#words not my friend today but this is the gist

[violeteyedkiller]

hc + homocide

SEND ME HC + A WORD AND I’LL WRITE A HEADCANON ABOUT IT REGARDING MY CHARACTER.

He does have a criminal record for homicide. However, his criminal paper trail is NO WHERE close to the actual numbers of lives he's taken. But even with his track record, and his usual MO of roaming around the world, and moving on just before the authorities caught on/got too close, there were some times where, either he got too sloppy, or got too bored and decided to LET officials apprehend him just to see what happens (and maybe get some easy feeding in. you know. 'you're locked in here with me' type mentality)

Rambling all to say that even though he's mellowed out (mostly in his main verse), never forget that killing is and always will be a part of Stan's history.

[rubberbandballqueen]

we finally got got the camp and playground rules posters i asked my boss to get printed, and someone redid all my beautiful and thoughtfully-made typography... :'c

[a-soft-fluffy-girl]

TL;DR: Steam just made library sharing so much fucking easier and so much fucking better. Instead of login-trading, it's just a simple goddamn invite.

Read this. Really. It's a good read. Because it shows that, full-stop, Valve isn't just doubling down on their stance to make sure that people can and should be able to share their copies of digital goods as easily as they can physical ones, but they're making it better and easier than ever.

But you know how Steam allowed you to, with either friends or family, link accounts with another person to be able to establish an ability to share game libraries with one another? The general gist of Steam Family Sharing was that, with a limit of five people plus you (six in total) on a limit of ten computers total could share account access to willingly mix your libraries. You could play theirs. They could play yours.

This was a huge boon. It was meant to emulate sharing a physical copy of a game. A way to allow children to play games their parents or siblings had bought without having to fork over double the cash to buy it a second game. But it had some major limitations and drawbacks, and was archaic to use.

If a person did not share the same computer, you had to manually log into that computer to give it and the accounts on it access. This wouldn't be a problem if both accounts were used on the same computer, but many households (and astronomically more family and friend groups) had multiple computers, all used by different people.

If that computer, at any point, was hard reset to any point before the sharing occurred, you lost access. And had to do the whole process again. This was also an issue with computer transfers. The whole kit and kaboodle needed to be redone on upgrades. On top of that, the old computer is now just dead weight that you may not realize you have to manually revoke access to.

Putting your account information on another person's computer opens up security issues. They could, intentionally or accidentally, land themselves on your account if the login information was stored. Which could easily lead to purchases or bans you did not want to happen.

If anyone was, at any point, playing any game on their own library, you had no access to their games. Even if it was a totally different game, you had to wait your turn as if waiting for their computer to be freed up to sit at. (Admittedly this is kind of like the "mom said it's my turn on the xbox" meme, but hey, kinda archaic.)

You could not choose whose library you accessed a game from. Not at all. It always prioritized the first library it gained access from, DLC access and multiplayer be damned. If another friend you were accepting games from had more DLC? Too bad.

And yet here we are. Steam Families Beta fixes EVERYTHING about the above issues. By just going through Settings > Interface > client Beta Participation and clicking onto Steam Families Beta? You get:

No more login sharing. No more computer links. You can now choose which person's library you borrowed from. And you can play any other game from someone's library, even while they're in-game. It just needs to be a different game than what they're playing.

Pick five people. Invite them to your family. And now everyone has access to everyone's library. My goddamn library went from 150-ish to almost a goddamn thousand in ten minutes of setup.

Account sharing and password sharing are dirty words that "lose" billions of dollars. Netflix, Hulu, Amazon, Max. They aren't game storefronts, but they still allow you to access massive libraries and scream like you murdered their firstborns for daring to share your password with your mother after you moved out.

Microsoft tried pushing to demonize and undercut used games sales and borrowed copies of physical games. Remember the first attempt to reveal the Xbox One? People forget, but these vultures tried to make an always online console that checked to see if you were the account that owned the game, even if you had a physical disc, and prevent access to the disc's contents if you weren't the original downloader.

Valve walked the fuck up. Valve tapped the mic. And Valve dropped the fucking thing right onto the ground with one feature's revamp.

About the only issues I can see with this are twofold:

If someone sharing your library gets banned from a game's servers... so do you. No one else in the family does, but the both of you do. This is... rather unpleasant, because banhammers can be dropped quite frequently by mistake. I'd urge Valve to rethink this one, but I see the logic: don't cheat and effectively bite the hand feeding you. Still making me side-eye that, though.

If you leave a family you've joined? You have to wait a YEAR to join a new one. It's to prevent people form jumping ship to another group and screwing over who's in the former one in the process, but a YEAR? OUCH.

Problems aside, though... it's probably the biggest fucking power move I have ever seen a media distributor make in the current economic climate. It's the kind of thing that would let so many new games be available in a way that's easier than ever. Just a few clicks to send or accept an invite, and bam. Permanent access to dozens or even hundreds of new games with so much more freedom than earlier drafts of the system.

It's the kind of thing that slaps you in the face with positivity after so many Ls from the games and media industries. And I'm all the fuck for a W like this.

[snoowpee]

all mine - s.jy

Pairing ⇾ bestfriend!jake x bestfriend!reader

Genre ⇾ smut, a little bit of fluff

Warnings ⇾ unprotected sex (you know you don’t want kids!), making out, slight food play, marking, ass slapping, pussy slapping, name calling (whore), dirty talking, fingering, mentions of nudes & masturbation, oral (f. receiving), face riding, filming, hair pulling, jerking off, riding, possessiveness, choking. I might’ve missed something but that’s the gist of it, enjoy!

Summary ⇾ being best friends with jake is all fun and games until you get jealous with how sociable he is with other girls.

Word count ⇾ 4.4k words

Playlist ⇾ Summer Walker (feat. Jhené Aiko) - I’ll Kill You.

Science class is boring the hell out of you. You watched the clock on the wall, counting down how many more minutes of suffering you had to endure. Great! fifteen minutes left. I’m going to lose it, if this class doesn’t end soon. You grumbled. Putting your head down on top of your folded arms.

You turned to face the male seated beside you, when you felt a hand grazed the left side of your waist. “The work isn’t gonna do itself,” Jake quietly whispered, not wanting to disrupt the class, he smirked, eyes twinkling with mischief. You discreetly flipped him off. Jake bit his lips to prevent a grin, but failed to do so.

“Do you have soccer practice afterschool?” You asked, changing the subject to suppress the rising thoughts in your head.

“Yeah,” Jake nodded.

“Bummer, I was gonna ask you to re-teach me the whole lesson today,” Jake knew you meant a whole different thing by the way your eyes lit up.

