#so if I learn how to do this for this class from this professor I can apply that knowledge to my thesis

[schlattslambo]

hot for teacher | schlatt 18+

A/n: this has truly been burning my brain. reader is female presenting. I will work on some more gender neutral stuff in the future I promise!! Please enjoy<3

C/w: spanking, name calling (slut), power dynamic (teacher x student), spitting, use of daddy towards the end

——————————

Why you decided to go back to college to get another degree, you have no idea. All you know is that this class is boring as hell and you aren’t sure why it’s even needed for your degree. The only upside was the fact that it was your first class of the day so you could get it over with. Plus the professor was kind of hot too.

It’s a warm day today, way warmer than it should be for this time of year, so you decide to show a little skin to your writing class. Your skirt is just long enough to cover your ass, and your shirt is low cut and cropped. Honestly, it’s like you’re not even wearing a shirt at all.

You walk into the classroom, plopping down in the back like you usually do.

“Ms (y/n),” Your professor says from the front of the room. “Come and see me please.”

You roll your eyes. Mr Schlatt might be hot, but he was strict. He didn’t allow gum chewing, eating or drinking - except water, of course- and locked his classroom 5 minutes after it was meant to start so nobody who was late could get in. He constantly got under your skin about your writing and your formatting, and was seeming to start early with his criticisms of you today.

“Yes, Mr Schlatt?” You ask, crossing your arms.

“Did you leave the rest of your clothes at home?” Mr Schlatt asks, raising an eyebrow.

“No, stupid, this is it.” You scoff.

Mr Schlatt could take a lot, but seeing you like that, acting all defiant and shit pissed him off. He wanted to knock you down a peg or two. His jaw works as he glares at you.

“What do you want?” You ask.

“I wanted to see you because your last essay was all over the place.” Mr Schlatt says. “It had a good foundation, but it could use some work.”

“Did I fail the assignment, or what?” You snap. “I worked hard on that essay!”

“You would receive a 50, which is failing,” Mr Schlatt pauses. “This essay is a large part of your grade, and your grade is already low enough as it is.”

“What??” You yelp. “How could I fail?! This is ridiculous!”

“I want you to redo the essay.” Mr Schlatt adds, reaching into his desk and pulling out a piece of paper and handing it to you. “This is an essay template. I’d like for you to come in during any free time that you have and work on it with me.”

You glare at him. “I’m not redoing that fucking essay.” You growl.

Mr Schlatt’s eyes darken in a way that you’ve never seen before. He takes off his glasses and places them down gently before his eyes go back to you. Your eyes widen slightly at how scary he looks.

“First off, you do not speak to me like that.” Mr Schlatt says. “Second, you will be redoing this essay. It is not a full rewrite, it is just a large edit. If you do not do this, you will receive a zero for it. And that zero would make you fail the class and you will not graduate. Am I clear?”

Your eyes widen. Surely he’s joking. This is college for fucks sake! He can’t have this power over you. Especially over some essay.

“You can’t do that!” You yell.

“I can and I will,” Mr Schlatt says. “Now, from what I’ve learned over the course of the semester is that you typically have some free time around 1pm. I’d like you to come back here at 1 so we can go over this work.”

With that, Mr Schlatt dismisses you. You stomp over to your seat and plop down, taking out your phone. You barely work in the class out of defiance, but catch Mr Schlatt glancing at you. You glare at him and he just shakes his head, leaning over to help another student.

Two classes later, you figure it’s best to just go back to Mr Schlatt’s classroom. You need to graduate. You hate college and want to get out as fast as possible. You barge into the room, making Mr Schlatt look up at you. He heaves a sigh.

You have to be Mr Schlatt’s least favorite student, but he cannot stop thinking about how you need to be put in your place. You are a student, and he is a professor. He deserves respect, and you’re going to give him that respect one way or another.

“Glad to see that you came back,” Mr Schlatt says.

It’s the end of his day and his tie is loosened, his sleeves are rolled up, and his hair is messy. You sit in the seat across from his desk and look at him while he finishes scribbling something down. Turning the paper over, he looks at you.

“Let’s get this over with.” You sigh.

The first few minutes of the edit are simple enough. You sigh and try and add in the notes that Mr Schlatt left for you.

“This is stupid,” You grumble. “Why can’t you just pass me?”

“I want you out of my class just as much as you want to get out of it,” Mr Schlatt says. “But I can’t just pass you because you want to leave. You have to earn that right.”

You sit quietly for a moment, then a smirk breaks out on your face.

“Is there any other way that you could pass me?” You ask, twirling some hair around your finger.

Mr Schlatt’s eyes narrow. “No,” He grits. “Now finish writing.”

Thankfully for him, you don’t notice Mr Schlatt’s pants becoming tighter at the crotch. You’re pushing his limits and if you don’t stop soon, you’re going to be pushed into his office’s supply closet and taught a lesson.

“You’re too hot to be this rude,” You grumble.

“You’re too old to be this defiant.” Mr Schlatt snaps back. “You have two seconds to continue this last paragraph or I’m kicking you out and you can fail the class.”

You look up at him and smirk. “Make me.”

The band holding Mr Schlatt back snaps and he stands up, slamming his palms on the wooden desk.

“Get into my office,” He growls. “Now.”

You jump at the loud noise as your eyes widen. You stare up at Mr Schlatt dumbfounded.

“Did I stutter?” He asks. “Get up and get into my office.”

You stand up so quickly that the chair that you were sitting in nearly falls over. Mr Schlatt leads you into his office and closes the door, locking it. You’re speechless, but the slowly growing puddle in your panties speaks volumes.

With two long strides, Mr Schlatt is inches from your face. He’s so close that you can smell the whiskey that he puts in his coffee to deal with students like you. Your knees nearly give out but you lean against the wall.

“You’ve been pushing me and pushing me (y/n).” Mr Schlatt breathes. “I’m so close to losing control.”

You smile softly. “Then lose control.” You reply.

“You sure about that, dollface?” Mr Schlatt smirks. “I don’t think you’ll be able to handle it.”

“Try me.” You reply.

In a swift motion, you’re grabbed and bent over the wooden desk in Mr Schlatt’s office. He kicks your ankles apart and presses his crotch against your ass, yanking your hair back. You gasp and bite your lip.

“Now, (y/n),” Mr Schlatt breathes. “This is your last chance to back out.”

“No way.” You sigh.

“Stubborn little slut,” Mr Schlatt grumbles, landing a harsh smack on your ass. “Now be fuckin’ quiet. Can’t have anyone hearing what a slut you are.”

Before you can respond, Mr Schlatt’s thick fingers find their way between your legs and to your swollen clit. Your knees finally give out, but thankfully you’re lying on the desk.

“Oh fuck,” you whine.

“You’re already so wet,” Mr Schlatt smirks. “Is this from being a defiant brat?”

You can’t help but nod as he presses against the nub, pleasure shooting through you. You yelp as your shorts and panties are ripped down, exposing your ass.

