his eyes off of henry. not once. he's doing so much with that one look; asking, testing, falling, following. letting henry take the lead. they're saying everything to one another without uttering a single word. in the book, it talks about the tiniest of nods that henry does when they're together, and how alex is the one that notices them and knows what they mean -- i love seeing it here.

this is new for the both of them in different ways. their very own "first time." and you'd think that something this exposed would come with a sense of fear from either of them, but that's not what you find in their eyes. there's wonder, curiosity, love, and even a bit of timidness and caution, but no fear. they're so open and willing with one another. giving all of themselves without hesitation.

& hesitation is a big thing for henry because that's all he's ever done. but here, with his alex, he doesn't have to hold anything back.

their synced exhale, henry's whisper of a smile, the way his teeth graze his bottom lip, licking his lips. alex in absolute awe of him.

the emotional nakedness here is...more intimate than the sex itself. they're both discovering so much about each other in these lines. alex releasing every inhibition and assumption. his words are breathy and loose, like he found it impossible to hold his tongue. like the look in henry's eyes alone is drawing out the very core of his heart. and in this moment, he's realizing that part of his heart is henry now.

& henry. delicate, precious henry. for a boy so filled with passionate, poetic soliloquies, he stripped himself bare with three words. so much about this masterpiece of a boy has to be kept hidden, and this gives everyone around him the ability to make up their preferred versions. he can barely let anyone in.

but here, where for a moment, it's safe, he's letting alex know in just three, life-altering words that alex has all of him. this is everything that he is. and sweet alex takes on every inch, never looking away.

this kiss is where the tears started coming down hard.

the two of them express a very equal amount of love in two stunningly distinct ways. alex's is very pointed, henry's is incredibly rounded. (ill touch on it in another analysis). alex anchors them, henry surrounds them. they literally created their own yin&yang. they crafted their own harmony. it's madness. beautiful, beautiful madness.

you can see alex's pointed focus here in the way he kisses henry. it's direct & unfettered & insatiable. henry's rounder edges are featherlight. his jaw is relaxed, his lips are soft & loose. his eyes are fluttered closed, like he's sleeping.

he's safe enough here to kiss alex softly.

...& that's why i bawled my eyes out.

this got me too.

they're taking their time to trace eachother; learn each other. there's some subconscious part of henry that doesn't feel as secure as he is in this moment, and you can see that in the clutch of his fist.

alex opens it; and he laces them together. it's so easy to get lost in a moment like this, but alex is so intentional and attentive to detail that he takes the time to loosen and anchor every inch of henry. he doesn't leave a single piece of him apprehensive or locked up.

henry’s fingers kneading alex’s shoulder. the way alex runs his hand along henry’s arm & the bend of his waist. alex's grip covering henry's hand as he threads it into his hair. holding it there, keeping them steady. stay.

their touches don’t beg, they take, & the other gives — whatever & however much they’re craving from one another. they want so much of each other. & they have all the time in the world. it’s just them.

they’re both so blissed-out & lost in each other here. there’s nobody else in the world. euphoric in its nature, concrete in its beauty.

the slight tremor in alex’s lower lip, the way his lips gently brush henry's brow. henry’s mouth falling open, eyes flitted closed. it’s all so skin-to-skin. neither of them knows where the other ends and they begin.

the meticulous release in the flex of henry’s hand. he can feel alex, & his feelings for alex in every nerve, every bone, down to the arched tips of his fingers.

it’s tender & gentle & warm & i’m going to bawl my eyes out. help.

#rwrb #rwrb movie #red white and royal blue #alex claremont diaz #prince henry rwrb #taylor zakhar perez #nicholas galitzine #firstprince

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m-ayo-o · 5 months

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Can u do their hard limits for the nsfw🙏🏽 and love ur works🖤

ooh dear xx

jjk men : their hard limits in bed

includes many kinks mentioned or explicitly described !! EXPLICIT 18+ CONTENT

toji ⋆ kento ⋆ satoru ⋆ suguru x sub/switch afab reader

[tw: anal, threesomes, explicit knife play, gun play, pegging, predator prey, explicit cnc, gag, period sex mention, safe word use, explicit somnophilia, breath play mention, pet play, collaring, blindfold, bondage, choking, public toy use, degradation kink, slapping, spit kink, praise, humiliation, tail butt plug use]

Toji

He's filthy. Anything goes with this man. You think of the kinkiest shit you've ever heard? He's done it. Nothing will surprise him. When he was younger, in his twenties, he found himself getting totally obsessed with anal until getting in a girls' cute ass was all he could think of.

He soon found his love for pretty hard kinks- especially when women asked for it. He leaned into that roguish demeanour of his very heavily, and found so many girls who loved it. So much so that he nearly had to give Shiu a bigger cut of his pay just to deal with all the redirected booty calls. But they just ended up sharing a lot of the time anyway. They rarely shared meals and, in fact, their free time was often their own. But when it came to getting laid, especially with girls like you, they couldn't say no.

And later, with his extensive collection of weapons only growing, it only felt natural for him to tease his sweet love with them. When you went all wide eyed and gasped like that, grabbing at his thick and muscular wrist with a long, sharp blade pressed at your throat? His dick got fucking hard and he entered a whole new level of extreme kinks. Next up was his gun; a semi-automatic pistol that he'd use on his targets, then bring home and use to lift up your skirt. Again, it was your beautiful, fearful reaction that made him do it... he couldn't help but slide it between your legs and fuck you with it.

However, something that got his stomach churning in the worst way possible... was your bright idea to peg him. I mean, he said he was up for anything, and he has played around with anal stimulation. Sure, it was fun, but having his sweet girl strap a cock to her body and fuck him with it? It sent a shiver down his spine. He'd still fucking try it though.

Kento

His limit is tough to define. It's the moment that you ask him to do it harder and he does- it's when you tell him to get rough with you and he watches you struggle under him. It's more like an underlying discomfort than a limit. But because he is a patient and mature man, he will talk to you about it and you are given yet another opportunity to fall more in love with him.

The issue is more complex than 'i don't want to hurt you' - because he loves spanking you, he loves tweaking your pretty nipples till they're all sensitive and swollen, and he adores getting his hands on your body; grabbing you, squeezing you. And realistically, he wants to make you happy... he wants to make you feel good. But there's just something so deep in his psyche that tells him 'Kento, you could lose yourself' and he's petrified that one day he's going to take it too far.

For this reason, after your lengthy discussions on the subject, you have agreed that your husband will keep up the rough play as long as he feels comfortable, and that he is not going to engage in breath play anymore. He said his piece, set the boundary and, although you love his big hands around your throat, you understand why it scares him and you respect him wholeheartedly. You finish off this deep conversation with an even deeper love making session- this time keeping it slow and sensual.

Satoru

Consent. Consent and blood.

This man does not need any more blood on his hands. So, unless you're begging him to impregnate you, he may be quite averse to period sex.

He will play around with consent- but like any loving and respectful partner he will need a play by play of what you want him to do to you. He needs to know exactly what's off the cards... and what's on. Especially with his powers thrown into the mix- although he has them fine tuned, it still adds an extra element of danger (which you seem to like very much).

So he will play along with your sick little games of hide and seek that end with him teleporting right behind you and covering your mouth with his hand, with your excited giggles soon turning into screams. He honestly never knew playing with this boundary was so attractive, but when you look up at him with glossy, wet eyes telling him 'Satoru 's too much' or 'n-no I can't take it, wait, please-' it gets his dick so fucking hard it almost hurts. But none of that would be possible without your safe word- or sign if you're gagged (which is rare because he loves hearing your pretty voice even if all you can get out are soft whimpers of how big he feels inside you and that you want him to cum). He's used it a couple of times, and so have you.

But you're learning your limits and coming to understand each other very well, so much so that your use of the word is dwindling because he knows when something is actually too much and when you're just saying it. From the little movements in your body, those microexpressions; he sees every detail. He can feel it all.

And now he's started to enjoy this, you wanted to take it a step further. You were desperate to have him fuck you in your sleep. After you expressly asked him to wake you up with oral one time, he really wanted to try it. And it was so fucking hot he asked you to do the same for him- it's not like he never thought about it before. Waking up to a good dick sucking is any man's dream. But that you'd want to do it? God, he feels so lucky when he wakes up with his cock in your mouth. And the final step, when you fell asleep naked from your previous night's escapades after begging him to do it all again in the morning, he finally got his dick inside you. You were sleeping on your side, facing away from him, and he just edged up and started slowly fucking you open. It took much longer than usual and added to his arousal- he was trying to be patient so as not to wake you. And it worked. When he finally stuffed you full and started moving you woke up and the first noise you made was the most sensual fucking horny moan he's ever heard and he gets addicted.

But if there's ever any feeling in his gut that you're not enjoying what he's doing to you and that you actually want to stop... he will. Even if it's just a doubtful nag in the back of his head- a couple of times he has completely edged you because of the thought. But with your enthusiastic consent (impatient begging) he continues to get you off in whichever way you want.

Suguru

Now your lovely boyfriend Suguru is a real sweetheart. You can tell he'd do absolutely anything for you. Of course, he won't be taken advantage of, he's a smart man. But in the bedroom, if it's for your pleasure, he's in. And that includes your fantasies of having him collared and strapped up to the bed. He'll let you blindfold him, gag him, he likes it when you choke him- especially when he's about to cum, it makes the experience all the more dizzying. He's very open to anal play- he loves it when you use toys on him, vibrators, dildos, love eggs... even in public. But he is not your submissive and he likes to remind you of that, especially with the strength he holds in that muscular body of his. He loves restraining you and overpowering you, especially when you're getting a little too cocky and comfortable on top. He likes to slap your pussy as much as your face and he will spit on your tongue if you beg him for it. He loves being mean and crude to his girl, then suddenly switching to be the softest gentleman you've ever met.

However, with your fantasies getting a little out of control- with buying him a new collar, a lead, the cutest outfits to wear (his slight embarrassment added another level for you)- he became uncomfortable with one certain request. And yes, he'll admit he's been playing along- it's been very enjoyable and stimulating for him- the pleasure has been overwhelming at times. But with your new toy... a certain butt plug with a black fluffy tail attached... he wrinkles up his nose and turns you down. You took it too far. But, the idea comes to him that if you like it so much, why don't you use it? And soon enough he's got you on your knees licking cream off his boots with a collar round your neck and a tail up your ass. You didn't know it vibrated.

hcs | m.list

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 months

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why them??

Whenever we visit a new location, there's an in-game reason given for why it's these specific four characters chosen to go! I was eager to see why Vil had Jamil, Azul, and Ace come along with him to an acclaimed film festival... and I was not disappointed 😂

***Tapis Rouge in the Shaftlands spoilers under the cut!!***

So as it turns out, Vil has been invited to the International Film Festival in Fairest City (a significant location for the entertainment and beauty industries). He’s going to promote a movie he’s in that’s releasing next year.

The original plan was for the Film Research Club to accompany Vil and take the chance to learn more about movie productions. However, the club is in the middle of filming for their own project and a change in weather has led to their shoot next week being cancelled. The filming they would have done next week now has to be done this week, so Vil’s club members cannot go on the trip. (Vil himself still has to attend because he is contractually obligated to.)