“I can swing by your place after practice, how does that sound, princess?” Jake whispered, mouthing the pet-name, careful even in his hushed tone to not let anybody hear. 

“Sounds good to me, Jakey,” you shrugged. He scoffed at the nickname while your mouth stretched into a smile.

The clock ticked a few more times until the bell finally rang, indicating that class was over. You and Jake both packed your stuff, heading in different directions after. Just have to get through English class. You grumbled again, wanting school to end, so that you could lay down on your bed.

English class wasn’t so bad for you, knowing that you had friends to keep you entertained during it. The whole day, you assumed that time seemed to pass by very slowly, but to your surprise, it flew during English class.

After bidding goodbye to your friends, you made your way to the school’s field, where Jake was at. As soon as you realized that the weather was pretty nice, you decided to watch his practice for a bit.

When you reached the field you saw Jake and his friends talking to a group of girls. You recognized that a few of the girls are from your History class, and some are friends with your friends.

As you sat on the bleachers, Heeseung and Sunghoon noticed your presence, excusing themselves politely before taking long strides towards you.

“We felt bad seeing you all by yourself, so we wanted to keep you company while Jake’s getting his cock wet.” Sunghoon snickered at Heeseung’s remark.

“Man, you gotta see how many of the girls are asking for his socials. Man’s famous,” Sunghoon said as he took a seat beside you, Heeseung following ensuite.

“It must be so tough to be friends with a whore,” Heeseung feigned sympathy. Before you could respond with a witty remark, a familiar voice spoke.

“You better not be hitting on my best friend!” Jake shouted from where he was standing. Heeseung and Sunghoon bursted out in fits of laughter.

“No way, he’s still calling you his best friend?” Sunghoon teased. “Damn, I wouldn’t be calling you that if I were him, especially after blowing your back,” Sunghoon gave you a knowing look, you shrugged.

“I don’t know, Park. I don’t kiss and tell,” you teasingly smiled at him.

“You two need to get this shit sorted out…” Heeseung butted in. “…cause from what I’m seeing, you two are basically best friends who are lowkey fucking each other, but sometimes you two act like you’re in a relationship, and it’s madly confusing. I don’t mean to pry, but trust me it’s that obvious.”

“You should tell your buddy,” you shrugged again. “I know what I want. I’m not too sure about your teammate, though.” 

All three of you turned to look at the soccer coach, your talk being interrupted by hearing a whistle blow.

“I’m pretty sure he’ll figure it out…” Sunghoon stood up. “…or maybe he did already.” Sunghoon said before he and Heeseung both waved goodbye to you.

You watched as the whole soccer team gathered, in the form of a circle, to debrief the events that took place from their last game, which didn’t take too long. 

When the coach ordered the team to warm up, your mouth watered at the sight of Jake’s hot, focused expression, eyes blazing with competitiveness. 

Afterwards, the team was split into two groups, one group wore a green mesh pinnie while the other wore a blue mesh pinnie. You heard the whistle blow again, signaling the start of a practice game. It took awhile for the game to end but you couldn’t deny that it was a little bit entertaining.

Once boredom overcame your senses, you fished out your phone, texting Jake to let him know that you were leaving already. You made your way to where your car was parked and drove home, which didn’t take too long. 

When you arrived at your place, you changed into comfy clothes, before deciding to take a nap.

You woke up to a blanket of darkness surrounding you. You reached for your phone to check the time, seven thirty, Jake was surely done with his practice by now. You unlocked your phone to entertain you while you wait for Jake to arrive.

You were scrolling through Twitter when you heard your bedroom door swing open, “Hey princess…” Jake’s voice was husky, he sighed audibly. “…practice was rough today.”

You paused, Jake had his back facing you, his upper body naked, with a towel around his waist, his black hair a little wet, probably from the shower he just had. He smelt just like you. 

“Where were you?” you had to know if he took a shower at your place again. Jake turned around to face you, whilst your eyes wandered to admire his broad shoulders and his toned abdomen, all displayed in front of you. “I mean, when did you get here?” You cleared your throat.

“Like what you see?” Jake bit his lips while smiling. 

You threw your phone to the side and walked up to him, you grabbed one of his shirts from his duffel bag, shoving the shirt to his face. Jake chuckled whilst leaning in to wrap his arms around your waist, burying his face where your shoulder and neck meet. You squirm under his touch, feeling his wet bare skin against the fabric of your shirt, his breath hits the skin of your neck and you feel him pressed a kiss on the said area. 

“I got here earlier, I didn’t want to wake you up, though. You looked so pretty sleeping,” Jake’s hands traveled down to grope your ass, he playfully slapped it, rubbing it in a circular motion after. “Did you get a new body wash?” Jake kissed your jaw, you hummed in response. “I like it, it smells good.”

“Yeah? You better not finish the whole bottle before I try it,” you teased, kissing Jake’s damp hair while he giggled.

“I’ll try not to,” Jake sighed, inhaling your scent after, your hands busy playing with his wet hair.

“I want ice cream,” you wrapped your arms around his neck. “Get dressed, Jakey,” you pinched one of his cheeks.

“What the princess wants, the princess gets,” Jake saluted, pulling himself away from you to grab his clothes. He gave you a look whilst you stood there.

“What?” you asked confused.

“Are you gonna watch me get dressed?” Jake asked.

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” you shrugged.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, princess,” He let out a breath, you snickered.

“I’m just kidding,” you sickeningly smiled at him as he rolled his eyes.

Before Jake can remove the towel around his waist, you turn around and lay on your stomach, busying yourself with your phone. After a while, you felt Jake slapped your ass, catching you off guard.

“Let’s go,” Jake hooked his arms around your waist, lifting you up with ease.

“I’m driving!” You said attempting to reach for Jake’s car keys, his arms around your waist preventing you to do so.

“No, you’re not,” Jake pecked your lips as you pouted, glaring at him. “C’mon, let’s go,” Jake intertwined his hand with yours, leading the way to his car. You tried getting in the driver’s seat before Jake, but he locked the car before you could open the door. “What a stubborn girl,” Jake shakes his head, smiling at your pissed expression.

“Please…” you drag out the word, putting your hands together, while you exaggerate your pout. Jake thought you were the cutest.

“Tough luck, princess,” Jake opened the car door to the passenger seat, motioning for you to get in. You sighed in defeat, rolling your eyes at a smiling Jake before you got in. 

Jake got in the car, turning on the engine right after, he drove to the direction of the nearest fast food chain that serves ice cream, pulling up to the drive thru to order for you. 