“I think you need an attitude adjustment, don’t you?” Mr Schlatt leans down, his breath hot against your ear.

You watch as he grabs a ruler off of the desk and you squirm against him.

“No!” You manage. “I don’t need an attitude adjustment!”

Mr Schlatt ignores you and pins your hands behind your back. Your eyes screw shut and you whimper softly. The defiance is gone and your clit throbs as you wait for the ruler to smack your ass.

“Count ‘em for me, slut.” Mr Schlatt says before the ruler comes down on your ass with a harsh slap.

“Fuck!” You yelp. “One.”

Smack.

Smack.

SMACK.

The ruler snaps as tears begin to fall. Mr Schlatt tosses the other piece of the ruler to the side before rubbing a soothing hand on your ass.

“Now, have you learned your lesson?” Mr Schlatt asks, releasing your wrists.

“Mhm.” You sniffle.

“Atta girl.” Mr Schlatt praises. “Now since you took that so well, turn over.”

He helps you turn onto your back and as soon as you’re facing him, he kneels.

“What are you doing?” You ask.

“Rewarding you, the fuck’s it look like I’m doing?” Mr Schlatt asks, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh.

His facial hair tickles slightly, making goosebumps rise on your skin. The closer his kisses get to your center, the more desperate you get. You’re nearly dripping on the desk now and can barely take anymore. So, you grip Mr Schlatt’s hair and tug, shoving his face into your cunt. He grunts in surprise but then starts licking.

He switches from soft featherlike licks to harsh sucking. You look down at the man between your legs, and he’s flushed, eating you out like it’s his last goddamn meal. He’s slurping up your juices and the way his eyes are closed and his arms are wrapped around your thighs bring you closer.

“F-fuck, Mr Schlatt…” You moan. “You feel so good.”

Mr Schlatt looks up at you and his pupils are blown. His normal chocolate brown eyes are nearly black as he pulls away from your pussy, a string of juices and saliva connecting the two of you.

“Daddy.” He rasps.

“Huh?”

“Call me Daddy.”

You smile down and grip his hair, shoving his face back where you need it most. The action makes his cock twitch in his pants and precum dot at his tip. A harsh suck on your clit makes you arch your back.

“Daddy, fuck!” You mewl. “Keep doing that.”

Mr Schlatt groans against you, reaching up and probing your wet hole with his thick finger. He slides it in effortlessly and is quick to find the spot that makes your vision blur.

Your thighs clench on his head as you feel the tightness in your stomach. The grip that you have on his hair is like iron as you grind your hips. Your orgasm hits you like a truck, your hole squeezing Mr Schlatt’s finger like a vice. He allows you to ride it out, the noises you’re making only driving him closer to his own orgasm.

With one minor leg adjustment, Mr Schlatt’s cock brushes against his zipper just right and he cums. He groans against you, hips thrusting into nothing. He’s sure he looks pathetic, but he doesn’t give a fuck. He’s got his hottest student’s pussy in his mouth right now.

He pulls back once you’re done and stands up. You gasp as he grips your jaw with a smile.

“Open.” He orders.

You allow your jaw to go slack and Mr Schlatt allows a big glob of spit to land in your mouth. You swallow, tasting yourself.

“Good girl.” Mr Schlatt praises, patting your cheek.

“Am I gonna pass?” You ask, looking up at him through your lashes.

“We might have to have a few more meetings to go over things, but I think you’ll manage a passing grade.”

You leave Mr Schlatt’s office that afternoon and walk off, your clit still throbbing. You’re sure the next few meetings aren’t going to be nearly as boring as you thought they would be.

[merakiui]

the symptoms of being human.

jade leech x (gender neutral) reader note - being human comes with its fair share of very specific symptoms. or: jade has lived in saltwater his entire life. never has it leaked out of him before. // HAPPIEST OF BIRTHDAYS TO MY BIRTHDAY BESTIE @heyyy11!!!!!! 🎉 many wonderful wishes of health, happiness, and good fortune for you!!!! :D it isn't a lot, but please enjoy this little gift i prepared in celebration!!!

But a mermaid has no tears, and therefore she suffers so much more.

A long time ago, a human penned that line in reference to merfolk and their inability to shed tears. A fact as intimate as that couldn’t have possibly been common knowledge amongst humans, or so Jade assumed every time the story was regurgitated at bedtime. He always did that: apply logic to areas where logic wasn’t needed. His teachers used to tell him, “Jade, sometimes you need to suspend your disbelief in order to immerse yourself in a fictional world.” He could try—and try he did—but he’d find himself lingering on that quote every time.

A slight amendment to that: merfolk can cry and they do suffer, but whether they suffer more is impossible to know without further study.

Jade operates under the notion that there are explanations for everything, even the wildest of lunacy. There is comfort in comprehension. He would spend hours holed up in his sleeping nook, poring over stories and texts on humans and beastfolk. He would compare and contrast them. Can a tearless cry indicate the amount of suffering per species, or is such an abstract concept even remotely quantifiable? Perhaps it is because merfolk cry silently that they suffer. Because there is no one who can hear their weeping in the deep sea. Because there is no physical proof.

It’s easier to recognize the physical signs of grief, for what happens within is shrouded in secrecy, veiled in the depths of the heart.

So when Jade comes onto land for the first time, human skin stretched over a skeleton altered with a potion, every inch awkward and aching, the sea leaks out of his pores. He feels like a pufferfish not yet expanded but on the verge of bloating, deflated and weak, salt still spilling. And he knows it’s salt because he swipes two fingers under his armpit and brings them to his mouth to taste. It’s saltwater.

He later learns, while sitting in Professor Crewel’s class and listening to him drone on about anatomy, that this is the phenomenon known as sweating. Jade sweats when he exerts himself, when his body temperature rises degrees over what’s internally comfortable and he needs to cool down, when he ingests something spicy, when he’s sick with a fever, when he’s stressed… It’s a fascinating facet of human biology he was previously unaware of.

Azul called these peculiarities “symptoms of being human,” and what intriguing symptoms they are! He hopes to experience even more as he completes his education on land, regardless of how troublesome they might be.

Having a symptom of something implies the affected is ill in some way—as if humanity itself is an illness and this human body serves as more of a hindrance than help. Jade will forever be an eel merman, and this body is just a clever cloak crafted to make his life on land habitable. Although there are moments where he thinks his original form would suit a certain task. Like swimming or any sport in the water, really. But he likes to struggle and fail, learning from every human mistake.

These symptoms are not terrible. Not to him, at least.

He meets you in the woods. You’re hunched over the ground, patting a compact lump of freshly disturbed soil. A burial, he thinks, but then he’s not certain. When you fashion a little marker out of sticks and ribbons, it occurs to him that he was right.

“Hello to you, too,” you say, turning to glance at him.