The other NRC students start to argue over who Vil should take in his club members’ places. The people vying for spots include:

Cater (because the Fairest City is so trendy and always popular on Magicam)

Azul (many famous brands are sold in Fairest City; he has a financial interest in this research)

Lilia (has visited the city before, but never the film festival)

Jade (the city is close to old mines, which he is interested in)

Ace (he loves the idea of going to a fashionable city and “tasting” the celebrity world)

Rook (a lover of movies and dramas; he is curious about the movie studios)

Floyd, Epel, Deuce, Grim (lol it sounds fun to them; Epel also says he has not traveled a lot so he wants to go this time)

Ruggie (FANCY FOOD)

Jamil (wants to take advantage of Vil’s presence to see behind-the-scenes things they don’t normally show; he usually prepares snacks for when Kalim watches movies at one of three at-home theaters but hasn’t had the time to really appreciate the films for what they are himself)

DKJLBHASILYFAYFVQEFIFQEPI; I love the added detail of Jamil telling the others they're inconveniencing their senpai but then Azul cuts in and implies the behavior is a manipulation tactic to show off to Vil how reliable Jamil can be (thus increasing his odds of going while he still maintains his "humility")... Those two just cannot stop getting at each other's throats, I swear 💀 (In part 2, they continue the pettiness when Ace comments that they’re both quick to tease him together, so do they actually get along? Jamil says no but Azul says yes… and the two of them are STILL bullying each other about their personalities once they get their new outfits. Truly not a dull moment with them…)

BUT THIS IS THE REAL STINGER

So since Vil can only pick 5 people to take with him, he says they'll have to prove that they somehow excel over the others. It's then that Azul cooks up a scheme on the spot and recruits Jamil and Ace for it: a lottery! Azul proposes it, has Jamil pitch in, and has Ace prepare the drawings. THIS WORKS ON MULTIPLE LEVELS BECAUSE:

Azul can present the idea as "random" and "fair". This makes him appear like a kind problem solver not wanting to give anyone, not even himself, a leg up.

It would come off as shady if he gets one of the twins (known to be his henchman) to agree with him... so who does Azul get to back him up? Jamil, someone from another dorm, and someone who was passive aggressive with him earlier. This creates a false illusion that others beyond Azul and his dorm believe in the "fairness" of the lottery.

Ace has deft fingers; he a cut a deck of cards--and he can easily rig a lottery since he's in cahoots with Azul, the guy who suggested it to begin with.

This creates a situation where Azul, Jamil, AND Ace get to go to the event. These bitches are mutually benefitting from being collectively sneaky (According to Ace, Yuu and Grim pulled the remaining two slots by coincidence, so they just happen to be "lucky") 🤡 AND THE FUNNIEST PART OF IT ALL IS THAT VIL SUSPECTED THEY WOULD PULL THIS SHIT, BUT HE LET IT HAPPEN ANYWAY SINCE IT'S TECHNICALLY STILL THEM DEMONSTRATING THEIR TALENTS TO HIM...

Truly, bravo... That deserved a standing ovation, gentlemen 👏

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bixels · 2 months

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Taking the current topic as an excuse to ask you to tell me all the reasons you love Rarijack. Your art for the ship is so sweet and intimate I'd love to hear any in depth thoughts you have.

Breathes in.

I think what makes their dynamic really strong is that they have opposing personalities but aligned values. It's deeper than just "opposites attract." Rarity's fancy, prissy, and femme while Applejack's modest, rough, and "masculine." But both value hard work (to the point of being workaholics), their families (both have guardianship over their little sisters), running successful businesses, and eventually each other. Their relationship can be boiled down to, "Despite our differences/disagreements, I still like you because we value the same things."

We see their relationship develop so much. In the first season, they can't stop bickering about surface-level differences. By season four, they still bicker, but will mend their relationship because they can't help but do nice things for each other. In Trade Ya, they start off arguing over personality differences (Applejack likes old junk and Rarity likes useless crap). Then they pivot and start arguing that they value their relationship more than the other. In the end, they mend things by sacrificing their needs and buying each other a gift. Even if they don't understand it, they know it'd make the other happy. And that's all that really matters. It's a genuinely sweet moment that shows how arguing can be healthy and necessary for relationships to strengthen.

We even see them dropping their hang-ups about each others' personalities. In Made in Manehattan, when Rarity runs off in dramatics about someone's fashion, AJ doesn't roll her eyes or scoff, she smiles. Oftentimes, their conflicts are very common domestic conflicts romantic couples face. Applejack's Day Off is about a woman's inability to balance work and life and find time to properly spend with her partner, causing her partner to feel neglected.

By season seven, they're actively participating in each others' interests. Any problems or conflicts that arise are dealt with, and they come out the other end stronger and closer. In Honest Apple, AJ pretty much spells out why their relationship works so well: even though she doesn't understand fashion, she can recognize and appreciate how much work it takes and wants to respect that. When she realizes her mistake in the episode, AJ goes above and beyond to fix things and apologize to Rarity. They care about each other so much.

The two go out of their way, sacrificing their personal desires and beliefs and doing things they normally wouldn't, to make the other happy. That's just love.

There's Simple Ways, where AJ gets stuck in an unwanted love triangle between Rarity and her hipster crush. And her frustration and anger can be so easily interpreted as AJ finding herself in a terrible position; the girl she loves wants another man, and that man wants her.

I dunno. I've always had a preference for opposites attract ships, but Rarijack's stuck with me like a brain worm because they have the perfect chemistry. The way they show they care, or do things for each other, I've always read it as the truest representation of romance in the show.

#rarijack #i refuse to be embarrased by how much i know about this damn pony show #this is part of the reason why i never bought into appledash unfortunately. their values aren't aligned #rd lies a lot and often for very self serving reasons #and she distances herself from her family because they're. cringe? overbearing? her parents are very loving and supportive #meanwhile aj's. whole fucking thing. is honesty and family #ask me #anon #this is why it's still a little baffling they aren't canon #we got SO much real development with so much potential subtext #and it never really crossed the finish line #i dunno every time they do something to show they care i'm reminded of myself and my partner too #whenever i see something that's inconvenient or complicated or against my personality (adhd haver) but i know it'd make my #boyfriend happy. i do it anyways. and i always think to myself “wow. that's what love is. that's what it feels like”

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xerotiny99 · 2 months

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Antiserum D // Loving Professor Jeong #1

Antiserum D (Loving Professor Jeong series #1) Professor/College au.

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x (f) Reader [ft. Choi San & Song Mingi]

Warning: smut, prof!yunho, dom!yunho, sub!reader, student!reader, age gap, teasing and suggestive actions, size kink, big dick Yunho, dirty talk and pet names (master and pup), blowjob/throat fucking, spanking, rough sex, unprotected sex, edging, creampie and dacryphilia.

Note: do not proceed if you're uncomfortable or triggered by the mentioned tags. Also note the age gap tag, here the reader is 21 and Yunho is 32, which makes it 11 years of gap.

Side Note: this series will contain 'hyung line' as the professors and the 'maknae line' as minor characters; except for Choi San and Song Mingi, these men are cheeky so look out for them. Again, as my other series, 'the reader' does have a name, i.e, Lee Sherri. Nicknames are bound to follow, so don't worry. I only write names in my oneshots because it's too annoying to write [y/n] everywhere and it ruins my flow of writing. Anyway, enjoy!

Gist: you had a rival in college, yes you did. It wasn't a student, rather the person you hold your grudges against is one of your professors. Now, you're in your senior year of bachelor's degree, running late for a morning class—knowing well he takes this class, what do you think the consequences would be?

Word Count: 12,164

'My dog died.'

No, you don't have a pet!

'My bus was late.'

You live on-campus.

'The coffee shop was crowded.'

You don't freaking have a cup in your hand!

'Umm, I overslept.'

Well, he doesn't need to know the truth.

He really doesn't need to know the truth to why you were running late to his morning class. As time would have it, you did oversleep; lethargic from last night's meaningless meandering from bar to bar, in search of your sober soul, you surely had forgotten about your morning class the next day. Weekends are supposed to be lax and diverting. They're your only shot at having a good time with your friends. You weren't going to let your fear of being reprimanded by your 'favourite' professor stop you from having the fun you deserved. The weekdays were long, tedious and dull with all the lectures and practical sessions to attend.

You're sprinting up the stairs to get to your department; the science building is supposedly long and encompasses all other departments falling into it. Your department (zoology), moreover, your class was situated on the second level of the building. Meeting with the long hallway on your way, which apparently was the physics department, you turn a corner and are merged with another long hallway leading to yours. The grotesque stench of formaldehyde hits your nose the moment you walk past the junior laboratories of your department; that's where they were trying to preserve biological specimens, the 'tingle-your-spine' kind. There are lecture halls and laboratories on one side of the long hallway, while the other side was an open space with concrete railings and pillars; this space opened into the botanical garden the botany department had been tending to, so it housed large trees, a decent number of shrubs and flowering plants, including a variety of cactus and other succulents.

Rushing in your steps, holding your tote bag close to you, your eyes scramble past the open space and the garden onto the walking street of your campus; it was borne with trees on both sides, and amidst the thicket of greenery you find the main building of psychology department. You almost heave out a laugh, reminiscing of the last night when your best friend (who studies psychology) was drunk out of his mind and had been making out with a lamppost. You pull yourself out of that daze, increasing the pace of your sprint to get to your laboratory.

First red flag of your day, the doors to your lab were open wide. Second, your supposedly 'favourite' professor was midway through an explanation about the experiment you were going to perform today. And third, you were technically thirty minutes late to the lab.

Quiet on your feet, you try to sneak inside; the structure of your lab was a little different, with sitting desks on one side of it, and workbenches on the other. In retrospect, this was your senior year's class where apparent lectures took place, and the workbenches were designated for less involved experiments. At the very front of your class/lab is a podium, a chalky black board, and a desk for professor. You glance at the front after realising all students had occupied the workbenches, you catch up on the glimpse of Professor Jeong carrying on with his explanation till his eyes meet yours.

"Miss Lee," he grumbles, amidst his explanation, "sneaking in—" mumbling he checks the time on his wristwatch, the sleeve of his coat riding up, "—a total of thirty minutes late. You better have a good reason."

He folds his arms over his chest, and stares down at you. While you halt midstep into the class, standing straighter you clear your throat and feel your mind stutter looking at him. Why did he have to dress so provocatively? And the outfit in concern was his beige coat and matching pants, a white long sleeved turtleneck underneath; you didn't quite like how your heart was palpitating watching him, keenly grazing your thirst-filled eyes across his face, noticing the shine on his black rimmed glasses and the plumpness of his pink lips.

"Miss Lee?" he repeats, only to get you squeaking, "yes, professor—uh yeah, I was late because my alarm did not go off in the morning..."

He hums in contemplation, eyes narrowing on you before he sighs and shakes his head, "occupy one of the workbenches and do not touch anything before I tell you to."

You nod, pressing your lips tighter to prevent any sound from escaping your throat; you were certainly anxious and embarrassed to be late, but more precisely you were humiliated in front of your class for coming up with such a lame excuse. Sighing, you stuff your tote bag in your locker at the back. You quickly slip on a lab coat over your outfit, bubbling with disappointment as it was hiding your nubile outfit. Knowing you were running late, you still made extreme efforts to dress yourself up—the reason was quite overt, because you wanted to dress up for yourself—you wore a white blouse under a pastel blue sweater vest and paired it with grey skirt which rode up till your mid-thighs. The lacy thigh-high socks were just an added accessory to make yourself seem cute considering you also had a blue ribbon in your hair, holding it in a high ponytail.

The only workbench unoccupied is the one situated at the very end and far from either the professor's desk at the back near the lockers and the podium from where Professor Jeong was reading every movement of yours. When you get to your designated place, you glance at the workstation to take note of the apparatus, before glancing next to you, finding the most obnoxious person you could. Choi San, Choi freaking San was offering you a guileful smile, one whose intentions did not appear to be right, or even ethical.