“Can I get one regular oreo ice cream? Yeah, thanks,” Jake drove ahead, the car halting a few moments after. 

Jake rolled down the car window, tapping his card on the machine, he rolled up the window handing you the cup of ice cream.

“Thanks Jakey!” You beamed upon eating a scoop.

“Nah babe, I want a kiss,” he smiled playfully as he pulled out of the parking lot, his right hand fell on top of your left thigh. You leaned in, pecking his lips.

“Satisfied?” you raised an eyebrow.

“Nah,” he steered the steering wheel with one hand, the car stopped at a stoplight and he looked at you with a teasing smile. He bit his lip trying to suppress it, but failed. You wanted to slap the eat-shiting grin he had on, losing it when his tongue darted out to lick the corners of his lips.

“You don’t wanna get on my nerves right now, Sim.” He lightly laughed at your ‘threat’ while you busy yourself with scooping the ice cream, feeding it to him after.

“Where do you wanna go, princess?” Jake asked, squeezing your thigh, eyes focused on the road.

You ponder for a while, “Any ideas?” you asked him.

“We can stop by the park? Go straight to your place, maybe watch a movie? If you’re up to drink we can go get liquor? I don’t really know, princess. It depends on what you want to do.” Jake’s eyes go back and forth between you and the road.

“Let’s stop by the supermarket,” you mumbled, mouth full of ice cream. Jake nodded, driving to the direction of the nearest supermarket. 

Jake spots a vacant spot, parking the car, when you’ve reached the parking lot of your destination.

You unbuckle your seatbelt, climbing onto Jake’s lap. “What are you up to, princess,” Jake chuckled as you straddled him.

“Nothing,” you mischievously smiled at him. 

You pressed a kiss on his lips, pulling away before he gets the chance to explore your mouth with his tongue. “Not so fast, Jakey,” you proceed to eat the remaining ice cream.

“You’re such a tease…” Jake cheekily smiled, “…Do you really want to go to the supermarket?” Jake’s hand caressed your skin underneath your shirt. You shivered due to his cold fingers. Jake found your reaction amusing.

“Well you weren’t gonna pullover when I told you to! What was I supposed to say?!” You reasoned out, Jake snickered. “Can I please drive?” you begged.

“Why do you wanna drive so bad?” Jake rests his head against your shoulder.

“There’s no special reason, I just wanna drive,” you played with his fluffy hair.

“Sorry, princess. Answers still no,” Jake said, you pulled on his hair so you could look him in the eye.

“I will ride your face, if you let me drive,” you deadpanned.

“Tempting, but nope,” Jake pecked your lips, your tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip. Pulling away from him to scoop the ice cream, feeding it to him. Once he had the ice cream in his mouth, you kissed him again, with your tongue exploring his mouth. You can taste the sweetness of the oreo ice cream against his tongue, as the mixture of his drool and the melted ice cream dribbles out from the corners of his mouth.

You placed the cup on the cupholder, your arms wrapping around Jake’s neck to pull him closer, while Jake does the same but with your waist. You both fight for dominance for a while, Jake losing as you grind down on him. You pulled away to lick the dripping drool on the corners of his mouth, Jake groaned as you pressed down on him harder.

“You’re so messy, princess,” Jake bites your collarbones.

“That’s how you like it,” you whispered into his ear.

“Alright, you’re driving,” Jake finally caved in, he sighed as you squealed. “But no over-speeding!” Jake pinched your cheeks.

“I don’t do that!” you defended yourself. Jake gave you a look. “That was one time, Jakey!”

“Sure, princess. What about the other day? Or the day after we went to that party? Last week? When you picked me and Jay up from the mall? Or when you drove us to school that one day?”

“You’re way hotter when you have your mouth shut, you know?” you made a face, Jake looked at you unamused. “Ok, you made your point. I won’t do it again!” you rolled your eyes. “Now, move!” Jake dramatically sighed again.

After Jake moved to the passenger seat, you drove all the way back to your place. 

It was safe to say that you made it alive, miraculously without speeding.

You turned on the tv in your bedroom, sitting down on Jake’s lap, while he lay down with his head against the headboard while he had his right arm wrapped around you. As you try to pick a movie to watch, Jake was busy texting his friends, lightly laughing from time to time.

“Hey, man,” Jake laughed. Is he serious right now? you glanced at him but he was too busy to even notice. 

“Yeah, I heard. No? Wait, what? You’re kidding?” Jake continued talking through the phone. 

You can hear Sunghoon’s faint voice, explaining stuff you didn’t care about. You stood up and peered at Jake. He didn’t even notice. Let’s see if he could keep this up. With that, you discarded your shorts, leaving your purple laced panties on, one of Jake’s favorites.

You climbed back on top of him but instead of sitting yourself on top of his lap, you moved up so that you’re sitting on his chest, making sure to arch your back so he got a view of your ass. This time Jake did notice you, his hand caressing and groping your ass despite talking to Sunghoon. You jut out your ass so that it’s all up in his face, shuffling around to find a more comfortable position. 

Once you found yourself comfortable, you had your head rested on your folded arms on top of Jake’s abdomen, your legs folded on either side of Jake, with your ass way too close to Jake’s face much to his liking. 

You pull on the strings of his sweats, continuing to look for a movie to watch. You felt Jake pull you closer by your waist, pressing a kiss on your inner thigh, you groaned as he bit your asscheek after.

Jake bit his lower lip, trying to focus on what Sunghoon was saying. He was well aware that you're pining for his attention but he couldn’t hang up on Sunghoon since he was saying such interesting things. 

Jake pushed his thumb between your clothed folds, feeling the wet patch on the fabric grow, you whimpered in response to his touches. You moaned when he pulled your panties upwards, creating a friction in between your folds, stimulating your clit with the fabric rubbing against it. Jake does this for a while, leaving some bites on the flesh of your ass as he did so. At his actions, you let out soft moans loud enough for him to hear, but not loud enough for Sunghoon to hear on the other line.

You audibly gasped when you felt Jake rubbed your clothed clit, jerking your ass back to feel more of him. You hear him chuckle, not sure if it’s because of what Sunghoon said or your reaction. Jake pinches your clit, pulling it and twisting, leaving you breathless. He slaps your ass, gripping the soft flesh to spread your ass apart.

“Hey, man, listen. As much as I love hearing how Jay got himself into some deep shit, I have a really important task at hand,” Jake pushed your panties to the side, he sighed when he saw a glob of arousal drip down from your hole to your folds.

“Yeah, is your best friend being needy right now?” You hear Sunghoon say on the other line.

“Fuck off,” Jake simply said, you heard Sunghoon laughed before a beeping noise indicated that the call was over. 