There’s something that stills in the air. A feeling catches and tugs at his heart. He can’t explain it—still can’t even to this day—but something trickles out of his eyes then. A droplet of water and then another and then more until silent streams are falling thick. He blinks until his once-blurry vision clears, only to find you’re looking at him fully now.

Jade gathers the wetness on his fingertips and licks curiously. Salt.

Horrifyingly, he’s sweating from his eyes.

He doesn’t panic. A grotesque part of him wants to know what else these eyes are capable of in this body. 

You draw in breath through your lips. A gasp. “Oh! Are you all right?”

He nods because even if his brain doesn’t understand it yet his heart does.

You are the person he’s going to spend the rest of his life with.

This isn’t fiction, and he doesn’t have to pretend to accept it as his temporary reality just to enjoy the story it promises. He knows. His heart—the eel-mer heart—knows. This salt is a symptom of being human, but a symptom of being a mer is that there is the strongest sixth sense for finding one’s other half.

“Are you sure?” you press, rising to your feet, digging through your bag for tissue. “You’re crying!”

He blinks back at you. I’m…crying.

He’s not sweating. He’s crying.

“Forgive me,” he says even though he knows there’s nothing to apologize for. “My eyes must not be working today.”

A sympathetic smile spreads on your face. “Did you come here with anyone?”

He shakes his head and explains rather simply that he’s come on account of club business. “I’m the only member in my club,” he elaborates unnecessarily, “and so I often come here to hike and forage. I suppose I wasn’t expecting to run into anyone on this route.”

“Club? You’re a student?” Before he has a chance to respond, you add, “No way! What school? I’m from Royal Sword.”

“Night Raven.”

“Whoa! That’s so cool. I’ve heard lots about that school. Oh, sorry, I’m totally chatting your ear off. If it’s not an issue, would you like to walk back together? Don’t take this the wrong way. I’m just worried about you.”

The affable conversation was so smooth Jade almost forgot he’s been leaking—crying—the entire time.

“Why would you be worried? I assure you there’s nothing in this forest that could harm me,” he says, holding a hand over his heart.

As if it isn’t the woods that might hurt him but, rather, the person standing in front of him. He has never felt any need to protect his heart, but now he thinks he must. If he’s to offer it to you in the future, he wants to do so when it is perfectly whole and packed full of happiness.

“Um… Well, I just don’t want you to do anything…harmful,” you say, stringing the words together awkwardly. “People care about you. They’d miss you.”

He glances past you at the burial. Just above, a nest of baby birds chirp noisily. He understands now.

“As it happens, I’m currently quite content.”

“You are?”

He tilts his head at you and smiles, teary-eyed and most likely red in the face.

“I am. Very much so. I’ve experienced another human symptom. I couldn’t be any happier.”

You exhale a quiet, semi-amused breath. “I’m glad.” Your hand is held out next. “I’m (Name). It’s nice to meet you.”

His webless, clawless hand closes around yours. “Jade Leech,” he greets.

— — —

“You look good,” Floyd compliments, watching Jade fuss over himself in the mirror. “Shrimpy’ll think so. And Mama. Pops, too.”

“So everyone,” he replies smartly, his hands shaking as he smooths the nonexistent wrinkles in his suit. They reach for the jewelry strung around his neck. He’s wearing his mother’s pearls. Tradition and memory are twined throughout each one. For every hand that holds this chain, a new pearl will be added. It has been in his family for ages. After today, he’ll add his and the necklace will be a pearl longer.

He feels like he needs to pace up and down a mountain. Like he needs to strip this seaweed-esque suit off and jump into the ocean to feel free of constriction. Clothes are always so…unique. That’s the word he chooses to use. Another symptom, he’s certain, because clothes are to humans as colors are to merfolk. Humans attract each other with fashion styles just as mers flash colors and patterns at those they intend to charm.

“Everyone,” Floyd echoes, grinning to ease the tension. “C’mon. You know everything’s gonna be fine.”

Logically, Jade is aware of that. There were rehearsals and lists and triple-checks. Everything is in order. He’s ready. You’re ready. Illogically, he thinks he’s about to shake out of his skin from either excitement or anxiety or a combination of both.

Floyd’s hand comes down upon his shoulder. He relaxes beneath the squeeze. “You got this.”

“I do,” he whispers, turning away from the mirror with a smile.

He waits for you at the altar. A feeling he knows well enough claws at the back of his eyes. It’s been steadily encroaching since this morning, or perhaps it’s always been there ever since he first met you.

When he sees you, his world comes together and everything is warm and wonderful. There are tears on his face, tracking down his cheeks in hot streaks. It’s not embarrassing even though, somewhat flustered, he mouths to his parents that he’s simply sweating from the eyes. A symptom they’ll soon experience in their temporary human bodies.

Out of every human symptom he’s experienced, he thinks this one is his favorite.

You meet him at the front, and beneath an awning of the prettiest flowers you join hands.

“How do you feel?” you murmur, your thumbs running over his palms.

He’s going to say he feels like his world is brighter and wrapped in silk—like he’s looking love right in the face.

Through his tears, he smiles and says, “Like my eyes are working properly today.”

You giggle around a rising sob. Happy tears, he notes, much like the ones sticking to his face. “Weird. Because mine don’t seem to be working today.”

“A shame. You can’t see how beautiful you are.”

“I trust you.”

“I can’t promise mine won’t sweat halfway through the ceremony, but I appreciate your faith in me.”

“It’s fine. Mine are already doing that.”

And it’s everything to him—you, this union, the tears, these messy, complex symptoms of being human. Everything.

Jade thinks he’d like to rewrite that old quote from his childhood.

But a mermaid has no tears and so that may be true in storybook blue, but it is her heart that weeps for everything she has experienced, is experiencing, and will experience; the good and the bad, the happy and the sad.

[lgbtsana]

LOST IN TRANSLATION

- sim jaeyun / jake one-shot

GENRE: Romance, Enemies to Lovers, Deaf Jake, College Life.

PERM TAG LIST: @run2seob

Jake is a 21 year-old deaf, junior university student, who has trauma from bullying over the fact he can't hear. Y/N is a 20 year-old, freshman university student, who just wants to make friends. She approaches Jake without knowing he's deaf, and he begins to dislike her when she couldn't understand why he was pointing to his ears. Y/N learned through Heeseung that Jake was deaf. Why not learn sign language? Will she be able to befriend Jake or will he dislike her until he graduates?

The alarm in her room, blaring, filling the room with its ever so annoying noises. Y/N's hand slams on the nightstand, searching for the alarm clock desperately, trying to turn it off.

“Just turn off already!” she exclaimed, sitting up and turning it off. A sigh of relief escapes her lips, “Finally…” her voice trails.

“Fuck! I'm late!” She hurries to change her clothes and get to her university, Decelis Academy.

While she was almost always late, she had good grades. Her GPA is what got her accepted. So, learning things felt like a breeze to Y/N.

Arriving to her class, she immediately got scolded by the professor. “Late again, Ms. Seo” Professor Jay remarked, annoyed at the tardiness. But, just glad she made it.