Bastard.

"So, Miss Lee is late because she couldn't hear her alarm go off? Pathetic," he rolls his eyes, folding his arms over his chest, his own lab coat creasing by the elbows with his plaid shirt peeking from beneath. "I don't believe you—oh well, but I wonder what your favourite professor would think about you when he knows you were getting pissed drunk last night with your friends."

You weigh his words in your mind for a second before furling back a reply. "Aww, Sannie. If you're so desperate to get in my inner circle, just say so. I didn't know you would be so jealous of us..."

San's smile turns into a curve of amusement, "jealous of you? Me? Jealous?" he scoffs, "darling, you're dreaming. If I wanted to be in your inner circle, I would've just slept my way through it."

"Really now?" you retort, smiling softly, "slept with whom?"

"An easy prey to seduce would be you—" he clicks his tongue, "—if you can be so impressed by that..." he nods his head toward Professor Jeong, "...then I believe you'd be swept off your feet if I genuinely try to."

"You put yourself on such a high pedestal, Sannie," you muse, shaking your head lightly, "do you really think my standards are set so low to be dazzled by you?"

"Oh, only time would tell, Miss Lee," he rolls his eyes, keeping his sly smile on. "Maybe, you would get infatuated with me or give into your temptations."

"Ahh, such a dedicated wishful thinker you are," you snide, heaving a low chuckle, "the only thing I'm tempted to do is throw a chair in your fucking face—"

"Miss Lee!" you flinch in your skin, body spasming to the deep and coarse voice of the professor. Hesitant in yourself, you peek up to face him, finding him glaring at you without a twitch on his face. "You certainly are not going to pay attention to my class, then why waste my time? You're free to leave. I don't hold my students captive; the ones passionate about learning find a way to attend my class in any way they could."

Your cheeks heat up, turning a shade of faint cherry red; embarrassment licks your spine and head lowers itself, you won't forget this moment ever. San is busy staring at you, feeling a little guilty but of course he won't let you know that. Shortly after, you glance back at the professor, noticing him staring at you with his lips in a scowl and his eyes piercing through you. That alone, that look alone was enough for you to quiver in your shoes; his persona had always been the intimidating kind, the kind who is self-possessed and doesn't really bother himself with the rest of the world.

Professor Jeong wasn't fazed by anything, not even by the number of female students crushing on him in your department, rather in your class alone. He didn't acknowledge their stupefyingly sexual or overly sensual approaches, turned them down if he thought they were invading his privacy. You took that as a challenge; maybe, maybe not. Your rivalry with him wasn't because he was unapproachable or a forbidden fruit to taste, it was because he always found a way to rattle your senses and make you the fool.

You remember it as clear as a day, at the beginning of your senior year, the very first semester—attending his class on genetics, you were simply taken off by him and his way of speaking. His personality was homely, strict where it should be, however. Amidst his lecture, he caught you talking and joking around with your bench-mate and questioned you about the topic he was teaching.

"If you can yap useless things, then why don't you enlighten me with the working of gel electrophoresis, hmmm...?"

It stung. But not more than him adding, "I'm even surprised you could answer. Maybe you should focus yourself more on your academics than other things."

Other things? You realised he was making comments on your appearance, the way you were dressed, the way you had streaks of gold stitched in your hair, the way you always had playful make up on—he judged you based on that, and thus the profound feud between him and you began. After that, you would intentionally skip his classes and not make an effort to attend them; even the practical sessions, except for the mandatory ones where you would bite your tongue and listen to him demeaning your entire existence for not setting the microscope right.

"Alright, now that I'm done explaining the principle and bits of the procedure, you may follow the same with your partners; if you're muddled with any concern then heed my name." He announces out loud, stepping down from the podium.

You raise your head, further listening to his footsteps dither across the floor to the back of where another table had been put up for teachers' comfort. Though, that's what you thought. The mellow sound of his boots takes an unassuming turn to your row of workbenches, taking you off guard. You're trying to find the meaning behind his detour. Also, you had been oblivious from the start that this practical is supposed to be performed in pairs. And you had no one. Because you were late. Even the slow-witted and stolid transfer student, Reagan Keith had a partner; and her partner was San himself, something you definitely did not see coming.

"Miss Lee," Professor Jeong clears his throat, standing next to you, "I suppose you do not have a partner because of your tardiness, and I happened to pair all my students prior to you, which leaves me no choice but to perform this particular experiment with you. So now, take a brief look at the blackboard and what I've etched on it, try to understand it. Once done, we can surely proceed."

You nod, contemplating, biting your cheek, unable to comprehend the proximity between you two. The dense musk of his scent is wafting all your senses—the redolent scent of vanilla and cinnamon is a deadly concoction to drive you wild. His warmth is superficial, yet the kind which melts your mind with stupefying possibilities, just how he could be—you need to keep your thoughts clean and chaste. Still, you suppress your mind to a corner and peek at the blackboard, studying his neat hand etched on it. The title gave you the rough idea of what you're supposed to do.

'Determination of blood groups.'

Ahh, the title itself foretells the coming inevitable mishap is going to involve blood and blood lancets; you aren't so fond of the needles—no, it wasn't a phobia, you weren't fond of pricking yourself with the help of those lancets. The blue rounded capsules which compassed a sterile needle underneath was beyond torturous to you.

You heave out a deep breath, understanding the further procedure he had inscribed on the blackboard. Familiar with few terms, such as the usage of antiserums, and principle behind the entire procedure, you were relieved. Way more than relieved to know this wasn't something out of your expertise. The nurturing thought of you actually explaining it to him however was too heavy to bear. You clear your throat, fumbling in your words as you dart your eyes anywhere else but at him.

"Yes, Miss Lee, are you done gandering at the procedure?" he gawks, bewildered as if and continues, "now, please enlighten me with the steps so as to we can proceed with the experiment."

"We—we are determining the blood—blood groups," you stutter, not knowing where that came from, you turn your attention onto him, stifling a gasp upon noticing him leaning close to you.

"Go on, Miss Lee," he prompts you with a soft nudge of his head. "I'm sure having to palaver about for the entire day, you could at least narrate the steps to me. All I need is your guidance."

He's playing you again.

"Alright, I will—" your breath hitches in your throat—you witness him effortlessly shrug his coat off, revealing nothing of his skin but the long-sleeved turtleneck he wore under.

"Hmhm, yes...?" he instigates, putting his coat off to a side while he rolls the sleeves of shirt over till his elbows. "What's the first step?"

"Sterilisation." you mutter under your breath.

"Sterilisation of what, Miss Lee?" he teases, keeping a straight; his pushes his glasses further up his nose, which had apparently slipped off a bit.

"Sterilisation of the subject area."

"Okay, tell me which area is most suitable for this test?"

You nod, swallowing thickly as your eyes never leave his. "The tip of the middle finger."

You weren't going to waver, not even when his soft brown eyes were speaking the unbearable at the moment; how can he do that? How can he momentarily torment you with a sly curve of his lips or by the detrimental facade of his eyes?

"And why is that?"

"Tendon sheath—uh, the middle finger has tendon sheath which only limits it to the fingers; as for the thumb and pinky finger, the sheath extends a little further to radial bursae and ulnar bursae—so in case any infection occurs it'll be restricted to the middle finger unlike the thumb or pinky which can lead to the heart." You try your best to explain, forgetting how to breathe in the process.

"You know your stuff," he murmurs, his voice low and cold, "do you see any sterilisation pads on your table?"

Looking around your desk, almost immediately, your eyes lurk on a beaker full of 70% ethanol and cotton swabs. You bring the beaker close to you and reach out for the forceps placed next to it; extending the beaker toward to him, you clear your throat, hoping he'd get on the cue.

"Miss Lee, I'd very much appreciate if you were to perform all the steps involving this practical."

"Right—okay, so..."

You drag your words into a whisper, holding the palm of his hand in yours, while other picks out a cotton swab with the forceps. The piece of cotton rolls to and fro on his skin, rubbing gently. Hearing him wince at the cooling sensation of ethanol against his skin, you stifle a chuckle and let out a sigh; once you were done with sterilising, you reach out for the blood lancets. Picking out one, you rip the cap off to reveal a sterling needle shining with a sharp point.

"Have you done this before, Miss Lee?" he questions as he watches you hesitate with the blood lancet. "Pricking yourself is quite different from pricking others, isn't it?"

You nod because you knew how different it was. In actuality, you're scared. You always were terrified to prick yourself with the needle whenever you were required to and it was mostly during your practical classes involving forensics. The high possibility of piercing your professor's skin, past the point till where it's necessary, was an untold fear you couldn't overcome. But, as you glance up at his docile face adorning an encouraging smile, in addition to the haughty glint in his eyes, you are much more prepared for the consequences.

"I am absolutely terrified when it comes to pricking myself—what if I..." your glance at his hand, then dart your eyes to his, feeling a breath hitch in your throat.

"You won't hurt me," he reassures you, later on compelling you with his words, "any day now, Miss Lee."

The racking nerve in your head forces you to take a deep breath and you're hauling the pointed tip of the lancet close to his finger. You know it takes one sudden nick to break the skin, and you also know you're supposed to be careful and swift with it. Hesitation breaks your conscience, you're still in two minds, still wondering if this was a good idea. Regardless of your abrupt cold feet, you let the lancet pierce through his skin, drawing out a ceaseless stream of blood; Professor Jeong is heedful of his bleeding finger and proceeds to make three blobs of blood on a microscope slide.

He puts the slide back, the glass clinks against the table but it melts into your thoughts—you were ogling him. You notice his veiny hand trembling softly to the unbridled tremors from the cut on his finger, it was attractive. You wouldn't mind admitting it, he has great hands—and sadly, you had a fetish. Trapping your lower lip between your teeth, you admire the little things about him; the proximity faltered to nothing, gave away how spotless his skin was, how sublimely luscious his lips were, and how the tiny specks of green in his eyes were far too evident in the sea of umber. Though, his hands were all you could think about; his porcelain skin, the bulging veins wrapped around his knuckles while they branched further down his hand—uff.

"Miss Lee?" he calls out, snapping his other finger, "please pass me a cotton swab, I need to clean myself."

You were brought back to the reality, seamless kind, a little vapid where you were impelled to keep a safe and healthy 'professor-student' relationship with him.

Hold up!

Where in the world did that come from?

The thought of having something more than 'professor-student' relationship with him.

You and him?

That's a little...

Far-fetched.

Unless...

There was...

There was a way to vex him.

You look back to all the times he's devalued your existence during his classes. The haughty remarks which rolled off his tongue with so much ease to belittle your short-lived efforts in any of his class, or perhaps, in any of the activities your department would plan. A spark in your mind strikes you in a way you couldn't quite explain, but you know you're finding yourself tighten your grip on his wrist. It's oddly satisfying, it's benign in your mind—though, the tiny bulb of tease was going on and off every second you spent staring at him.

There goes nothing.

Without hesitating you bring his hand close to your mouth, your tongue darts out the minute his bleeding finger finds its way in your sight, and you lick up a stripe to clean the blood off his finger. You hear him gasp, a sharp intake of breath which already told you he was bothered by your actions. Continuing to the rhythm of your heart, you wrap your lips around the tip of his finger and give it a soft suckle. Soon, a metallic copper taste slides on your tongue. Such an eerie sight to witness, by your professors and the others too. Especially the spawn of devil who was too busy charming the ditzy transfer student off her feet; if San catches you being this 'type' of friendly with the professor you 'slightly' resent then you probably could never show your face to anyone on the surface of earth. Luckily, San wasn't even sparing a glance at you.