Jake threw his phone to the side, he pulled you impossibly closer to him before speaking. “I can’t even talk to my friends without you feeling the need to pull shit like this?” Jake slapped your cunt, a fresh glob of arousal dripping out of your hole from the action. “My cute little whore, running around impatiently wanting to get fucked,” you mewled when Jake shoved his thumb in and out of you. “Don’t I fuck you enough? You want me to always fill you up with my dick?”

“I don’t know, Jakey. You tell me…” you breathlessly spoke, “…Do you always have to look for new bitches to fuck? Knowing you jerk off to the thoughts of me wrapped around you? Knowing how good my mouth feels wrapped around you?” you hear Jake groan, his cock stirring up in his sweats, visibly getting hard.

“Fuck,” Jake bit his lips, replacing his thumb with his index and middle finger.

“You always have to call me late at night, when you’re so horny and desperate to get off? When, you have to send me pictures of your dick, begging me to do something about it? All those videos of you jerking off and putting on a show for me?” You reached for Jake’s wrist, pulling his fingers out of you. 

You leaned all the way back until you felt Jake’s plushed lips against your folds. You moaned when Jake licked your folds, tongue dipping in your hole a couple of times before licking your clit after. 

“You don’t think I know how you moan my name when you’re all alone humping your pillow? Or how desperate you sound when you whine out my name when you touch yourself?” you grind down on Jake’s tongue, his nose hitting your clit.

“You’re so hot, princess,” Jake said against your cunt, words muffled, he hugged your waist, shoving his lips against your folds.

“Right there, Jakey,” you moaned, toes curling with how good Jake was eating you out. You turn your head to the side, seeing how Jake was holding onto your waist and how he had his head buried in between your legs. The sight looked so hot. You reached for your phone, clicking on the record button before zooming in on the mirror showing the view of Jake hugging your waist while he ate you out. “Say hi, Jakey,” you bit your lips when Jake slapped your ass.

You fully sat up to sit directly on Jake’s face, both of his hands gripping your waist, you reached back to gripped his fluffy hair, pushing him closer to your cunt. You point the camera down, showing Jake under you, licking your folds and sucking on your cunt.

“You’re doing so good for me, Jakey…” the grip around your waist tightened. 

Your moans got louder when you neared your climax, seeing white as you spilled all over Jake. He helped you draw out your climax by licking you clean, pulling off of him when oversensitivity reached your senses.

Jake looked like he came out of your biggest wet dream, his swollen lips and chin shiny from the mix of his saliva and your release, fluffy hair all messy.

“Take your clothes off for me,” you film Jake following your orders without protest. He took off his shirt, throwing it to the side, he did the same with his sweats and underwear, leaving himself bare. “Show me how you touch yourself, Jakey.”

Jake looked at you then at the camera, he gripped the base of his cock, slit leaking beads of precum. He spat on the tip of his cock, whining when he stroked himself, smearing his saliva all over to lubricate his cock.

“Who do you think of when you’re all alone, Jakey?” You asked, Jake bucked his hips up when his hand gained speed, he moaned out your name loudly.

“F-Fuck…” Jake noisily whined, “Y-You’re… you’re a-all I think about!” Jake struggled to speak coherently, his hand moving impossibly fast. 

It didn’t take too long for Jake to cum, already worked up after eating you out. As he reaches the peak of his climax, white ropes of his cum shoot out of his tip, creating a mess everywhere. Jake gasped for air, trying to regulate his breathing. You stopped filming, dropping your phone to your side to climb onto Jake’s lap. He hugged your waist again, leaning his head back on the head board, closing his eyes.

Jake hissed when you bit the skin of his neck, leaving a bite mark that will surely bruise. Satisfied with what you’ve done, you continued leaving bite marks on the expanse of his neck, playing with his hair as you did so.

“What’s gotten into you?” Jake asked, exhaustion evident on his face.

You take a hold of his cock, pushing your panties to the side to line it up with your hole before sinking down, you and Jake moaning in unison at the feeling of your cunt wrapped around his dick. You let yourself adjust to Jake’s size before you moved up and down on his lap at a fast pace. Skin slapping, lewd moans, and crude language echoed throughout your bedroom.

“Nothing, I’m just claiming what’s mine,” you said, stuttering out each word. Jake’s hands rolled your shirt up, squeezing both of your tits. 

You moaned out his name when his thumbs played with your sensitive nipples. You pushed his hands away to roughly kiss him, in response Jake let you explore the cavern of his mouth with your tongue. You barely pulled away, letting him breathe for a moment, impatiently pressing your lips together to roughly make out.

Jake’s lips were swollen and shiny once you pulled away from him, leaving you satisfied. Jake gasped when he felt your right hand crept up to his neck, your fingers wrapped around his throat.

“Fuck…” Jake bit his lips, moaning out your name when you tighten your grip around his neck.

“Who do you belong to, Jakey?” you bounced on him faster, chasing your high.

“Y-You,” Jake felt lightheaded with his peak nearing. “‘m a-all yours.”

“That’s right. You’re all mine, understood?” Jake attempted to nod, your grip on him not loosening.

“Y-Yes! A-All yours,” Jake stuttered out.

Jake rubbed your clit at a speed, the knot in your stomach finally snapping as you creamed on Jake’s cock, triggering his orgasm not long after.

Jake leaned his back on the headboard behind him, catching his breath. You hugged Jake, resting your head on his shoulder, feeling the exhaustion creep in. You almost drifted into sleep with the way Jake was playing with your hair, his other arm loosely wrapped around you.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Jake spoke, breaking the silence. He carried you to your bathroom, setting you down on your toilet to let you pee, he cleaned himself up while waiting for you to finish, lending you a hand when you needed anything.

After changing into new sets of clothes, you lie down in bed with Jake to cuddle. He hissed when you wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him close.

“What?” you asked Jake, confused, he didn’t answer, opting to point at his neck. You pulled down Jake’s hoodie to inspect his neck, splotches of marks adorned his neck, your handprint evident, bruising the skin. “Oh my god!” you sat up at the same time your eyes widened, Jake chuckled at your reaction. “Are you ok? I’m so sorry! I got carried away!”

“You’re good, princess,” Jake hugged you again, pulling you close as he kissed the skin of your neck. Your fingers find their way to play with his hair again. “Oh, I meant it by the way…” He rested his head on your shoulder, looking up to hold your gaze. “…I’m all yours.” Jake grinned.

“I know,” you said sporting the same expression the boy had in front of you. “You’re all mine.”