While, Professor Jay seems harsh. He actually is laid back and kind. Always making sure everyone is done with their work, and able to turn it in. The students appreciated it, this allowed them to understand the material better.

“Sorry, Professor Jay…” her voice trailed, “I was up late studying.”

A sigh left the professor's lips, “Sit down, at least you're late with a decent reason.”

A slight smile met her lips, “Thank you, Professor Jay!” she spoke excitedly, walking to her desk chair and taking a seat.

Being a Freshman gave Y/N some advantages, she was able to get off with being tardy, blaming it on ‘studying’ when she already knew the material.

Though, she had some challenges with making friends. They always walk away from her, saying that she was “Too weird.”

It irked Y/N, but she let it go.

After her class ended, she noticed a taller boy in the hallway. Realizing this was a chance to make a friend, she skipped over excitedly and spoke, “Excuse me? Would you like to be friends?”

Silence.

“Ah, ignored again…” she sighed as the boy turned around and jolted in surprise. His jolt made her jump as well, but she was still confused. Why didn't he answer her?

She said the same lines she just spoke, and he tilted his head. Bringing out his phone and typing, before showing her, “I'm deaf.”

Her mouth formed an ‘O’ shape, finally understanding the situation. She still wasn't sure how to communicate with him, and he got annoyed. Huffing and walking away.

Y/N reached her hand out as she frowned. Another chance down the drain.

The night of, she looked up videos to learn sign language. She realized that, to communicate better, she could learn sign language.

Y/N stayed up all night learning sign language. Practicing signs to perfect her understanding.

The next day, she walked up proudly to him and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around and was visibly annoyed by her presence. “My name is Y/N, what is yours?” she smiled as she signed to him. His eyes widening in shock, no one having done this for him before.

“Jake.” was all he signed before quickly walking away.

“Jake, huh…” Y/N murmured, turning on her heel and making her way to Heeseung.

“Hey!” her hands clasped his shoulders roughly, making him jolt. “What the hell!” he exclaimed, “I'm doing an assignment, what's up?”

“Do you know who Jake is?”

“Jake? Yeah, he's the deaf student. Keeps to himself.” Heeseung quickly replied.

“Making more friends is hard, Seungie…” she whispered, visibly upset.

“What happened? Wait- Did you try to talk to Jake?”

“Yeah! But I learned sign language after that to fix things, I think that made him hate me more…”

A fit of laughter began as Heeseung couldn't hold it in anymore.

“Hey! It's not funny, asshole!” she hit his back lightly, making sure not to hurt him.

“It kinda is.” Heeseung spoke plainly.

“No!”

“Yeah!” He laughed heartily.

“I'll get Sunoo to talk to him, he knows sign language.”

“You will? Thank you!” she hugged her closest, and only, friend.

“Yeah, yeah. Now let me do my assignment, in peace.”

Y/N nodded and left the room.

Heeseung was able to get Sunoo to convince Jake to talk to Y/N. It was a long process, but they were able to do it.

Jake and Y/N meet up at the park, signing to each other, Y/N made sure to get every sign correct.

Jake noticed her concentration on making sure she was signing correctly. A chuckle left his lips, watching her eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

“What's so funny?” she signed to him.

“Your eyebrows furrow when you concentrate,” he signed back, “It's kinda funny.”

Y/N pouted, “No fair! I'm trying not to mess up and make you hate me…” she signed and frowned at the end.

Jake's eyes widened, he didn't particularly hate her, he was more weary of her.

“I got bullied for being deaf when I was younger,” he signed, explaining his childhood thoroughly.

At the end, Y/N understood why he was weary. But, he finally knew she wasn't like that.

Christmas came around in a flash, people around campus going home to visit family. Yet, some decided to stay in their dorms. Keeping time to themselves.

Jake texted Y/N that he was going to visit family and came to her dorm room to give her a hug. “Until we meet again!” he signed, making it dramatic as possible. Y/N laughed, “Yeah, yeah, get going drama king!” she signed back, before putting her hands on his back to push him.

He pulled out his phone and texted her, “See you later!”

She looked up from her phone and smiled. Mouthing slowly, “Bye.”

Holidays ended, and Y/N was waiting at the train station for Jake to arrive. She wanted to surprise him when he came back.

As the train came to a stop, the door slowly opened and people from inside came flooding out. Y/N was focused on finding Jake, her eyes searching through the crowd until their eyes met.

Her face lit up as a smile came to her lips. She noticed Jake mouthing, “Can I hug you?”

She gave him a nod as confirmation, and he walked over to her, pushing through the crowd and placing a gentle kiss on her lips.

Y/N's eyes widened as Jake pulled away, “Kiss?” she signed, “I thought it was a hug?”

Jake covered his mouth to laugh, before signing, “I mouthed, ‘’Can I kiss you?”

Y/N shrugged, “Either works!” she signed with a smile. Before giving him a tight hug, pulling away and signing, “Welcome back.”

While flowers take time to blossom fully, so does love. It takes time to learn a language, it takes time for feelings to grow. Love takes time.

[i-worry-about-nothing]

Dead Pixel Scene Sound Aanalysis

This is an essay I wrote for my music in film class about the dead pixel scene. Sorry about the recap in the beginning since my professor didn't know the game, I had to explain the plot.

Hope y'all find it interesting with some of the technical terminology from the class!

Word count: 2,237

Scene: 54:04 to 55:39 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mgcm7Er62LY 

Mouthwashing is an indie psychological horror game by Swedish game studio "Wrong Organ," released in September 2024 and published by "Critical Reflex" with a soundtrack by Martin Halldin. The game follows the story of 5 crew members stranded in a Pony Express freighter spaceship named Tulpar after it crashed. The game follows a non-linear narrative, presenting us with events in the modern day and events before the spaceship crashes. In the modern day, we play as Jimmy, the prior Co-Pilot now ascribing himself the role of Captain after the original Captain was injured in the crash leaving him completely maimed, In the flashbacks we see the events through the eyes of Captain Curly before he was injured. The other crew members consist of Anya, Swansea, and Daisuke. From the beginning of the game, the crew members, besides Jimmy, and the viewer are led to believe that Curly had crashed the ship on purpose. But as the game continues, through the flashbacks we learn that Jimmy was the one who crashed the ship. Slowly we are shown how much of a monster Jimmy is and how he has manipulated the people around him. It’s shown towards the end of the game that Jimmy decides to crash the ship because he discovered that Anya, the ship's nurse and only woman on board, was pregnant after he sexually assaulted her. Curly, trying to keep everything running on the ship as well as being a close personal friend of Jimmy's, talks to Jimmy after Anya informs him that she told Jimmy she was pregnant, and claims to Jimmy that they’ll be able to fix this. Jimmy realizing that he will ultimately not be able to escape his actions once they land proposes to Curly that he should just crash the ship and have them all “Die Heros” saying that if they do land and what happened to Anya comes to light Curly would surely be ostracized as well because he is the Captain, he is in charge of making sure everyone on board is safe. At this, Curly hesitates and Jimmy says he’ll “take care of it”, we see him enter the cockpit, override the autopilot, and crash the ship, Curly realizing the mistake in his hesitation runs to the cockpit to try and stop the course ultimately facing the impact head on leaving him in the state he is in today. Throughout the rest of the game we watch as Jimmy ultimately causes the death of those around him as the crew runs out of supplies and Jimmy refuses to take responsibility for his actions. 