"Miss—Miss Lee?" his voice breaks when he calls out to you again, prompting you to loosen your grip on his hand before you're letting it drop to his side.

"You were supposed to add antiserums to the slide, drop by drop. Now..." he takes a deep breath, noticing your glossy eyes and your plump lips parted; he's definitely resisting his urges. "The blood on the slide is almost..." He glances down at the table. "...it's almost dry. Miss Lee—" he leans in close to your ear, a coarse whisper sending a shiver down your spine, "—I'd like to see you after class."

"Maybe you can justify your actions then."

He leans back and takes a short gander around. Curling his lips up in a riveting smile, he nudges you with a nod. "Add the antiserums now, Miss Lee. All the others have finished performing the experiment."

You're out of your daze, rummaging your eyes around to find many of your classmates are done with their work and had gone to the other side of the lab, where the desks were.

"I'll be checking your practical sheets before you leave, so make sure you complete them all now." he announces out loud in the class, earning muffled groans from his students. "And no excuses."

"You too, Miss Lee," he turns to you, "now, if you will, you have to tell me my blood group. So, go on."

Again, pulling yourself out of the stupor, you nod profusely and proceed to the next step before the blood on your slide is completely dry. You add a drop of each antiserum on the three droplets of blood; waiting for a second, you watch the drop with antisera D and antisera A added begin to clot. To your conclusion, Professor Jeong's blood group is A+ve. All while you did the experiment, his eyes were fixed on you, fixated on your quivering hands and lips every time you tried to do something. In some instances of his mind, he was admiring you and your dedication, and how badly he had rocked your boat into capsizing.

"Good," he muses, his words turning bitter soon, "you sure can do a few things right. Well, all that's left to do is—" he grunts softly as he pulls the sleeves of his shirt back down, while he shrugs on his coat, "—cleaning and writing. Chop chop, Miss Lee. And do not forget you have to wait after class."

With those spine-chilling words he leaves you stranded to your spot; unfortunately, this time San had overheard your conversation. He slides next to you, eyeing your workstation before glancing over at you.

His lips push themselves out into a pout, and he grumbles, "fucked up something?"

"None of your business," you grit your teeth, "get away before I chop your balls off."

"Oh, I'm shivering," he deadpans, nudging his elbow with your ribs, "come on, Lee. Tell me. What did you do for him to ask you to wait after class? We both know he's never done it—in fact he hates it when someone waits after class to 'talk' to him." he emphasises with finger quotes, rolling his eyes at you. "You fucked up big time then."

You heave out a long sigh, "I—just, shut up, San. You're the most annoying person in my life."

Grumbling, you glance at Professor Jeong, he was sitting on his desk at the back of the class, by the lockers. His stare was on you. It was on you from the moment he sat down. And even though you may not know what he was thinking, or wondering about, the glimpse of him having his teeth scratching on his lower lip was enough to let you know what exactly he intended on doing with you.

"Don't drag it out on me," he mumbles, his pout still intact on his face, "although, you're denying the truth, which means you two had an anomalous interaction..."

As he trails off, you roll your eyes at him. Finding the courage to break your eye contact with Professor Jeong, you glare at San and bite your lip. "Yeah, he made me wait after class. It's pertaining to me being late. Now off you go, make yourself useful elsewhere. Maybe, help Reagan find the remaining of her skirt, pretty sure she left it back at her dorms."

San muses for a second before leaning over to stare at the said girl's skirt; she was standing by the lockers chattering with someone. His face twitches smugly, his brows creasing as he checks her out.

"Oh, no no! That does seem more important than dealing with you, Lee." he smirks, biting his lower lip, "see you around, try not to get too infatuated with your favourite professor."

Sauntering away from you, he loses his lab coat and then engages himself with Reagan. You project your frustrations into a sigh and begin cleaning your workbench before heading to the lockers to retrieve your bag and other items. Walking past the professor was a challenge in itself because you were too fazed in your mind by everything he did. Though, you could really say you were fuddled over his decision to make you wait after class. Anyone could tell you exactly how much he despised his students waiting after class, 'cause most of the times it would be the absurd number of female students trying to confess their feelings for him. You could sympathise with him, understand where he was coming from because you would find yourself in a similar situation; you were well sought to in your department, endless confessions, profuse gestures of affection, what not.

Regardless, you realised what you wanted in a man. It was the professor himself.

"Miss Lee, I need your practical journal completed." he speaks up as you're walking past his desk with your tote bag on your shoulder and your lab coat neatly folded in your hands. "You know what, I'll go through it after class. Till then, get your write-ups done."

Offering you a redolent smile, he tears his eyes off you. You swallow thickly, knowing well how ineptly stuck you were with him, after class too. And one more fact, your practical journal was incomplete—blank at the most, which was a catastrophe in the waiting. As the fear creeps up your spine, you bite your cheek and stumble onto an empty desk, settling yourself down to catch a breath.

Time passes in a haste, without bounds, and soon the moment you dreaded arrives with a tinkering bell on it. The class is empty, except for you and Professor Jeong. You could listen to him breathe, placidly whistle out a grumble a few times since he was busy with something you didn't feel the need to pay attention to. The clock on the wall ticks again and you're gathering your stuff before 'sneaking' out of the class. If his attention is solely saturated over something useless to you, then he probably won't even notice you gone.

At least that's what you thought.

"Miss Lee, I must remind you of our little parley where I asked you to wait after class." He doesn't even peek from the file he was reading, and continues, "don't think I can't see you sneaking away."

You stop in your steps, right in front of the open door with a few students lurking behind in the corridor. Stifling a groan, you roll your eyes and turn around on your feet. The man is sat poised in his chair, his lips curved in a smirk as he's staring right through you. Your heart skips a beat, yes too cliche, but you felt its arrhythmic vibrations ring your ears.

"Are there any students loitering in the corridor?" he questions and you nod to it, pressing your lips together. "Wait for them to leave and then lock the doors."

Why?

Lock the doors?

Why lock the doors?

Now your heart was pounding in that bony little cage of yours. Sooner or later, you would find it either in your throat or your guts that is if he continues to stare at you with the intensity of sun. Quite lost in the trance of his melancholic yet concupiscent eyes, you start nibbling on your lower lip, wanting to squeeze your thighs together to rid yourself of the tension you felt in your cunt. The chatters start dithering outside, ascending to the wind of nothing and it brings peace to your mind; not that it wasn't peaceful before, but now, it's just you and him caught in a void of infatuation.

"Do not take my intentions in the wrong way, Miss Lee. I am not so fond of disturbances during one-on-one student session..." he explains, going back to reading his file. Though, after a while he clears his throat and prompts you, "any moment now, Miss Lee."

"Yea—yeah," you stutter, sensing your throat close up.

Taking a step forward you close the latches on the door. The exhilaration of you being alone with him is sort of distorted in your head when you make your way towards his desk. What does he have in his mind? What does he want from you? Is this one of his many ways to make you feel small and little? Like all the times he does when you're attending his classes or so.

The look in his eyes has a spark of joy, just humming across the field of brown containing his pep. Those same eyes follow you around, till you're in front of him; his face shows no emotion, except for that straight line of his lips.

"Would you need an invitation, Miss Lee? Your binder, please." he asks, peeking up at through his long lashes and the black rimmed glasses. The glare on them makes it hard for you to read his eyes this time.

You clear your throat, and fumble with your bag to take the thick binder out. Pages furled out of it, a few flying off to fall on the ground, while a few remained stuck in amidst the others; you could tell Professor Jeong wasn't too happy with the condition of your binder. To be fair, this binder was your repository for all performed experiments so far. Nonetheless, your binder was...incomplete. Biting your lip, you place your binder on the table in front of him.

He eyes it for a moment before grabbing it in his hands and flipping the pages. You couldn't resist holding him on a high regard; his sleek fingers pinching the edges of the pages, turning them, eyes rummaging along the lines, and his parted lips which could tell he was contemplating.

"I certainly did not expect this from you, Miss Lee." he clicks his tongue, "now that I see it for myself, I can't help but agree with my initial remark about you. I would suggest you focus more on your academics rather than wasting your time with your friends and ambling through your life."

He sighs in defeat, mostly disappointment and slides your binder towards you across the table. Pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, he takes a deep breath and turns his head to you, his face expressing nothing at all.

"Life's not all about strolling through one club then to another. And while you do that, I can't sit back and watch you ruin your potential, Miss Lee," he sucks his teeth, as he continues to berate you with his words, "you're in the running for most proficient student in our department, alongside Mr. Choi. Now, would you be delighted to bear a consequence where he holds the trophy and not you? All because of what...? Some fiddling people you call your friends whose only job is to drag you out to buzzing clubs and what not."

Listening to him hound your existence, your heart suddenly weighs down in your chest, it grows heavy till it touches your gut. Oh no, you were letting it affect your state of mind. On the verge of tears, you look away from him and fixate your blurry vision on the floor; it was overbearing to hold his eyes, to wallow in the disappointment he held in them. Moreover, you didn't want him to see you cry, or shed a tear for that matter because you know you were close. Very close.

You sniffle softly, lowering your head furthermore to avoid to his gaze.

"Miss Lee?"

Silence.

You don't care for the concern his voice shows and continue to toil yourself on the contrasting hue of morning sun and the grey tiles. Blurry vision captures the indefinite shadows of lockers, some bookshelves—the sun was crawling overhead, witnessing your derision with your professor. You don't try to pay him any mind, not that you could even if you wanted to. There's a possible reason to why you don't want to, maybe the answer lies in your uncertain infatuation with him, or maybe it does prove your outlandish feelings for him. Which one of it was genuine?

A small moment passes between you two, roiling in tranquil haze before he clicks his tongue and drawls on a breath. "And to speak on your furtive behaviour—"

"Why do you hate me?"

A beat of serenity yanks his attention.

"What do you mean, Miss Lee?"

"I asked, why do you hate me so much?"

You glance up at him, preparing your unfazed mind for his reaction to your reddened cheeks and nose, and the obvious streaks of tears down your cheeks. The muscles on his face twitch even if it was indiscernible to the moment, you study him; he reveals a speck of pity in his eyes, so pathetic for you to think he'd pity you.

"Sherri?"

His lips quiver so delicately, calling out your name in a sleek yet coarse voice. It was the first time he'd ever called out your name, enunciated each syllable in his utmost trepidation as if he really cared for you. That alone was enough to cause a havoc in your heart, dwindling it further down to your...maybe it was the way he spoke your name out, but you were definitely feeling a spark strike in your pussy.

"I do not despise you, Sherri," he softly murmurs, looking away from you for a long minute before trailing his pitiful eyes back on you. "If my actions have made you—"

"—you always belittle me, humiliate me in front of the class and pretend to act as if you do it all because you care." you ramble, "you don't care about my feelings! All you can think is how to make me fall from my grace. Isn't it?"

You shake your head and bring your hands up to wipe your tears off, which had uncontrollably gushed out of your eyes while you had your meltdown. Your tote bag falls onto the floor with a soft thud, and you pay no mind to it. The hyperventilation soon kicks in, suffocating your lungs with a want to break free from your chest, and your stomach littered with unwanted butterflies fluttering along. More tears slide out of your eyes, and you lose your capability to see clearer.