“I’m sorry for making you jealous, princess.” Jake pouted. “But I can’t guarantee that it won't happen again,” Jake teased, pointing at his neck.

“You little shit!” you flicked Jake’s neck in annoyance, making him scream at the sudden pain.

“I’m sorry! I was just kidding!” Jake hugged you tighter.

You woke up the next morning with a note from Jake, apologizing that he had to leave for practice early in the morning, not forgetting to promise a hang out with his girl after. It was safe to say that you went back to bed with a smile on your face after reading the note.

Jake felt bad for leaving you, but it was either that or deathly exercises assigned to him by his coach. 

When he arrived at the change room, he spotted his friends by their designated lockers. Jay already changed into his jersey, Heeseung groggily changing, and Sunghoon stretching.

“About time you arrived,” Sunghoon said. “We were just talking about Jay’s dumbass. What took you so long to get here?”

“I had to stop by my place to get my shit,” Jake simply said. “Hey man,” Jake dapped Jay up. “So, what did your dad say?”

“I don’t know, man. He said he’s gonna get my car fixed, but guess what? This dude’s gonna intern at his company,” Jay pointed to himself, looking unamused.

“Yikes, you poor soul.” Jake said, pulling up his hoodie to change his clothes. His friends collectively gasped.

“Dude, you’re not gonna go out looking like that,” Sunghoon said, shocked.

“Yeah, no. Coach is gonna think you got into a fight or something,” Heeseung said mouth agape.

“What the fuck happened to you?” Jay pointed at Jake’s neck.

“Oh, this?” Jake arrogantly smirked. “My girlfriend happened.”

© snoowpee | DO NOT COPY OR REPOST.

[xerotiny99]

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."

[writingseaslugs]

Random thought on my mind! Aight so imagine you go to Twisted Wonderland, a completely different world mind you, and you realize nobody speaks your native language. In fact, and language that exists in our world doesn’t exist there.

So it’s just the opening ceremony and things are going on, Crowley is asking you questions, you are so god damn confused and you say something in your language and everyone is just confused af. And then. AND THEN!

Grim just turns to you and is like “Hey…what language is that?” And it’s in your native tongue. You just find out that your native language is the language of beasts in a Twisted, an ancient tongue that nobody except some of true monsters still know today.

So this essentially means you can effectively communicate with any monster race no problemo and Grim is now your translator at school so you gotta rely on him some more. And ofc in typical Grim fashion if he has to translate something he doesn’t agree with, he twists your words.

Just the shenanigans that would ensue. Imagine Book 3 like:

Yuu: No, I refuse to make a contract with you.

Grim: I would adore making a contract with you and helping out my beloved friends.

And then Lilia discovers this and becomes teacher mode because he knows a gist of the ancient language. Just hmmmmmm I dunno why this is rent free in my head right now.

[raysrays]

Crimson Guardian NSFW

Kyojuro Rengoku x Wife! Reader

18+ MDNI!🚫

CW: NSFW Content, minor angst, controlling/manipulating behavior, fluff-ish.

Y/N POV

Scenario : You've recently married into the respected Rengoku family, and while you continue your work as a demon slayer, life starts to get a bit messy. Balancing your duties becomes a real challenge as you navigate the challenges of married life. You find yourself having to make tough choices just to keep your husband happy, all while debating to stay true to yourself and your calling as a demon slayer.

Marriage. Truly one of the most beautiful milestones a couple can achieve. Marrying Kyojuro has undoubtedly been my greatest accomplishment.

I still remember it vividly, as if it were yesterday. Surrounded by friends, family, and core members, we pledged our lives to each other. Though it wasn't the most glamorous wedding ever seen, it was enough. Because really, all I've ever wanted was Kyojuro, and now, finally, I have him.

For the first few months, our marriage was nothing short of perfect. I moved into the Rengoku estate with Kyojuro's family, assisting Shenjuro with chores and gradually trying to get closer to Shinjuro. Though I'm not sure how successful I was.

It was only six months in that I realized being a demon slayer and a wife wasn't as easy as I thought.

Before our relationship, I was Kyojuro's Tsuguko. He was simply my mentor, and I trained hard under him to get myself where I am today. It was later down the road that we noticed each other's lingering gazes, the occasional flirting, and all the other subtle hints of wanting to be more.

Kyojuro was strong, and I knew he wanted a family, but I simply wasn't ready to give up training and my duties as a demon slayer just yet.

Every day, after helping out around the estate, I would hike over to HQ and pick up where I had left off the previous day, training until the late hours of the night. I would often come home exhausted, which usually caused Kyojuro to worry. As much as I reassured him, he never seemed fully convinced.

Now, here I was, sitting at the dinner table with Kyo across from me. It was a rare occasion for us to eat alone together like this. We made small talk about our day and training, and then he finally stopped eating and put his silverware down.

"Little Flame, I think it’s time we have a serious discussion about the way things have been as of late,” his usual happy smile seemed almost nervous.

I set my spoon down on my plate, giving him my full attention.

“Yes? What is it?”

“Sunflower, you have been working so hard as of late, and it’s quite admirable. I truly admire your dedication to the demon slayer corps and your training!”

“But…?” I ask, confused.

“But… since our marriage, I’ve found myself in constant worry over you. Every time you go on a mission without me, I have to painfully wait for your return. Not knowing whether or not you'd be injured or even-“

“Dead?” I finish.

I saw his body tense up at the word.

“Yes, my love. Dead. I cannot even bear the thought of you never returning to me. It pains me to my core,” he seemed so sad, so worried about me.

I know Kyojuro, I know he didn’t mean anything bad by what he was saying. However, I felt almost offended. He too was a slayer, a hashira. I also had to deal with the fear of him returning with serious injuries or even never returning at all.

Did he believe me to be incapable of protecting myself? He was the very one who trained me. Even though I knew Kyojuro was strong, much stronger than me, it just felt like he lacked faith in me.

“You don’t think I’m strong enough anymore? Do you think marriage has made me soft?” I realized I might have come off a little too harsh, but my emotions were getting the best of me.

His expression seemed surprised, but I could tell. While he may not have used those words, that was definitely the gist of it.

I watched him get up from his place at the table and walk over to me. He pulled my chair out from under the table, then grabbed my hands and kneeled down in front of me.

His big, bright eyes were now staring up at me.

“You are one of the strongest people I know, my love. I know how capable you are, but please remember…”

He brought my hands to his lips, kissing them softly.

“You are my wife before you are a demon slayer. I cannot risk sending you off only for you to never return.”

I could practically hear the desperation and love in his voice.