The scene at the timestamp 54:04 to 55:39 is the first time in the game Anya seems to talk about specifically the physical assault she faced at the hands of Jimmy. Now it is important to note multiple factors for this scene when analyzing it. One is that this is not the first time Anya has tried to voice her discomfort to Captain Curly about the actions of Jimmy, we see earlier in the game that she expresses to Curly that she is upset that Jimmy doesn’t take her position as nurse seriously, even making crude sexual jokes about their company mascot during the one on one psychological evaluations she conducts with him. This is important to acknowledge because it could explain why she doesn’t outright state in this scene the harm she is undergoing, instead trying to hint to Curly the emotional and physical distress she is facing. She could feel like her concerns were brushed off once before which led to Jimmy doing even more drastic things such as moving from verbally harassing her to physically assaulting her, so she could be hesitant to be vulnerable and mention her feelings again. The second important thing to note when tackling this scene is due to the non-linear narrative and the fact we don’t get to see the events through the eyes of Anya herself there are multiple different interpretations of where she may be mentally in this scene. Although it is clear that Anya certainly has her suspicions of what has happened and is aware of the pregnancy at this point it could be that she is in a stage where she is just now piecing together all the information. Through multiple pieces of dialogue later in the game, Jimmy himself states that he knows how to make a spiked drink using the ingredients they have on board, he even goes as far as to confidently state that the person the drink is used on will “Have no memory when they wake up and will be perfectly fine.” Since we never are explicitly told the nature in which Anya is assaulted many viewers believe that given the nature of the game and every piece of dialogue having a specific purpose, it could be likely that Anya was drugged and then assaulted by Jimmy and this scene is her trying to voice her suspicions to Curly after she discovered her pregnancy. 

With that established and the heavy nuances of the scene explained the sound design of the scene can be more accurately summarized and analyzed. This scene is only 95 seconds long and although it doesn’t implement as complex of sound design as some other scenes in this game everything is still done with a purpose. At 54:04 the screen fades from Jimmy getting chased by an axe-wielding Swansea to show a much calmer scene of Anya sitting on the couch in front of the screen in the common area of the ship, showing a night sky. Text appears on the screen with an intimidating dramatic noise expressing that the current scene takes place 2 days before the crash. There is no music at this point, the sound consists of an ambient silence and the typewriter-esque noise that is used when each of the characters speaks since the game is not voice acted. The ambient silence continues as Anya and Curly, whose perspective we are now in, discuss how they both have trouble sleeping at night. At 54:26 music begins to fade in as Anya says she enjoys the nighttime window screen and turns her head to face it. It’s interesting to note that in the soundtrack this song is named “What’s New On The Radio” which could be a subtle nod to Anya and Swansea’s playlist being one of the only things that survive the crash later in the game and is the only thing that is ever playing on the radio in the lounge. 

At 54:29 the perspective changes to just seeing the night sky, with slight tearing in the screen showing that it’s only an illusion put on for the crew members to have a semblance of time of day. The music is quite calm and melodic having a relaxing feeling to it as Anya speaks about how she sometimes goes to the common room during the night just to stare at the screen. The song's melody stays in an upturning positive sound as the notes ascend and Anya points out to Curly that there is a dead pixel in the corner of the nighttime screen. Curly says that he can’t see it and at 54:46 the perspective cuts back to Anya as she states that the dead pixel is always in the back of her mind, the music continues its repetitive loop and feels almost slightly uncanny for a second before it changes to a different note when Curly speaks. Curly speaks about how he must not see it because he’s used to seeing the bigger picture and that the single dead pixel doesn’t ruin the illusion. It’s interesting to note that the music’s melody which had been in an ascending pattern since the beginning of the conversation begins to now go lower when Curly says “But maybe I’m just used to seeing the bigger picture.” The music now takes on a much more solemn feeling as Anya asks Curly how many days of transit they still have left and he informs her it is just under 8 months. Anya then asks Curly why he thinks that Pony Express would put locks on the medical bay but not the bedrooms. To this Curly ponders before at 55:30 saying he assumes it is the same reason why they put locks on the cockpit door “Safety”. At 55:32 when Curly says safety the music abruptly stops and the word safety pops up on the screen momentarily with a sudden noise, written in bold white text over and over on a black background while having a glitchy analog TV effect. After the pop-up goes away we are left with the same ambient noise that was in the beginning and Anya’s solemn expression as the scene fades away. 

At the beginning of this scene, outside of the sound effect that plays when the time before the crash is displayed, we are shown the diegetic sound, the ambient noise at 54:04 to 54:25 can be assumed to be what the characters are hearing as it's just a natural droning sound similar to that of an air vent. Once the music enters at 54:26 given its gradual fade in and the lack of acknowledgment from the characters on screen we as the viewer can tell that the song is non-diegetic and being used to give the scene stronger emotional value. When the perspective changes to solely the night sky at 54:29 the song seems quite relaxing and hopeful as Anya and Curly continue their conversation. It seems like a typical conversation as Anya talks about the dead pixel but once the screen cuts back to her at 54:46 she says that the dead pixel “Is always in the back of her mind.” this is when the viewer is being hinted to that she isn’t just talking about a pixel on the screen. In this scene, the dead pixel is a stand-in for Jimmy, no matter what she does even if she tries to ignore it like she has been in the past she can’t ignore what Jimmy has done to her now. Knowing this combined with the repetitiveness of the song until Curly speaks gives an unsettling feeling, much like how Anya must feel being stuck in a spaceship with her abuser. 