The dainty streaks of torment on your cheeks, your tears, and your flushed face was a huge turn on for him; he could not probably free himself from his fetish, but his philia for tears or anything remotely close to it, always excited his cock. He shifts in his seat, spreading his legs apart under the desk to free himself from the strain in his pants. Oh how badly he had been aroused, by just watching you cry.

"Sherri, you're mistaking my concern for bullying; fuck! Why would I want to torment or humiliate you in front of the class?" he questions, such dainty voice breaking your heart and making you feel pathetic to sob in front of him.

"Come here."

He lures you in with his soft voice, and a frail tug of his lips; his smile had already proved to be devastating to you and even the slightest of it can make you, his puppet. Without realising it, you're taking short strides around the table to be by his side. He has his hand extended in front of you, something you didn't quite understand until you hold it in hesitation, and he pulls you down on his lap.

You gasp, and then yelp when you land on his lap; at first you find yourself uncomfortable in his embrace but giving it a little time, you relax and settle down, still with a bit of unease. His arms wrap themselves around your waist and he leans close to rest his chin on your shoulder as you sit sideways on his lap. Ambiguous swirls of darkness cover his eyes, and your breath hitches trying to unravel his true intentions. Instead, you were starting to get comfortable with him.

"I do not resent you for who you are, Sherri," he begins with a whispery breath, rubbing your back as he does. "I resent myself for being so helplessly bound under your spell."

Your lips part open, your chest heaves up and down erratically to constrain your wildly pounding heart. Oh, you were gone, you most definitely were.

"Projecting my bitter disposition on you was a mechanism I sought to cope my untamed desire—the ugly desire to taste this forbidden fruit." Mumbling, he turns his head and traces his lips along your neck, kissing and sucking. "Holy fuck, this body of yours...those lips, you don't know how much I crave them."

His hands tighten around your waist, and you gasp for air, "Professor Jeong, this isn't ethical. You're violating the university policy...ah!"

He bites down on your neck, grabbing enough flesh in between his teeth to suck on it. That's going to leave a pretty purple bruise behind, all in its glory, on your neck—so fucking attractive to you. Pressing down on a moan, you drag your hands to his shoulders, hoping to shove him off to disturb his grip on you. Though you thought. It wasn't easy to make him budge, he wasn't letting you go, and you were gradually falling into that realisation.

"I could lose my job," he whispers, chuckling softly, "I can fucking lose my job if I engage with you, if I make my vile thoughts a reality but I can't control myself any longer, I need you, I need to ruin you—I know you feel the same way about me. Don't you, Sherri?" he nibbles on your earlobe, his hot breath fanning your ear. "Aren't your intentions the same as me, huh?"

"No." you mumble.

"No?"

You shake your head.

He doesn't believe you.

"Sherri, oh you beautiful liar," he sighs, his lips now curling into a smirk, "didn't you think of something else when you were sucking my finger off, hmm?"

You pout, not wanting to answer or have him the satisfaction of being right; instead, you start shuffling on his lap to get out of his hold. Squirming in his lap, you press your butt against his crotch, accidentally touching his hardened cock. It continues to poke your ass, and his fingers dig into your skin when his hold tightens on your waist. You were making it worse, it was visible on his face in the form of quivering lips and shut eyes.

"Don't move...!" he warns you, pressing your lower body against his lap, keeping you fixed in one place. "You'll make me...fuck. You do this on purpose, don't you?"

You stop moving—well you had no choice but to when his brute strength was holding you down against him. "I don't. I haven't done anything on purpose."

Lying is so easy. But him believing it has to be easy too. Though at this point you knew you were teasing him.

"Sherri, don't lie." He peels his eyes open and takes a sharp breath in, "get on your knees."

You gulp. Knees? He wants you on your knees...? That's...really fucking hot.

Eagerly, you crawl out of his lap as he gives you the chance to, keeping his hands to his side. He repositions his chair in a way to face you, as you're kneeling down in front of him, by the side of the table. There's not much distance between you, and the dithered proximity makes your heart palpitate with anticipation.

What was he going to do?

Your mind raced with the possibilities. Was he going to shove his 'obvious' boner down your throat? Was he going to make you ride him? What was his hauntingly beautiful mind thinking about?

"An obedient teacher's pet, how adorable," he coos, stroking his hand over your head as if to pet you.

"Professor..."

"Shush...!" he leans over, closely watching you with his fervent eyes. Out of nowhere the warmth of his thumb engulfs of your cheek. "Not a sound."

Brushing his thumb across, he collects a drop of your tear and brings it close to his mouth. He wraps his lips around his thumb and gives it a good suck; his eyes intently fixed on yours, delineating his intentions. You nod your head and watch him straighten his back to relax against the chair. His eyes glance over at the door for a minor second before he fixes them back on you; with a lilting smirk, he grabs the wooden pointer stick from his table and slaps its tip on the palm of his other hand. The same hand rubs along the length of it until his forefinger traces the tip before holding it in his one hand.

You couldn't help but gulp again, feeling aroused by his hand, and the way it was pumping the stick to and fro. Lowering yourself on your calves, you try to squeeze your thighs together. You wanted to ease your muscles, wanted to rid yourself of the tightness in your cunt because you were beyond wet for him.

"Hands behind your back," he commands, and you oblige without hesitation. "I asked you to be on your knees for me..." he softly mutters, tapping the stick twice on the floor to get you back on your knees.

You do that too; completely unaware of his next move. He drags the stick from the ground to you, to the hem of your skirt and lifts it up—exposing your ruined panties to him.

"Tsk, wet already?" he heaves out a breath, "do I really affect you that much?"

"Yes," you swallow and mumble, "you do."

"Hmm," he muses, humming his words along later, "that makes me want you even more."

With his other hand he takes his glasses off and flings them on the table. He pushes the stick further up till your waist to completely expose your dripping wet panties and your cunt; he licks his lips at the sight, his instincts running wild in his mind. Your hands were perfectly slotted in the small of your back, tightly wound together to appease the tension.

"Ah..fuck," you groan when you feel the wooden stick rub your cunt; he had angled it in such a way that it kept your skirt from falling down and it also gave him enough access to drag it along your slit. "Please, professor, I want you."

Listening to you mewl, his smirk widens, and he slurs his words, "now you want me, Miss Lee? Un-fucking-believable."

He picks up his pace, letting the stick rub itself perfectly against your slit; your cunt clenches around nothing, aching to have something in between, something to fill you up. You writhe in desperation, shifting your weight from one leg to another. Unable to contain yourself, you start grinding yourself against the stick, upon noticing it, he halts his movements and watches you with amusement. Casing his lips into a pout, he traces his forefinger on his lower lip; he's contemplating, mirthfully watching you pleasure yourself on the stick. You bring both of your hands to the front, holding the stick to stabilise it before you increase the pace of hips grinding down.

"Aww, is my little brat getting excited?" he scoffs, shaking his head lightly.

You press your lips together and nod your head, closing your eyes shut to the budding pleasure crawling up your body. Second by second, your sanity shrinks to nothing, making you loosen your grip on the stick. From the corner of your half-lidded eye, you watch him offer you a conceited smile, clearing his intentions out when he pulls the stick from between your legs and slides it up to your chin. Tapping its tip twice to your chin, he gets your attention on him with your eyes wide in anticipation.

He spreads his legs wider in front of you, putting his cock on a glorious display as it tightens in his pants; the outline of his cock figuratively makes you swallow a thick gulp of air. Keeping your head high with the stick, he uses his other hand to palm his crotch, gently wrapping his fingers around his cock to give it a few half-hearted pumps through his pants. With a nudge of his head, he drops the stick to a side and gestures you to come close. Biting your tongue, you crawl towards him, your heart in your throat now. Maybe it was the anticipation, the eagerness to see him bare and under the griming influence of your pleasure, but you were slightly alarmed to find yourself slotted in between his legs.

"Let's get my brat what she wants," he whispers further shifting comfortably in his hair. "Such hungry eyes gawking at the sight of my cock," he grabs your jaw lightly and strokes his thumb under your chin. He tuts, "I get these looks a lot but there's something about you— something about the way you're drooling over my cock."

You let your teeth sink deep in your lower lip, while your lips twitch into a soft smile of amusement. "Am I turning you on, professor?"

You release your lip from your teeth's grip, and he watches it wobble in a daze while you lean close and place your hands on either of his thighs. Rubbing circles with your fingertips on his thighs, you take a deep breath to calm your nerves.

"If that wasn't the case you wouldn't be here, Miss Lee. Kneeling between my legs, ready to take my cock in your mouth, hmm?" he suggestively murmurs, dragging his thumb to your lips till he forces it in your mouth. "Now, open wide."

Using his other hand, he fumbles with the buckle of his belt. While he does manage to get it undone, you decide to suck on his thumb which was still fixed in your mouth; you lick around, blatantly ignoring his rugged skin. You hear him grunt ever so gently to your mouth wrapped around his thumb, tingling with excitement to know what it would be like to have this same warmth around his cock. Everything passes in a haze when he restlessly tugs down on his pants and briefs at the same time; you notice him take his thumb out of his mouth and instead he replaces it with his cock.

The reddened tip of his cock nudges against your lips and you open wide, lowering yourself down on his cock—though, only halfway considering his length would take you long to adjust to while the thick girth already made the corners of your mouth sting. He holds your neck, his fingers delicately splayed on the nape as he pushes you down, however he's mindful of you and how much you can take in. You start stroking the remaining of his shaft—which you would eventually have to swallow deep in your mouth.

"Fuck, you're driving me insane with your mouth, I might..." he trails his words off into a low groan, beginning to thrust himself into your mouth. "I'm not going to last long, am I?"

He taunts, digging his fingers into your skin as he pushes your head further down on his cock; his thrusts become too sloppy, and you don't pay much mind to it. You are too focused on widening your mouth around his cock to fit him fully inside. Feeling the tip of his cock brush against your throat, you almost gag; your throat tightens, and the suffocation starts sneaking up on you, but you push yourself through and sink lower on his cock.

"Fuck, such a good brat, taking me in so well," he whimpers coarsely, "but this little brat needs to be punished for making me break my rules."

You gaze up at him with your teary eyes, softening them as he looks down at you too. Nodding your head, you hollow your cheeks and bop your head up and down after adjusting to his size. Your fingers dig into his fleshy thighs, constraining your moans with his cock stuffed in your mouth, you keep staring up at him till a few drops of tears cascade down your cheeks. He brings his other hand to caress your cheeks, thumb stroking off the tears as he doesn't let go of your head. You're on the verge of gagging on his cock, choking even, but disregarding your gag reflex, he bucks his hips into your face and his cock slides further down your throat. Unable to hold onto your moans and whimpers, you try to make a sound—the vibrations send him reeling from pleasure, he throws his head back and tightens his hold on your neck.

"Can't make a sound because my cock is—your mouth is stuffed with my cock, isn't it?" he teases, closing his eyes shut to relish the wetness and warmth of your mouth. "Don't worry—I won't—I won't cum too soon. My brat deserves a little—a little bit of fun even if she's being pun—punished."

His stutter was absolutely beautiful, it showed how much of a mess he was with your mouth wrapped around his cock, engulfed in the devious warmth of it. Somehow, it gave you a sense of victory, a sense of peace to know you had gotten him on his edge with only your mouth and nothing else. The saltiness of his precum floods your mouth—it makes you retch a bit regardless of that, you continue sucking him off while his thrusts are slow and steady. In the meantime, he pulls his untucked shirt above till his chest and holds it there; he pushes your head further down on his cock, till your nose is pressed against his pubic bone and your skin feels ticklish from his trimmed pubic hair.