Kyojuro wasn’t someone who would usually discourage anyone from pursuing something they're passionate about. So if he was now, I knew that it’s something he’s been internally battling with for a while.

“What about you? Is it not the same? What about my worry? What if you never come home to me?” I could feel my face start to heat up. Everything he was saying seemed to come from genuine care, but it felt so hypocritical.

“I am a Hashira, my little flame. I have a certain responsibility you do not have to burden yourself with. I shall retire soon, in just a few years. So please…”

There’s no way he’d ask me-

“Please retire your sword, Y/N. Please stay home for me. Please allow my heart to rest easy knowing you'll be here waiting for me whenever I shall return,” his voice was pleading.

I felt so conflicted. I’d worked so hard. All of these years of training to hopefully become a high-ranking swordsman myself. However, at the same time, I never stopped to consider my romantic life and how being married would affect things.

We both sat there in silence for a few moments, and I finally rose up from the chair, pulling him up off his knees along with me.

I looked up at him, reaching my hand up to rest on his cheek.

“Kyojuro, you are the only one I would retire my sword for. So please promise me, promise me you will always come home to me. Until the day you yourself retire.”

“I promise you, Sunflower. As long as I know you are safe and waiting for me, there is no demon that could ever keep me away.”

I felt his hand on my lower back and the other holding up my chin.

We both leaned in, our lips meeting in a tender kiss.

This kiss started so gently, so lovingly at first. As we pulled away for just a moment, staring into each other’s eyes, we realized how long it had been since we really enjoyed each other’s company.

After that, the kiss only grew hotter and more passionate.

Kyojuro swept me off my feet and carried me straight to our shared room at the back of the estate, the most private spot. It seemed fitting for newlyweds, after all.

As he gently laid me back on the soft futon, I couldn't help but stay focused on him. Kyojuro was simply beautiful. His hair, his eyes, his body, everything about him looked like he was perfectly sculpted.

My admiration was interrupted as I felt him begin to kiss me again. One of his hands traveling to my breasts, gently squeezing it.

The other massaging my thigh.

I feel him pull away from me starting to kiss on my neck traveling all the way down to my chest.

Kyojuro had always known my weak points and how to make me say yes to his every request. He knew my body just as well as I did, and now he was taking full advantage of that knowledge.

I could feel him pressing against me as he moved his hand down my body, lightly touching me. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him closer to me, wanting more.

Then I heard, Kyojuro's soft voice whisper these words, almost as a demand. "Enjoy this little flame, you've kept me waiting far too long.”

As soon as those words left his lips, I felt myself begin to relax. His movements were so gentle, so careful, so loving.

His fingers trailed down my sides, sending chills through my body. His hands went back up and caressed my neck, making me tremble. He kissed me once more, and I melted into him.

It was as if he had cast a spell over me, and all I could do was obey him. He was completely in control of me.

After a moment, I felt him move back down and remove my underwear, revealing my already wet entrance. His hand slid between my thighs, and I couldn't help but let out a moan as his finger slipped inside me. He was gentle at first, just barely grazing me, but it felt incredible.

"Is this okay?" he asked softly, his breath hot against my ear.

I nodded but I could tell that wasn’t enough for him.

“Use your words my love.” He demanded sweetly.

“Yes Kyo, it’s perfect.” I said, my voice trembling.

He leaned down and kissed my lips before pulling back again, smiling at me.

"I want to be inside of you," he whispered, his voice filled with desire.

"Please," I begged.

He removed his fingers, replacing them with his cock, his tip rubbing against my clit.

"Good girl," he whispered, thrusting into me.

I threw back my head, arching my back and digging my nails into his shoulders. His movements were slow and deep at first and then they became faster and harder, and soon my whole body began to shake. I couldn't stop the moans from escaping my lips, and I couldn't help but beg for more.

When he starts to speed up I know we are both about to reach our limit.

I feel his fingers interlock with mine and his lips pressing against mine again, but this time, he wasn’t just kissing me, he was also letting his teeth graze my bottom lip.

He was biting down hard enough to draw blood.

We were both so close and we were both trying to hold back but we couldn’t anymore. We were finally going to let ourselves release.

I was the first one to let myself go, arching my back as I moaned his name.

Then he followed not too far behind.

After he finishes, we just lay there for a bit catching our breath.

“I love you, Y/N,” he finally breathed out, turning his head to look at me.

I turned to face him as well. “I love you, Kyojuro.”

After that, the two of us drifted off in each other's arms for the rest of the night.

The next morning when I awoke, I was still trapped wrapped in Kyojuro's arms.

After a bit of struggling, I managed to maneuver my way out and make it to the kitchen.

There I saw Senjuro, who was already preparing breakfast for everyone.

“Good morning, Sen,” I greeted with a yawn.

“Oh, good morning, Y/N!”

“I'm almost finished with breakfast. Is my brother awake yet?”

“He should be awake soon. We both have to see Master Kagaya today,” I said, rubbing my eyes.

He stopped to turn and look at me.

“Did something bad happen?” he asked nervously.

Poor Senjuro always assumes the absolute worst in every situation. Well, I suppose in this case it’s somewhat understandable.

“No, Sen, nothing's wrong. Kyojuro and I are just going to inform Master Kagaya of my retirement. That’s all.”

He gave a puzzled look.

“Retirement? Why? Haven’t you been training for years to improve your sword skills to move up in the ranks?” he asked.

He was right. I know I shouldn’t go back on my word to Kyojuro, but I really was having second thoughts about my decision.

Senjuro could probably sense my doubt because his next response was:

"If this is something that you're not sure of, then you shouldn't do it. If you have doubts about this decision, then maybe you're not ready for retirement just yet."

His words really struck a chord with me.

Maybe he was right.

Before I could ponder that any further, Kyojuro had made his way into the kitchen.

"Good morning! How are my two favorite people doing?" he said cheerfully.

I smiled.

"Morning, Kyo. Did you sleep well?"

"I did, actually. Thank you, little flame," he walked over to me, giving me a kiss.

I could feel my chest tightening, nervous about what was to come.

The whole time at breakfast, I felt so spaced out. All I could hear was Kyojuro and Senjuro talking and the occasional grunt from Shinjuro drinking away at the table.

“Sunflower? Are you okay?”

I was snapped out of my daze by Kyojuro waving a hand in front of my face. All three of them were staring at me, kind of concerned.

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Sorry.”

I shook my head a little and looked down at my plate. I felt bad for Senjuro going through all that trouble to cook, but I simply couldn’t eat right now.

After we finished breakfast, Kyojuro and I headed out.

The thought that this would be the last time wearing my uniform with my sword by my side was so weird and almost uncomfortable to me.