When Curly begins to talk about how he thinks the single pixel doesn’t take away the beauty of the display, at 55:02 when he says “But maybe I'm used to seeing the bigger picture.” to Anya, the music begins to go in a descending note pattern taking on a more sad tone from here on out. Curly’s response to Anya at this moment shows his naivety to Anya’s turmoil, as Captain he’s willing to overlook one issue for the sake of keeping the ship running much like he has with Jimmy’s behavior up to this point, not even realizing that Anya has been trying to get Curly to stop Jimmy’s harassment. The music keeps its solemn tone not changing much as their conversation continues, likely mirroring how Anya is feeling. Anya asking how much time they have left on the ship reveals to the viewer the grim reality that because they still have 8 more months she will either have to give birth on board while being the only medical professional present and potentially have to deal with violent outbursts from Jimmy, or she would have to perform a potentially life-threatening unsafe abortion on herself. Anya doesn’t respond to realizing it's 8 months and instead forwards the question to Curly, “Why do you think Pony Express put locks on the medical room door but not in the sleeping quarters?” At 55:32 when Curly finally answers “Safety” a sudden sound effect and visuals flash on the screen immediately ripping the viewer out of the calmer atmosphere the music gave us. We are immediately put back into the cold reality of the droning ambient noise of the ship while we just stare at Anya who does not respond before the scene transitions to the next. The moment Curly says safety was purposely made very dramatic for a reason. Curly once again shows his obliviousness to the situation not even realizing the irony in his statement. To him he doesn’t see why not having a lock on the sleep quarters could be a risk, especially for Anya who is the only woman on the ship surrounded by 4 men. The sudden stop in music and the flash of the word safety all over the screen feels like a slap in the face, much like how it probably felt to Anya knowing that because of the lack of locks, she was left vulnerable and unsafe, and Curly doesn’t even acknowledge that. 

In mouthwashing, sound design is used beautifully both in cinematic scenes like this one and in free-roam gameplay scenes. This scene shows how intricate even the smaller, less complicated audio scenes still have a lot of thought put into how the audio relates to the plot. We’re shown a scene that at face value some people may not even realize what’s being discussed but once you look deeper into it you see the tragic story of a woman desperately fighting for her safety in an environment that often disregards her. 

[dngrs-untld-hrshps-unnmbrd]

Graven Hearts

After being unofficially banished from the Mourn Watch, rebellious Lisbette must recruit one of her former professors, Emmrich Volkarin, to help her defeat two ancient Elvhen gods. Hurt that her favourite professor never stood up for her when she needed him, Lisbette takes delight in provoking the handsome, silver-haired necromancer, perhaps enjoying herself a little too much.

Female Rook | Age Difference | Daddy vibes | low key bratting | Hurt/Comfort | Eventual Smut

Chapter One

The Lighthouse is a sheer delight to Emmrich. The rooms given to him seem to shape themselves around him to his ideals and tastes without him needing to ask. He and Manfredd spend a happy afternoon putting all his things away, and Emmrich makes mental plans for how he may help this charming group of people. They are facing two ancient Elvhen gods, and the task before them is forbiddable. 

Manfredd goes out to explore the lighthouse, and Emmrich sits behind his desk to write letters to his colleagues in the Mourn Watch. How does one post letters in a place like this? He supposed he’d figure it out. 

There’s a soft knock on his door, but before he can call out for the person to enter, the door opens, and Lisbette appears. 

He smiles at her, and opens his mouth to say, “It’s wonderful seeing an old student doing so well,” but the expression on her face makes the words turn to bone dust in his mouth. She’s smiling at him, but it’s a hard, fixed smile, very unlike the friendly welcome he received at the Necropolis. 

But now he thinks of it, Bellara was the one doing most of the talking. Lisbette was merely polite.

Without a word to him, Lisbette takes a long, slow walk around the room. She’s wearing comfortable off-duty clothes, a pale shirt tucked into high-waisted pants. The ensemble is nothing special, but she somehow looks lovely in them. Her masses of curly red hair is down past her waist, and the freckles on her face and glassy green shards in her eyes catch the sunshine.

Lisbette pokes at a skull on a shelf. Examines a bottle. Her attitude is irritatingly overfamiliar, as though she feels she has a right to both examine his things and ignore his presence. She was never rude to him during her student days. Lisbette had been rebellious and provocative on paper occasionally, but in his classes, tutorials, and private meetings in his office, she’d always behaved with manners and respect. 

Emmrich sits back in his high-backed chair and watches her with what he thinks of as his chilliest gaze. Though her student days are over and her relationship with him is quite different, he still expects manners and respect.  

Finally, she saunters over to him, though she still doesn’t look at him. Her fingertips trail across the surface of his desk. “ Coming in here reminds me of being called into your office, professor.”

“How so?”

“I can feel waves and waves of your disapproval, just like the old days.”

“What do you believe I disapprove of?”

Lisbette laughs softly. “Always a teacher, aren’t you?”

“Lisbette. If you don’t want me here...”

“I need you here,” she says with a careless shrug, and perches on the edge of his desk. 

Emmrich opens his mouth to tell her not to sit on his desk, but then closes it again. She wants to provoke him, and he feels certain that he mustn’t be provoked. He supposes she wishes she didn’t need him. Needing someone from the Mourn Watch upsets her after she was unofficially banished from the faction. He feels nothing in particular about that. He wasn’t there when the decision was made, and it’s good for a young person to learn that their actions have consequences.

“You have gathered together quite a team,” he tells her, hoping to change the subject to a topic they can both enjoy. 

“Yes, they’re like family. It’s good to have family around me again.”

Family?

He feels his heart sink. 

Lisbette was found abandoned as a baby in the Necropolis. Like him, the Mourn Watch raised her, and just as it does to him, the Mourn Watch means family. Home. Love. 

Or it did until they banished her.

How would he have felt if the only family he’d ever known shut him out and told him to leave? Has she had one kind word or letter from anyone at the Mourn Watch in the year since?

But Lisbette has landed on her feet, he reasoned. She’s a talented young mage and she’s navigating these unfamiliar waters with confidence and apparent ease. 

All the same, him being here hurts her. Angers her. She doesn’t want anything from the Mourn Watch, but she has no choice. 

He can find a way to win her over, surely.  

In a kinder tone, he begins, “Lisbette, what happened a year ago...”

She scoots around his desk toward him, and then reaches for a book on the far side of his desk. Doing so, she splays herself across his lap in a bewildering manner. His fingers flex on the arms of his chair as he stares down at her. 

Lisbette sits up and pushes her red curls out of her face with a breathless smile. “ Alvarus’ Treatise on the Undead . I’ve always wanted to get my hands on this.”

There’s better light from the window if she’s facing the other way, and she perches on the arm of his chair. Emmrich finds himself with his arm around her, but pulled back as far as he can so as not to touch her inadvertently. She wriggles back, closer to him, making that task difficult for him.  

“ Lisbette, there are chairs for both of us.”

As she turns the pages, she slides further from the arm of the chair until she’s half sitting in his lap. “I’m fine here, professor.”

“Lisbette.”

“Hm?”

“ Lisbette .”

She looks up at him with a dazzling smile, her face just inches from his. “You’re handsome when you’re annoyed.”

“I know what you’re doing. You dislike that you need help from me. You’re provoking me because you’re angry with me. If we could have a mature conversation...”

She blinks innocent eyes at him. “Don’t be silly, professor. I’m provoking you because it’s amusing me.”

Slowly, she sinks even further into his lap. Her bottom feels soft against his bony thighs and very warm. Lisbette rests against his chest, licks her fingertip, and turns a page of the book. 

He grits his teeth. If she won’t speak seriously, he will. “I will speak with the Mourn Watch. You’ve been punished long enough and you should be allowed to return to the order .”