His chest is rising and falling at an alarming rate; he surely was a mess, and you liked seeing it. When you peek up at him with your still-teary eyes, you notice sweat covering his forehead, making his hair stick to his skin while his cheeks are flushed with a shade of red. How adorable. How fucking adorable. The ever so haughty and stoic professor was writhing under your touches, with how you lapped your tongue under his shaft and purposely sucked your cheeks in to make it tight.

In actuality, you were really driving him wild; his grip on your neck loosens a bit for a hot second and he uses that time to let his hand entangle in your hair. You didn't realise when you groped his thighs for support, even so, your nails had dug deep enough to leave behind crescent marks on his skin, the kind which would fluster with a brutal purple tint tomorrow. Grasping a proper hold on your hair, he pulls you back and frees his cock from his mouth; a vile 'pop' sound resounds in the room while he does so.

The moment his cock is out of your mouth, you gasp for air, you swallow huge lugs of air through your mouth and glance at him with dazed eyes. His thick and veiny cock was slick with your spit, shining softly under the lights while a few strings of your saliva still connected your lips and his shaft. Your drool had covered every inch of his cock and had also slithered down your chin. The sensation in your mouth was a little sticky and salty from his precum. You keep your mouth wide open and wipe off the drool using the back of your hand; he smugly chuckles, eyes on you like a predator.

"Need to take a break?" he taunts you, belittling your presence and you shake your head to a no. Leaning over, he cups your face in both of his hands and grazes his eyes along your chest and exposed thighs.

"Get up."

Again, his domineering voice forces you to oblige, and you get on your wobbly feet—feeling your throat sore and tight from his cock hitting constantly, you swallow enough amount of spit and try to wash the sting down. He notices it but doesn't say much. His hands slide down from your face and hold your waist as you stand in front him; without any doubt, he pushes your front against the desk and makes you bend over. One hand on the collar of your blouse, and other on the small of your back; he keeps you in that position while he takes his time to shimmy his pants and briefs down till his knees. He positions himself behind you, managing to push your skirt up on your back to expose your dripping wet panties and your cunt. Your wet panties were driving him wild; his breathing becomes even more ragged when he snaps at the waistband and pulls them down to your knees. He swallows thickly when his thirsty eyes lurk over your glistening wet cunt, clenching around nothing for the time being.

"This wet cunt is going to take in every inch of me...fuck," he curses his under his breath while he smoothens his hand on one of your buttcheeks. "But we can't forget about your punishment, can we?"

He flattens his palm against your ass, keeping you pressed against the desk with his hand on your neck; you whimper in anticipation and hold onto the edge of the desk till your knuckles turn while. Anticipation makes you wiggle your ass slightly, as you're on your tippy toes and perfectly bent over the desk.

"No, we can't," you heave out a shaky sigh, not able to control your excitement anymore. "How are you going to punish me, professor?"

You sneer in your seductive voice, slurring your words against your rounded lips to get a reaction out of him. Having your vision limited to the empty classroom and the workbenches, the exhilaration of not knowing what he was going to do, makes you even wetter.

Yunho knows how vile your mind is, he knows the wet patch on your panties continues to grow the more he teases you and honestly, he wasn't complaining. He liked it as much as you did, but he hid it well in his composed speech and relaxed movements.

"There's only one way to punish a brat like you," he grunts, slapping one of your buttcheeks, "count them."

So, you were getting spanked. Such a fitting punishment for a brat like you, by a professor too—why did it feel like you were trapped in a low-budget student-professor porn movie? You can't complain anyway, you were absolutely absorbed in the trance of your pleasure and his hands caressing your butt.

You nod and thus begins the punishment.

Slap!

"One," you mewl, feeling his hand burn on your skin.

Slap!

"Two," your breath hitches when you go to say it out loud, your skin stinging from his hand.

Slap!

"Thr—three!" you groan out loudly, the impact jolting your body against the top of the desk.

This one stung like a bitch.

Slap!

Without any warning, he adds one more spank to the same buttcheek before moving onto the other. He offers it a soft squeeze first, and then pulls his hand back and flattens his palm over it.

Slap!

"How many were those, huh?" he asks your mind fiddles with the remaining brain cells—how many were those? Really. How many?

"Si—six," you somehow manage to sputter, your spit falling on the desk in front of you.

"Good girl," he praises, rubbing his hand on your buttcheek before tracing it down to your folds. His fingers press and nudge against your folds until he rams one finger along your slit. Pushing down, wedging his finger deep inside, he watches your juices coat the length of his finger before he brings it to his nose to give it a good sniff. "I wonder if you're enjoying this punishment, pup. Are you? Are you enjoying this punishment...?"

First, your mind goes haywire when he teases you with that nickname. Pup. Well, you were turning out to be his pet, you might as well roll along with it.

Second, you were certainly enjoying the punishment, liking the way his hands were able to engulf your entire buttcheek at once.

Third, you're forced to slip out of your sanity when he aligns his cock with your hole and slowly sinks in. Your aroused juices proved helpful for him to slip right in. You suddenly start feeling full, the stretch of your walls subsiding into a soothing ache and then it sublimes completely into pleasure. Your desires were getting quenched; inch by inch your cunt swallows him whole, the burn on your walls now pacified by him. He doesn't move when he bottoms out, he keeps his cock sucked deep in you. Keeping one hand on the small of his back, he pushes your nimble body further against the desk—your back arches inwards and prodding your ass out for his easy access.

"Fuck, such a tight cunt. Got no one to loosen it out, Miss Lee?" he smirks, grunting at the way your walls clenched around him and remains unmoving. "Don't worry, I'll fuck it loose—fuck," you tighten around him listening to his wispy words, "do you want me to, huh, pup? Do you want me to fuck you loose?"

"Yeah—yeah, yeah I'd like that," you murmur, your brain turned into a mush and your body shuddering as he slowly, very slowly, starts moving. He doesn't pull out completely, he keeps his cock buried deep in you and slides in and out at a leisure pace.

"Of course, my pup would like to get fucked senseless," he mumbles, slapping one of your buttcheeks again.

You were fully sure his hand was now printed on your skin in a bright red shade; the soreness didn't matter because the thrill was eating you up and turning it into bliss. Biting back a moan, you keep your breathing steady. Though, you feel your chest shatter entirely when he picks up his pace. Your fingernails start scratching at the varnish on the table, a bit of it getting stuck in them.

"Yes, prof—professor..." you groan, stuttering with his thrusts.

"Nuh-huh, for an obedient puppy like you, I'm your master," he slides his cock out, and rams back into you, letting it plunge deep, "what should you—should you call me, pup?"

"Master," you breathe out, exasperated. "Master, please go faster, fuck! Fuck me harder please, breed your little pup." You cry, genuinely letting tears streak down your cheeks; you were weak already, holding out till he would increase the rhythm of his merciless thrusts.

Something goes off in his head, his hips start snapping at an animalistic pace with your body thrashing against the wooden desk; his hands are all over you, touching you, caressing you, leaving his marks on you. Though, at a point he brings one of his hands to the curve of your back, while his other hand winds itself around your thigh. Seeming seconds drag on with his thrusts curt and sharp, his cock reaching deep in your cunt till you could feel it tauten in the pit of your stomach. Yunho could sense your walls clench around his cock, not liking it one bit—his thrusts start faltering, gradually coming to a halt.

Still buried deep in you, he leans over your back—inching close to your neck, he bites down harshly before whispering, "does my pup want to cum?"

You could discern the slyness in his voice, and you nod your head with your mouth agape, drool glistening down your lower lip and staining your chin. Bearing his size, tuning with his blunt thrusts, and the way his tip was abusing your sweet spot, it was all too much, sending you into a sensory overdrive. At this point, you had zero comprehensible thoughts in your mind except for the heinous acts you were weaving into your body: all of them being about your professor and his huge dick.

"Well, then my pup has to wait a little longer," he grunts close to your ear and then straightens himself up, "master isn't done with his pup yet."

"Can my pup wait a little longer?" he presses his hand down on your back, reluctantly making your walls clench around him.

You're left with no choice but to nod your head again, and it satisfies him; his gradually starts moving again, keeping his thrusts steady and slow. He lets you adjust to him again, and eventually increases his pace. Pulling and shoving himself into you, he starts bucking his hips into your thighs, his grip tightening till his knuckles turn white while you hold onto the edge of the table like your life depended on it. Your body oscillates to and fro, colliding and thumping with the wooden table with his every thrust. The sound of clothes crumpling, and the rattling of his belt buckle, makes your heart race harder in your chest.

You had never imagined you'd be caught in this situation; not that you didn't imagine or fantasise it, you didn't think it'd become a reality. Yeah, it's true that you had countless fantasises about your professor, one of them being fucked while you're bent over his desk—but the probability of him actually fucking you was one in a twenty, considering there were twenty female students in your class. Skin slapping against skin, his cock thrashing balls deep in your tight cunt, you were still mewling in your mind for more. The sensation was diabolical in a way, clustering your brain with unwanted thoughts—hell, you had lost it.

A known tightness tangles itself in your gut, your stomach cherishing the last bit of butterflies it felt before knowing you would flood down on his cock soon. Your senses drop, your stomach twists and knots, your heart runs a miles per hour because his thrusts were helping you chase your high. You were so sure he was going to let you take a break, let you ease out the tightness in your stomach; but to your unbridled surprise, he doesn't. His movements dither, slowing down till he comes to a stop again; he's still buried deep in you, and somehow that caused you more pain than his actual thrusts.

"Aww, my pup is too eager to get off," he mumbles, throwing his head back in pure bliss from your walls still clenched around him, but then he feels you loosen, and he starts pounding into you with a gentle tempo. "Not so soon. You're still getting punished."

He drags on for an hour or so, his thrusts stopping completely sometimes, his cock buried deep in your warmth—eventually he would pick up his pace and ram into your tight little cunt as if it was the last thing he wanted. You had been denied your orgasm a few times, counting it, you had been denied three times so far. Though that pleasure was turning into pain, your belly ached with every inch of strain his cock put on your cunt. Your stomach knots itself for the fourth time, your legs trembling and your yearning crossing your threshold to hold your orgasm in.

The familiarity only grows in your gut, your walls puckering around his cock to milk out his own orgasm; but he knows how to play it off well, he wasn't going to cum before you did. Pressing back into your thighs, he remains unmoving for a second before picking up his pace again, his cock plunges into the deeper void of your cunt, almost protruding the walls to your gut. You have lost your voice to make a sound, one thing—but the other thing was you weren't supposed to make a lot of noise. Swallowing your moans and grunts, you feel your high washing over; your walls tighten around his cock one last time before they're coming undone—releasing you juices all over his cock. Some of it squirts around as his cock still keeps plunging deep into you, a few drops stain his abdomen and get absorbed in his clothes, but he doesn't seem too bothered by it.

"My pup made a mess on my cock," he grumbles, closing his eyes shut as he helps you ease your cunt with a few of his concise and brief thrust. His thighs collide with yours, heat growing between your bodies and your skin slick from sweat and your orgasm. "Such a pretty pup, such a beautiful little baby..." he rambles on his own, incoherent and inaudible, but mostly it was him losing his mind over the trickling warmth of your arousal.