I knew that this day would come eventually, but I always hoped in the back of my mind that Kyojuro would be the one to retire before me.

I had been so focused on training and my duties as a demon slayer that it had never even occurred to me how my marriage would affect everything.

I was now a wife. My first priority should be the estate, and helping Shinjuro while he was in his state of grief, and being there for Senjuro as well.

It wouldn’t be right of me to go against my husband's wishes either. Especially after the intimate moment we shared. Right?

As we made it to HQ waiting to speak with the master I felt my heartbeat racing inside of me.

The room was quiet, I could feel Kyojuro’s eyes lingering on me but I couldn’t bring myself to face him right now.

Both mine and Kyojuro’s attention was shifted as we heard the door open and Master Kagaya entered the room.

"Rengoku, Y/N. It's a pleasure to see you both," Kagaya said, his face as warm as ever.

"It's wonderful to see you too, Master," I replied.

"So what brings you two here? It seems urgent, judging by the fact that you came in so early."

"It is very urgent," Kyojuro began.

He then proceeded to explain our conversation from the night before, and how I was considering retiring.

"Y/N, this is a big decision, and it's important that you feel comfortable and confident in it. Do you think you can fully retire, knowing you won't be able to assist the demon slayers as you are now?" Kagaya asked.

I looked at the master and then glanced at Kyojuro. He seemed so proud and happy that we were here. I could feel the warmth radiating from him.

But, I could also sense the worry in his expression. He was nervous, scared almost.

I couldn't do that to him.

"Master, I've spent most of my life training for the opportunity to become a hashira. To serve the demon slayer corps and protect those who cannot protect themselves. But...I'm no longer just a demon slayer. I'm also a wife, and as such, I think it's only right that I focus on that," I answered.

The room fell silent for a moment.

"If you truly feel this is the right choice, then we support you, Y/N," Kagaya finally spoke.

"Thank you, Master," I bowed.

"Thank you so much, Master! I will never

forget your kindness!" Kyojuro bowed as well.

The two of us left the room and started to head out.

As we exited, we ran into a few of the other Hashira, who asked us about what we had gone to see Master Kagaya about.

They too seemed surprised and a little concerned when Kyojuro explained to them that I would be retiring so soon.

I could tell some of their reactions to the news annoyed Kyojuro. Shinobu used the word “controlling,” and you could see his smile almost falter.

"Controlling" was never a word I would have used to describe my husband. He just loves me, right? He wants to protect me. There's no way my sweet and kind Kyo would ever do anything to control or manipulate me.

Right?

Part Two

[i-hate-accidents]

i hate accidents: the between

femme!reader x benedict bridgerton, femme!reader & the bridgerton family, femme!reader & penelope featherington

summary:  the adventures of a working class femme who befriends a fellow writer, a boisterous family, and a bewitching second eldest son

sections:  I. the beginning / II. the between / III. the ball

y/n:  bipoc, she/her, afab, nonbinary femme, queer, working class, of immigrant parents

content warnings:  classism, mentions of financial survival, microaggressive sexism, microaggressive gender assumption, intersectional low self-image of y/n, positive/supportive families, retelling of recurrent microaggressive homophobic experience with y/n’s family member in [II.vi], short description of almost throwing up (not related to low self-image) in [II.vii]

word count:  9.1k (of 38.8k)

story context:  everything in s1 and s2 of the tv series is canon for this story except for the s2 epilogue with the bridgertons.  this story takes place leading up to and into the 1815 season. 

additional notes:  this story is incomplete. scenes that are not written are described in chevrons <> with third person pov or are delineated by isolated ellipses. additionally, the author has only watched s2!  she has not watched any of s1 aside from clips, and they have not read the books aside from quotes used in edits.  they have not yet watched queen charlotte.  the author kinda knows the gist of an offer from a gentleman; they are familiar with sophie beckett (and are excited to meet her/them in the tv series!).

author’s note:  this is the first time the author has written fanfic in 13-15 years.  :)  it is her hope that they have made some progress since her pre/teens.  additionally, this fanfic has been written, on and off, over the course of two years.  the author sincerely hopes you find some sort of joy in it, especially the readers who maybe hope to see themself a little more specifically in the world we so love.

tagged: @omgsuperstarg @bedobeeeee @stvrdustalexx @anisas-nonsense @crazymar15 and all who have liked the story so far: the author extends her gratitude for your engagement with the first section. <3

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ II.i ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

“have i told you that you are the best model who has ever sat for me?”

it has become a common occurrence.  whenever you read while in the drawing room, benedict asks if you can be his model for his hand studies.  you oblige, seeing how you are already so still while reading aside from the occasional page turn, and—more so—you want to support how benedict progresses in his craft.  today, you and benedict are sat at a table as hyacinth plays a solitary game of cards on the floor and kathani and anthony sit at a couch with some delicious smelling tea.  you had come over to meet eloise and penelope first thing but were soon informed that the two young ladies were still at the markets with colin.  that made you smile; your loud friend is, no doubt, inserting herself emotionally and physically in between your two friends in love.

you feel yourself scrunch your eyebrows at benedict’s comment.

“surely you are exaggerating.”

“hyacinth was my last model; she was horrific.”

you hear an aghast gasp and do nothing to hide the amusement in your smile.

“it is difficult to sit still!”  the youngest bridgerton yells.  

“hyacinth, it is not becoming of a young lady to ye— ow!”

you see somewhat in your periphery how kathani puts the hand she used to thwack her husband’s arm back on her teacup handle, smiling.  benedict, in the meantime, groans and seems to be focusing even more intently on his sketch as not to make eye contact with his youngest sister.

“yes, i understand it is difficult, but you did not sit still for even eight seconds.”

you have not shifted your position in the past half hour or so as not to ruin the angle of your hand for benedict; but you need not visual confirmation to already know that hyacinth has rolled her eyes in response to her brother and returned to her game.

“well, what about the art academy?”  you continue.  “there must have been very good models there for you to draw.”

and very beautiful ones, at that.

“it is true, there were; but,” you see him smile as he smudges his paper, “none are comparable to you.”

you feel your cheeks light aflame and, with a cough, focus even more intently on your passage.

“then i ought to give up on my profession as a basket weaver and put in my request as a model at the art academy.”

“you do realize that you would have to pose—” you see how he pauses his drawing, looking to see where the youngest is in the room, and lowers his voice as he leans forward towards you; (you attempt not to roll your eyes), ”—nude, in order to be a model there, y/n.”