The smile fades from Lisbette’s lips. She reaches up and touches the silver strands of his hair, and then combs her fingers through the locks. Her touch feels surprisingly sweet. 

Then she boops his nose with her forefinger. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve had better adventures since being told to leave, and now I have a Mourn Watch professor all to myself. He’s going to help me save the world.”

He gazes at her, feeling unimpressed by her arch tone and the way she’s touching him. She might be their leader, but he was not her pet.

“How may I be of service?” he asks icily.

She muses on this for a moment. “Do you have any advice for me, professor?”

“Your spells were ragged today. Your staff work was sloppy, and your incantations poorly aimed.”

“You called out Beautifully done, Lisbette at least three times.”

He had, hadn’t he. He was delighted to be invited onto the team, and he’d been impressed and inspired by the leadership his former student had shown. The way she smiled at everyone. Her warm confidence. He’d congratulated himself that he’d been responsible in part for the young woman she’d become, the old fool. 

Emmrich clears his throat. “I must encourage as well as correct.”

She tilts her head teasingly toward his. “Ah, so you encourage me in public and correct me in private?”

“You’re trying to provoke me, young lady.”

Lisbette reaches up and ruffles his silver hair. “I am provoking you. Thank you for the book.” 

She snaps the volume closed, gets up from his lap, and saunters out of his room with an maddeningly hypnotizing sway of her hips. 

Emmrich opens and closes his mouth. Too late, he thinks of something to call after her. “Lisbette! I was reading that book.”

But the door closes behind her, and he thinks he hears her laughter in the corridor. 

__

Oh, Lisbette and Emmrich, you're both in so much trouble. Not the same bit of trouble, but definitely a lot of it, and together. Thank you for reading!

[aro-culture-is]

aro culture is getting really annoyed with the relationships unit in your sociology class because the whole thing is just 100% amatonormativity.

:\

if think your teacher, professor, and/or TAs might be interested in discussing the concept, I have some idea of bringing up the topic?

I'd personally say something like, "Hi, During our section in sociology around relationships, I couldn't help but think it would be interesting to discuss how a sociological theory called "amatonormativity" might relate to these lessons. I gathered a few sources from the professor who coined it, a thesis written on it, and a law review written about the connection between it and laws in the USA. There's some connections between its use in feminist thought and in queer theories, and I'd love to know your thoughts about it. I personally was thinking of when [specific statement] was said, and how I would apply this theory. I hope it's as interesting to you as it is to me."

Coiner's current webpage: https://elizabethbrake.com/amatonormativity/

Thesis: https://vc.bridgew.edu/honors_proj/330/ (click download in upper right hand corner for the PDF, depending on the individual it may be worth downloading and sending that rather than a link)

Law Review: https://uclawreview.org/2022/06/09/amatonormativity-in-the-law-an-introduction/

[gertritude-art]

sometimes when you're not a great programmer and everyone looks at you and goes "i don't know... that's scary" when you want to do something in ren'py you have to get creative and by creative i mean code that would make an actual programmer get mad at you

[roaringroa]

they should make a life where you don't have appointments, work, school and scheduled events every single day for months on end

[girlscience]

the answer to being stressed and depressed is asking for help. the answer to being stressed and depressed is asking for help. the answer to being stressed and depressed is asking for help. the answer to being stressed and depressed is asking for help. the answer to being stressed and depressed is asking for help.

[immamapletreekid]

work anxiety starting before work itself hahahahaahahahahahahhhaha

[strohller27]

.

[frogzedat-thelizardcouncil]

I'm going to scream. Symbolism is in all art. Most all art is in some way a metaphor or trying to tell you something and they communicate that through symbolism among other tools used to express meaning.

That stupid "sometimes the curtains are just blue" thing has ruined people. Everything you see in a work is there for a reason! Every stroke of the pencil, every individual word, and the order they are in was a decision a real human made. They are all important. They all can be used to determine what a work is trying to tell you.

AI doesn't do that. The robot makes the whole image or story haphazardly with no intent other than to have an output for a prompt. It is valueless salad from an algorithm. Artificial Intelligence is a misnomer for whatever ChatGPT and Dall-e are.

AI people: we're just as much artists as you are, you gotta be so observant and go through so many correcting phases for the picture to look good uwu also AI people:

[taahko]

every so often im struck by the memory of one of my college professors getting very angry with our class (art history of pompeii 250) because when she excitedly detailed the ingenious roman invention of heated floors in bathhouses via hearths in small crawlspaces, we asked who was tending the fires. she said "oh, slaves i suppose. but that isnt the point". and we said that it actually very much was the point. she had just told us that in roman society there were dozens of people, maybe hundreds, who spent every day of their enslaved lives crawling in cramped, hot, smoky tunnels to light fires to warm pools of water (which they were not allowed to swim in). how could that not be the point?

she wanted us to focus on the art, on the innovation of heated plumbing, on the tiles and decorations of the bathhouses, and all we wanted to do was learn more about the people under the floors. and she didn't know anything more about that. in fact, she said she thought we were focusing too much on superfluous details.

it feels almost hokey to put too fine a point on the idea im getting at here but i will anyway: There are a lot of people who are still under the floors. all these beautiful, convenient, brilliant innovations of modern society (think fast fashion, chatgpt, uber, doordash) are still powered by people working in inhumane, untenable conditions.

the people who run these systems want you to focus on the good - who doesnt love warm water? - but if anything is going to improve or change in our lifetimes, you need to examine these things with an attentive, critical, and empathetic eye. and for fucks sake stop ordering from amazon

[odysseys-blood]

u ever start piecing together why everything is wrong with you

[communistcephalopod]

🌊 lugias-sopping-anus

Can't stand how people will learn that humans are related to Pokemon and somehow come to the conclusion that different people are different types. That's not how this works. That's not how any of this works.

🍑 pechaberrysoda

there are literally so many fighting type people what are you even talking about lmao

🌊 lugias-sopping-anus

Your genetic make up doesn't just magically change type because you took a karate class. Do you also think your Charizard is a Grass type now because it learnt Solar Beam?

✨ ace-trainer-luna

But aren't Psychic type people a thing? Some humans have telekinetic powers, I'm pretty sure there are a few gym leaders who have them. There are even rare cases of children born with psychic abilities.

🌸 cynthiasfuturewife

that's still just learning moves

🌌 mistyterrain

As an actual Psychic type, this post is really disheartening to see. The fact that people who still refuse to acknowledge the existence of psychics are so common is just shocking. We exist!

☣ deathtounova

no one's refusing to acknowledge the existence of shit, you just don't know how types work

🌌 mistyterrain

The sheer ignorance on display here, it's obvious you're just mad you're a normal type lol.

☣ deathtounova

how bout i karate chop your ass and we'll see how "not very effective" it is

🌌 mistyterrain

Typical physical attacker brutishness, resorting to violence as usual

🦧 return-to-mankey

didn't you claim you manifested the kyogre disaster in hoenn?