His thrusts become sloppy once he knows he's reaching his high; but he doesn't give out just yet. With a couple more longing and concise thrusts, he lets himself drive his cock deep into your warmth—he counts down the minutes with his ambling pokes till it becomes unbearable for him to hold out. Taking a deep breath and arching his back to let his cock plunge deep, he slides one of his hands on your lower back—pressing, pushing, digging his fingers and palm in your flesh, he releases himself in deep in you. With every thrust, he keeps pulling out till he completely slides out of you. He smirks at the sight his eyes behold, twinkling with a yearning no one knows, not even you; his load dribbles down your pussy, staining your skin in stark white shade, as some of it spurts on your inner thighs.

You're breathless, too fucked to understand anything and thus you couldn't register your surroundings quite well when he flips you over. Grabbing your shoulders, he pushes you down on the ground, having you kneel before him with his cock near your mouth. The veins on his cock were less bulged than before, but his shaft was coated in a thin layer of his cum and glints a bit with your juices.

"Clean me up, pup."

His order doesn't go unheard by you, and as the loyal little puppy you are to him, you hold on to the sides of his thighs and lean in to lick his cock off. At first, it's a weird concoction of saltiness and a little bit of sweetness, soon it fades to nothing. You lap your tongue around his shaft, over and under his tip till you've cleared everything off from his cock—you pull back, smiling dizzily because you were delighted to help him out. Half-lidded eyes trace a line up and you find him staring at down at you, his hand in the process to grab your jaw. Caressing your chin, he pulls you up on your feet and helps you sit on the desk before wrapping his arms around your waist to pull himself closer to you.

"Miss Lee," he whispers, "I'm sure the post-orgasm clarity is now sinking in both of our minds, but we certainly need to address the elephant in the room."

You lean forward to rest your head on his chest, closing your eyes shut for a moment, you take a deep breath in and relax your tensed muscles. "Professor Jeong...I've wanted this to happen for a long time."

"So, you have no regard for me losing my job, do you?" he teases, rubbing circles on your back to soothe you, "Lee Sherri, you really are a brat. Making me break my rules."

"What rules?" you grin, peeking up at him as your wrap your arms around his broad chest.

"I don't date my students," he murmurs, pecking your forehead.

"Who's suggesting you date me?" you chuckle, shaking your head, "we can be fuck buddies."

"Is that what you call it nowadays?" he laughs, heartily, pouting down at you as he continues, "we'll have to be really careful, Sherri. Can't have anyone knowing about us—"

Knock knock!

Your eyes go wide, your heart thumps in your chest and your lips start quivering in fear. On the other hand, Yunho is pretty tame, and he only offers you a reassuring smile.

"Straighten out your clothes and relax. It's no stranger, I've been expecting him actually," he mumbles, breaking apart from your embrace to pull his pants and briefs up.

Whilst he is buttoning his pants and buckling the belt, you too tug your panties up and hop off the desk. You try to smoothen out the creases on your skirt and blouse—your white lacy socks were stained with dust at the knees, but you didn't care about it. The clutter of papers on the desk remains as it is, neither of you bothered to organise it. Professor Jeong smiles at you warmly before heading to the door of the classroom, he unlocks the latch and pulls the doors inside to reveal another man with tall silhouette standing there.

Professor Song.

"Since when have you been locking your doors, Yun?" the latter teasingly mutters and chortles, stepping past his friend and entering the classroom which reeks of sweat and sex. He sniffs the air and along the lines his eyes land on you, "ah. So, you were having "one-on-one" with your student."

Professor Song wasn't a professor from your department, he was the heartthrob of the physics department, seemingly the kind who would definitely not have any sentiments towards his students or anyone younger to him for that matter. Clad in a plaid shirt and khakis, he too had a body worth breaking the laws for; his toned biceps bulged out of the sleeves he had rolled over to his elbows, his thick thighs (which you've fantasied riding on) were defined by his tight khakis, and hazel eyes were piercing through you with curiosity.

"Miss Lee and I were just discussing, weren't we, Miss Lee?" Yunho calls out from behind him, tugging down on the crotch of his pants for some apparent reason.

"Discussing what?"

You shift your weight on your feet, standing an inch away from the desk (where you were just railed by your professor) and you pull down on your skirt, not knowing why you felt the need to. You eye your tote bag fallen down on the floor, then at the mess of your binder on the table, and one thing becomes clear which is you and Professor Jeong did fuck on the table.

"I was chiding her for not completing her experimental write-ups, Min," Yunho adds, scratching the back of his neck as he comes to stand next to him. "Miss Lee, we'll have a proper discussion about your careless behaviour next time, perhaps tomorrow. Now, you may leave."

You nod, "ye—yes professor."

Hastily, you sprint out of the classroom after gathering your things and stuffing them in your bag in a haphazard way; meanwhile Mingi rolls his eyes at his friend and scoffs.

"Lie to someone else, Yun."

"Fuck you," he grumbles before a conceited smirk takes over his face.

"If you keep your trap shut, maybe we can share."

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #ateez x reader #jeong yunho #ateez yunho #jeong yunho x reader #atz #jeong yunho smut #smut #yunho #yunho ateez #yunho smut #choi san #song mingi #choi san x reader #jeong yunho x you

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kidrat · 1 year

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having feelings about trans Gwen,,, like there's the 'superhero leading a double life' allegory for being closeted, which ppl have noted, but there's plenty I haven't seen anyone mention yet! like, the fact her dad has a trans patch in support of her means she's out.

She's a young trans *girl* (as opposed to a trans woman) living as her authentic gender in a loving home. she went to her school dance in a dress. she did ballet! which of course boys can do too, but often times when people are assigned male they don't get the chance to explore feminine hobbies. It's really lovely that someone, likely Gwen's dad, supported her enough to let her have those girly experiences and memories, whether she was living as a girl when she took dance up or as a gnc boy.

While it's subtle rep, I still think it's awesome to imply a character like Gwen is trans. Trans girls don't always get to have a childhood. Transmisogyny fetishizes transfems and presents them as always victimisers, never victims. They're barred from girlhood and it's connotations of innocence, vulnerability, lovableness.

Not that Gwen isn't a hashtag strong female character! And not that she hasn't had to grow up fast in other ways. She Is Literally Spiderwoman and she plays the drums and has agency and expresses negative emotions. But she's also a teenager, and she gets to be hugged and comforted, and to be set up for a soft friends to lovers relationship with another teenager, a cis boy who respects her and only knows her as a girl and thinks she's amazing and draws her in his sketchbook. That is not a role the media often lets trans girls have!!! It's lovely to think young transfems might be able to see themselves in a character consistently shown as worthy of affection.

Of course, the fact that Gwen is in the closet about being spider-woman is even sadder knowing this is her second rodeo. Lots of us have hesitated to come out a second time because our parents were supportive about the first thing and well, putting something else on them feels like taking the piss or hoping for too much.

Something else I wanted to talk about is how Gwen being trans effects a reading of her Peter's death, especially taking into account the new information this film gave us about this. There's this gendered switch happening, where Peter passes on his usual role to a woman. What's more, he has to die for her story to happen. She loves him, and never wanted him to die, but she's blamed for it anyway. Her father talks affectionately about the dead Peter, calling him his daughter's best friend. He talks about him like a son. He vows revenge on Gwen for killing him. It's a fantastic allegory for how some transphobic parents hate their out trans children for 'killing' the kid they had before.

I think with the above in mind, maybe we can see the subtext of Gwen's arc with her dad in this film as that of a supportive parent who's nevertheless got some biases left that hurt his trans daughter, who doesn't speak up for fear his acceptance is conditional.

I don't think it's a stretch to suggest that protecting a trans daughter is this Captain Stacy's motivation while he's working as a cop. Obviously there's the text that he wants to be a 'good cop' to work against the institution's bigotry, and he displays the trans flag on his work jacket. His quitting the police is a fantastic story beat because it makes a point about the real world while also serving a lot of the analogies going on.

Good cops quit. They realise you can't be a well intentioned cog in a bigoted machine. It doesn't matter if you're a bigot or just taking actions a bigot might because you're working within parameters set by bigots. It's an important message. Within a trans reading of the film, I'd also see this plot moment as Stacy realising he can't protect his trans daughter if he's still playing by the rules of a society that see her as threatening and duplicitous. He's then able to stop seeing her on some level as having killed his son.

They're able to be close again because he has completely rejected the cis culture he was a part of, rather than just decrying the worst parts and slotting Gwen in. She no longer has to worry that he'll rescind his acceptance if she's too trans, and so he gets to know all of her because she can let him into her world without self-editing.

Anyway, those are my thoughts on Gwen after watching Across The Spiderverse two hours ago lmao.

#atsv #atsv spoilers #across the spiderverse spoilers #spiderverse spoilers #spiderverse #spiderverse gwen

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celaenaeiln · 2 months

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in like a one person gets one, who would dicks soulmate (platonic or not idk) be? i’ve asked this to several ppl and the answers are usually wally, donna, or jason though i’ve seen some ppl say slade, roy, and bruce.

Anon your ask has literally been haunting me at night. I thought I knew the answer but then you hit me with a Donna!! But between Bruce and Donna, I can't decide so I'll just present a case for both.

Bruce

Bruce and Dick are soulmates on a cosmological scale. The DC universe ordained them to always find each other because they're quite literally a fated pair.

Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight Issue #23

Bruce: The only regret is that I'm out there alone. It felt good having someone at my back, being part of a team...but no sense wasting time wishing for something I'll never have.

Dick: He's cool, dad...d'you think we'll ever see him when we play Gotham?

The universe literally brings them together no matter the circumstances.

Convergence Issue #4

"The bond between you and Bruce Wayne echoes in every reality."

I don't think there's any stronger evidence for Dick and Bruce being soulmates than this.

But if that's still not enough I have more-

The Multiversity: Guidebook

In Bruce's world he lost Dick and in Dick's world he lost Bruce, but still in the end they somehow find each other. In every universe that has Batman, if someone is his partner it's always Dick.

In the medieval ages world-

Batman: Dark Knight of the Round Table Issue #1

The world of "A Christmas Carol" with Ebenezer Scrooge -

Batman: Noël

In a world where Bruce is a doctor at Arkham -

The Batman of Arkham

Dick is always there as his second.

Here's another interesting but depressing fact: In worlds where Dick Grayson has died as Robin, Bruce Wayne has never taken in another Robin.

This is because on top of the fact that Dick and Bruce as fated to meet, Dick means the entire world for Bruce. Like sometimes Bruce will come across a case with a child involved and the first thing he'll think about is Dick.

Batman: City of Madness Issue #2

Bruce's mind and life is literally consumed by Dick Grayson on a cosmologically spiritual level.

Donna

Donna is Dick's soulmate on a twin-sister spiritual level. Dick and Bruce are two halves of a whole, yin and yang. Dick and Donna though are one person. Their relationship is like taking paint and mixing it together to get something new. Like in those comics where two people look at each other and there's a "zing!" and suddenly it's an instant connection. That's them.

Titans (2016) Special 1

additionally:

Titans (2016) Special 1

New Titans (1988) Issue #89

Dick and Donna have no secrets. They're like a jigsaw puzzle, their pieces fall right into place.

He's always there for her-

The New Teen Titans (1980) Issue #38

They're so special and integral to each other that when an evil witch erases Donna from everyone's memories, there is only one focal point for her. One focal person for her throughout the years. Even though he doesn't remember her, Dick literally goes back in time with his future daughter Mar'i to help Donna, his soul-sister-

The Titans (1999) Issue #25

In every. single. moment of Donna's past Dick appears again and again to comfort her and be her pillar from Robin to civies to Nightwing. In the "Who is Donna Troy" Arc, as the story goes from the origins of Donna to the present, it becomes very clear that Dick is her centerpoint.