⚡ electrictypesfuckyeah

WHAT

🥀 cradilyzone

Actual professor here! Genetically, all humans are Normal types, though some of our relatively recent ancestors were Psychic. Part of what let us succeed as a species was reutilizing the brain power originally used for psionics to language and tool use. We do still have some vestigial psychic power that can be trained, though it's quite weak compared to most Pokémon. As for those born with psychic powers, this is considered nowadays to be like an egg move, passed down from parent to child. And no, obviously learning Fighting moves doesn't make you a Fighting type, there is no way for a human to change their type.

🌔 hexmaniac

my grandma became a ghost type

🔶️ bigjiggly

I-

🔞 mega-miltank

What about swimmers though, they're water type, right?

📀 HM-69

did you even read the post

🪴 n-did-nothing_wrong

Are we all just ignoring OP's url?

🌊 lugias-sopping-anus

Team Plasma apologist blog, opinion discarded.

🛗 mostlymukposts

This post single handedly evolved my Porygon-2

[snowsinterlude]

need someone older.

(teacher!coriolanus × student!reader.)

summary: a teacher can do a lot in private lessons.

c.w: reader is 19 for repeating a year, age gap (coryo's 29), fingering, tummy bulge, heavy smut, edging (f. recieving), overstimulation, stuffed panties, mild public sex, petnames (coryo calls reader bunny, pet, good girl.), reader thinks coryo is married so . cheating implications, marriage proposal

being a dumb girl was something you tried your best to do ever since you repeated the first year of high school, watching all your friends graduating before you was something you weren't proud about- not for them, but for you. you were supposed to be by their side.

thankfully, you had your professor, coriolanus snow. god. he was the only reason for you to pay attention to class (or at least try to), you were hungry for his approval. for you to be called a "good girl", and be said that you've done well in your tests? yeah, you were willing to do anything for that.

when he offered you private classes, you said yeah without even thinking much. you needed to learn, and spending more time with him was something you craved for. the ring on his finger? fuck it. you wanted it. you deserved it. more than his wife – if he had one.

you've been day dreaming about it constantly, eyes always searching for his on every class you had with him, and he would keep that smile painted on his face, not wanting anyone to think you were the reason for him to be smiling, even if you were, the didn't need to know about it.

"bunny," he voiced, leaning on your desk and taking advantage of the fact that you both were on the library, every student on the school had gone home and the teachers had gathered to go to a nearby bar. "stop looking at my dick now, will we?" he said, chuckling at you.

"huh?" you asked, finally waking to your reality.

"you need to learn that if you don't want to repeat a grade again." he said, sitting by your side, his hand holding your thigh. "you don't want to repeat now, do you?" you shaked your head negatively, and he loved seeing you like that, shy as a kitten even if you usually had his dick on your mouth when that used to happen. "c'mon, don't look at me like that. we have to put these things on your brain if you want to graduate already." he said.

his fingers slowly travelled all the way up on your panties, finding a small damp on the fabric, he looked at you with his usual smirk, his pupils blown already from everything he was about to do to you.

and now you looked like a mess. hands gripping on the library desk as your legs trembled with the aftermath of every time you almost came. you counted six till now, crying from how good it felt having him behind you, his fingers thrusting lewdly into your cunt.

"c-coryo- t-teacher, please. please stop it, i have to cum- i can't hold it in anymore!" you begged, clenching as his fingers rubbed deliciously on your clit after thrusting so many times inside you.

"well, it's not my fault, pet. you're the one getting your questions wrong." he said, pulling his dick to tease the core of your pussy, your cries only making him feel and making his ego bigger. "tell me, baby, how do you want it?"

"q-quick, pleease! if it get slower i-i think i'll die!" you said, legs spread as your skirt revealed a small part of your ass.

"oh, c'mon, i'm sure you can take it, baby" he purred in your ear, the tip of his cock teasing your pussy and slapping your clit slightly, making your body jolt slightly. you bend over, your elbows being now your main support at that table.

"please, teacher..!" you begged. but he didn’t even bat an eye to your cries, slowly sliding his dick inside you, and fuck, you both fucked on wednesday, how come he always seems to stretch you up so good? the pace he choose to torture you with was so slow, making sure you felt every inch of his dick inside you, stretching you, making you his. "please, don't do that to me. j-just ask something easier!" you cried.

"easier? okay... let's see" his hips bucked slowly into yours, your pussy gushing around him as if your own body needed that- as if he was the hair you breathed for. "what's your age, babe?" he asked, a playful tone being cast as his free hand massaged your boob, pinching on your nipple and freeing both your boobs from it's cage.

"n-nineteen." you said, and he laughed again as he said: "good girl, you're right.", his hips giving you a powerful thrust that made you cum with only that, making you cry from your own humiliation.

"ah, bunny, don't tell me you came already only with that." he said, joking with your face as you cried.

"i'm sorry- too good. i-it was too deep." he laughed, pulling back and thrusting deeper again, this time, you made sure not to cum again, edging yourself as he changed your position to put your leg over his broad shoulder, his dick making a bulge appear at your tummy. he loved that view- much more than he loved you.

"look at you, taking me so well. how does it feel, baby? use one of the words we learned at the literature class," he grunted your tightness coating his dick with your own juices, "use them, even if it's just two, and i'll let you cum."

"tortuous," you begin, crying from how good it felt, from how dumb you were getting. "spiralling, it's twirling my insides!" you cried. and he smilled, kissing and licking your tears before placing the most gentle kiss on your lips, pouding faster into you as you closed your eyes shut, moaning and grunting from all the pleasure- and yet you tried your best to avoid moaning only to hear his moans and the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh.

"good girl." he said, his hands holding your hips as he fucked you. it felt truly out of your world experience. his phone ringed just at the right moment he hit your cervix. "t-teacher, your phone- it can be your wife." you said, earning a frown from him as he turned the phone off.

"wife? baby, i'm single." he said, chuckling at you. "you've been walking around school with my cum stuffed in your panties even thought you thought i was married?" he pounded into you with a more quicken pace. "god, what a dirty girl you are. fucking around with married teachers." he teased you.

you felt a heat on your cheeks that you never felt before. god, how much would you end up humiliating yourself? "b-but, fuck! y-your ring-"

he showed you the ring. taking it off his finger with his mouth and sticking his tongue to you, an invitation for you to take the ring.

"keep it." he said once you took the ring

"but- s-sir, i-"

"mm, bunny, i'm a faithful man." he said. "and right now, i'm faithful to you." he said. you squirmed deliciously at the feeling of his cock filling you up again, his tip on your cervix as you came again, and soon enough, he came too.

he helped you get dressed into your panties again and straightned your clothes, a cast kiss on your lips before he smiled sweetly at you, putting the ring on your middle finger.

"i hope you know what that means."

"i-i do." you said, for both questions heavily implied in that context.

"great. then make sure to graduate, bunny." he smiled. "i'm sure the honeymoon will be great."