They're the definition of soulmates.

She knows him better than anyone else and he knows her. She even had him walk her Donna the aisle for her wedding. He was given that honor because of who they are to each other.

Tales of the Teen Titans Issue #42

I...

just-

Tales of the Teen Titans Issue #50

to love like that...

They're made for each other.

#dick grayson #nightwing #bruce wayne #batman #donna troy #wonder girl #troia #robin dick grayson #dc titans #titans as family #cl anon asks #cl asks #thanks for the ask!#koriandr #starfire

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bonny-kookoo · 10 months

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Jungkook

𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐕𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 [Snippet] 🔞

Jungkook just loves to show you off- because while everyone on his planet might get to look at you, he gets to touch and love you in private.

Tags/Warnings: Alien!Jungkook, Bunny Hybrid!Reader, Extremely flirty Jungkook, suggestive, Major Fluff!, Romance, Established Relationship, JK has tentacles oops, smut

Length: It was supposed to be a drabble but I ended up writing ~2.5k words oops

There is no taglist for this fic

A/N: Boo here you go hybrid alien tentacle porn yay 🥳

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"There you are!" Jungkook sighs in relief, finding you in an isle for fresh produce, staring wide eyed at the round plastic containers filled with cubed fruits. "You want those?" He asks, pointing at one with pinkish and pale yellow cubes. You nod.

"Sweet?" You ask, unsure, and he shrugs, pulling the item down to inspect it, before he nods.

"Yeah, those are sweet- but I gotta…" He mumbles the last part, reading the label a bit further while you begin to wander off again- though this time you're pulled back by his hand reaching out during his task of finding out more about the fruits he's about to buy, to hold onto the hood of your light cotton jacket to keep you close this time and not lose you again in the grocery store. "..safe for human consumption. Hm, there's nothing written about hybrids though.." He mumbles to himself before he pulls out his phone to search online if you can eat those fruits native to his home planet, hand now leaving your hood- one of his extra appendages sneaking out from beneath his shirt to hold onto the belt loops of your shorts to keep you close.

Basilisks- that's what they're called here, which confused you for a good while, until you learned that they actually didn't ever have a true name, but that it was simply an earth-term his kind had adopted to use for them, because it sounded like a similar word which means 'Blood-snake' in his native language. You remember how terrified you were of his uniquely inky-purple colored tentacles everyone of his kind has- mostly though because you met them when he'd used them to defend you both, the images still very vivid in your mind. But these days, you've come to love them as just another piece of him- even though you remember Yoongi, a good friend of his and your doctor currently, explaining to you that they do have their own minds.

'It's actually quite surprising they chose you.' He'd told you. 'I've never seen them so interested in their host's mate.'

Mate. It's still odd to think of yourself as that, though it makes sense with how he cares for and about you.

Jungkook is, nowadays, a bit more careful now with your food for example. He'd hate for you to have another situation like a month prior when you had eaten Nacuri- a vegetable he himself actually likes a lot, but that is apparently not very good for hybrids such as yourself, having caused you some major stomach cramps that pained him to simply watch- and ever since then, he's checking everything twice just to make sure. "-but can be eaten as a snack in small quantities." He reads out loud. "Alright, so only the small box then!" He chirps, putting the big container back to exchange it for a smaller one.

The moment his hands are free again, his inky-purple appendage disappears underneath the back of his shirt again, hiding away as to not get in the way, while he holds your hand as he walks through the different isles at the store.

He notices you yawning a lot more now as you stand on the metal parts of the shopping cart while his chest is warm against your back, and he's learned that's not always just a sign for tiredness in humans and hybrids. "We'll be home soon. I didn't think the line for checkout would be this long.." He tells you, hand running over your hybrid ears, while you suppress another yawn, tears stinging in the corners of your eyes from it. Oxygen levels inside buildings like these are fine for him and his kind- but humans and hybrids like you need a lot more than him to thrive properly. It's why he's got a special air filtering system installed in his home to accommodate for that- to make your life with him as comfortable as he possibly can.

It's the least he can do to show gratefulness for what you've done for him in the past, after all. And also, what kind of partner would he be if he didn't provide the absolute best for you?

He doesn't like how your ears droop after a few moments more- so he searches in your shoulder bag for the familiar pale pink plastic inhaler, setting it up with a few clicks for the proper dosage. "Here. It's almost our turn." He reassures again, offering the inhaler to you which you take with a nod. It'll help you with a bit of extra oxygen until you're out in the open again, levels today high for his kind, but perfect for yours. "Do you wanna eat the fruits in the gardens near the Archives?" He wonders, and you seem to think.

"What about.. those?" You ask, pointing at all the groceries.

"We can eat the icecream there too. I've got a spare blanket we can sit on, in the car." He says, leaning in to rest his chin on your shoulder. "I wanna have some.. cozy time with my baby, what do you say?" He purrs, and you shiver a bit, bunny tail wiggling around.

"Hmhm." You nod. You're not sure what entirely he means by 'cozy time'- because with him, that could honestly mean anything.

Later, outside on the blanket he'd laid out in the park in a more secluded space, you're happily filling your stomach with the fruits he'd bought you. He's watching fondly, because moments like these remind him that the past truly is behind the both of you. You no longer seem scared of anything as long as he's around. You speak freely to him, you're not shy at all, and you've even become a little bit daring these days.

You're no longer the empty, confused and almost soulless hybrid he'd met years back at the facility he'd found himself in. You no longer need to be told exactly what to do or otherwise you'll end up having a panic attack. You've become your own person, independent. You've blossomed, vibrantly.

And he loves it.

He loves you.

Especially now, hours later back at home, groceries still in their bags in the kitchen while you whine pitifully against his lips, with his grin satisfied while he watches you cling onto him. Something you've learned fairly quickly is that his kind is one that treats intimacy a little differently than humans back on earth. There's nothing forbidden or to be shy about for his kind- every type of intimacy or romantic displays of affection are normal even in public- no one stares at a couple kissing or hugging. If anything, people will just instantly believe a relationship is bad if there's no PDA ever between mates.

And sex? That's something sacred, it feels like.

Enio people just like himself find pleasure by feeding off of other's pleasure. They thrive when their partners thrive, they're happy when their partner's happy, and they're sad or in pain whenever their mates are. They also have relationships between multiple people- rarely ever having just one partner. Jungkook however had told you numerous times already that he's completely fine with just having you.

'Why would I ever need anybody else-' he'd said into your neck, '-when you're making me lose my mind every single time we're together?'

He's long lost his shirt by now, his dark purple tentacles already eagerly touching you. They're clearly just as excited as he is every single time you're together like this- and it's honestly almost cute.

Almost- if it wasn't for one of them very eagerly sliding right through in between your legs, back and forth, making you cling onto his arms as he watches you with an intense gaze. His eyes have always been something unique- like two pitch black voids, but only ever if the light doesn't hit them just right, making you able to see the deep red-ish brown and slanted pupils, similar to a feline. But in times like these, in the barely lit bedroom of his, they're just two nightsky colored marbles, reflecting anything like a galaxy.

His tongue runs over his bottom lip, licking over his silver piercings on one side. His grin is that of a predator, watching his prey struggle. But not for it's life- no, you're struggling for entirely different reasons.

"They're horribly impatient." He chuckles when one of his purple appendages moves to instead play with your pearl, before it prods at your entrance, almost as if to see if Jungkook will allow it.

He doesn't.

And it's clear with the way they retreat from between your legs, instead roaming your hips instead, before two of the four spread your legs open for him. That's how it usually goes- a rule set by him. Only he gets to be inside you- gets to claim you like that.

Your underwear is still hanging from your ankle when he pushes himself inside, hands gripping the soft flesh of your waist. He tends to be impatient like this, can't help himself, as he always tends to say to excuse his eager nature. You're perfectly compatible to him, physically and emotionally as well.

You're his, and he just can't help but want to make sure everyone knows that.

The windows are open, and your sure someone way down can probably hear your faint moans, but you can't bring yourself to care about it. "My baby.." he purrs into your neck, where he kisses and sucks his marks, hands gripping your body wherever he can while his tentacles roam around to offer you their own ways of pleasure.

You don't kind the almost sticky substance they begin to leak onto your skin. You've gotten used to it by now.

You're dizzy with everything going on around you. You're unable to quite move much, but you don't have to- both Jungkook's arms and his extra appendages make sure to keep you in place while his hips snap into yours, skin wet as it stays connected to his with thin strands of both your arousal and the sweet smelling precum of his tentacles.

A year ago, you would've tried to hide in shame of it all- thinking you dont deserve nice feelings like this. You would've never thought you'd be loved like this, touched like this.

But he's made that possible. He makes it happen time and time again, and in every touch he places on your skin you can feel the tenderness he has for you in his very soul. He's not lying when he says he loves you. He's not deceiving you with acts of kindness and care. He means every single affectionate gaze he throws your way.

You love him because of that alone.

"My sweet little bunny baby.." he chuckles out of breath as he rolls his hips in just the way to make you arch your back in pleasure, as he leans over you to kiss your lips bright red.

He likes to bite. Likes to pull a little on your bottom lip and likes to get you into any position he sees fit. Sometimes he'll kiss up your back as he takes you from behind- other times like now, he wants to watch your face as you come undone under his steady pace.

It fuels his ego every single time seeing you all fucked out like this.

Every time it's proof that he's a good lover to you.

The moment you come undone and clench around him in waves of pleasure, he's quick to shoot his shot as well- hips stuttering as he pushes himself inside, one of his tentacles sneaking between you both, running over your pearl just to coax another orgasm out of you, thighs trembling a little. You're somewhat glad his basilisks are keeping your body in place, because at this point you're just absolutely boneless.

He's humming in pleasure as he sighs into your neck, body covering yours now almost protectively. 'Shielding' is what it's called- you've looked up some of his behavior just to figure out things you're too shy to ask him yourself. It's an instinctual thing- a remnant of a time long passed when his kind had to protect their mates whenever they were in a vulnerable state.

And then he moves again, tentacles slick with their own arousal as they wrap around your ankles, adjusting your legs as he moves lower, his hands on your hips cherishing your skin it feels like.

And then his mouth is on you, licking you up, probably tasting both you and him in a sinful mixture- but it's another behavior of his that always repeats. He does this every single time, claims it's nothing special and that for his kind, it's basic care after getting his own fill of you. He's constantly surprised at what things surprise you- but then again, you both grew up on entirely different planets, with entirely different culture surrounding you.

So it's normal that some of the things you do tend to catch him off guard as well.

Such as after you're both done showering and cleaning up- he's always surprised how clingy you get after being so closely together just minutes prior. Normally, with his kind, it's like he's recharged his social batteries- now able to go about his day easily, no need for too much physical affection. But for you it seems to be almost the opposite- you love to cuddle and be close to him afterwards, and maybe that's one of the key points that just make you so endearing to him.

He loves cuddling. He loves being lazy with you, especially like this. "I booked our flight to Doria for the end of this cycle." Jungkook hums into your skin, letting you lay almost on top of him, skin still bare. "It's gonna be a long flight, but I already talked to Yoongi about medication in case you feel sick." he reassures you, and you just nod, way too tired to really comprehend what he's talking about. "You're not even listening at all, are you?" He laughs because he knows as well- though he doesn't mind. He knows your body works a bit differently than his own, and knows by now he can be… quite exhausting.

So he let's you sleep, and decides that maybe a short nap isn't the worst idea either-

especially not if he gets to sleep with you in his arms.

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