“yes, and what issue is there with that?”

you look away from your passage to benedict to make a point with your stare and are startled to see how startled benedict looks, the familiar ocean of his eyes almost entirely gone and replaced by the black of his pupils.

“nothing.  there is no issue.  no issue at——” he coughs, scratching the back of his ear, no doubt smudging it with charcoal, “would you like to see my progress so far?”

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ II.ii ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

< in the gardens of number five.  penelope, eloise, hyacinth, and gregory are adventurers looking to save the princess benedict from the banshee y/n.

< hidden behind a hedge, y/n and benedict bicker. >

“you are a middle child on a technicality, benedict.”

“what is that supposed to mean?”

“you have seven siblings.  anthony the eldest, hyacinth the youngest—and everyone in between simply a middle child?  you all could not be more different from one another, and you are at the very top; you are practically an eldest child.”

“i’ll have you know that no one, myself included, sees me as such.”

“i’m familiar.  an eldest sibling with a penchant for peculiar tea is not one i would describe with an overwhelming sense of duty.”

“how do you know of that?”

“kathani told me.  she recounted to me her first dinner with the family and how transcendently in the most literal sense you had behaved.”

“so you two talk of me?”

you feel the tips of your ears heat, but fortunately your hair hides your embarrassment sufficiently.  you roll your eyes.

“is that what you gleaned?  do not think too deeply about it.”

“i shall think about it deeply and often,”  he states with a twinkle in his eyes.  in an attempt to ignore your fluster and flutterings, you roll your eyes again and shove him.  he laughs, his nose scrunching and eyes crinkling adorably whenever he is truly delighted.  despite your best efforts (you put in no effort), you smile at him.  it cannot be helped when you are around benedict.

“now, make haste; hyacinth is about to cast a spell, and she needs a princess to save.  may i grasp your arm?”

“grasp my what?”

“your arm!  i need to pretend as if i am holding you captive, but i am not simply going to take hold of it without permission.”

“how chivalrous of you.”

“i suppose i’ve learned from a sufficient enough gentleman.”

benedict grins and offers his arm.

“i am yours for the taking.”

it is preposterous how much this man makes you want to roll your eyes.  and how much you welcome it.  in the moment, however, you refrain yourself and, instead, smile at him in return as you yank yourselves both out of the hedge to be seen by the others.

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ II.iii ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

< on a morning before she is off to number five, y/n realizes that her last remaining skirt still needs to be cleaned after she had spilt a bottle of ink on it.  (she was devastated by losing so much writing material and money in one fell swoop.)  she had been so preoccupied with work that she had forgotten to clean it. 

< in a rush, she looks throughout her house for extra skirts but to no avail; the only thing she finds that she can wear is a pair of trousers from when her father was younger.  she finds this suitable enough, puts them on, and runs off to bridgerton house.

< upon arriving at the drawing room wearing trousers, y/n hears a choking sound. she looks over and sees that benedict has somehow spilt tea all over himself.  as the bridgerton family makes comments of curiosity and support of y/n’s current attire, benedict excuses himself, y/n hearing how he mumbles that he needs to change his clothes.

< after some time, benedict returns, but y/n notices that, aside from removing his coat, he still wears the clothes he was in.  she remarks to herself:  how can he have been gone for long enough but still be in the same clothes? >  

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ II.iv ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

you gasp.

“wait!”

you do not wait to hear a response from your companions; you right about turn, swing open the door to number five, and run into the house, straight towards the drawing room.

“benedict!” you shout, “you must come see!”

“wha—“

you grab his hand, pulling him up from his slouched lounge.

“quickly!  you must make haste!”

adrenaline and joy rushing in your veins, you lead benedict out of the drawing room and towards the entrance where, upon returning, you see giles, with a large beam on his face, holding open the door.  you laugh, shooting him a quick nod and grin of your gratitude, and bring benedict outside, pass penelope and colin, pass the gates of bridgerton house, towards the road, and halt yourself and benedict in place.  

you shoot your forefinger outward, pointing towards the sky, your grin ever growing.

“look!”

benedict has been looking at you incredulously, as if you’ve completely lost your mind, and perhaps you have, but you’d be damned if you got to see this and benedict hadn’t.  he shifts his gaze and grin from you towards the sky, and as you had expected, as you had hoped, his expression transforms from gleeful confusion into complete awe.

“see?  it is just like your palette of ideas!  the oranges, the reds, the yellows, the purples, the pinks.  here it all is, made by mother nature herself, and you have already managed to capture the hues in the pigments of your paints!”  laughter bubbles out of you.  “it is amazing!  you are amazing!”

you hear a soft buzz in your ear, causing you to turn towards the familiar sound.  a bumblebee swirls about your head, and it makes you giggle.  you always had a fondness for the sweet creatures; how wonderous one has come to greet you at such a moment!  the bee lands on your nose, as if to give you a kiss, causing you to giggle even more, before it departs and flies off into the sky.

as you stare at your departing friend, as you stare into the sorcerous colors of the sunset, as your smile feels permanent in this moment, you ask benedict,

“isn’t it beautiful?”

“yes.”

you turn to benedict, expecting to see his side profile tilted towards the sky when, instead, you connect with his ocean eyes.  gazing at you.  

your smile fades away as you quietly suck in air through your nose.  you feel a soft caress at your hand, and looking down, you see that you are still holding hands with benedict, him gently rubbing the side of your hand with his thumb.  you look back up, and with indecipherable ocean eyes and a soft smile on his lips, he still gazes at you.  butterflies flutter maddeningly within you.  the way he looks at you, it makes you feel scared.  but you’d be damned if you allowed your fear to tear yourself away from benedict.  so, instead, you smile back and gently rub the side of his hand with your thumb too.

“well!”

you and benedict reel back from one another, letting go of one another’s hands.  as you feel the loss of his touch, you whip your head towards the voice and see a smirking colin, by the side of a smiling penelope, both approaching the two of you.  

“while i hate to get in the way of two— friends in the midst of a conversation, i must fulfill my duties and escort miss featherington to her home.”

you roll your eyes as you promptly ignore the fire that burns on your cheeks.

“you rich people and your escortings.  penelope lives across the way!  she would have already been home if you would have let her, colin.”

“yes, that is true,” pipes up penelope, “but then i would have missed out on such a beautiful sight,” and instead of gesturing at the sunset as her words imply, she keeps her eyes locked on you and benedict.

menaces.  i am friends with menaces.

with smugness in their smiles and delight in their eyes, penelope and colin nod their heads in farewell.  as they move past, you feel a soft squeeze on the side of your arm and see penelope giving you a wink.  you stare off at the couple, penelope featherington and colin bridgerton, your absolute menaces of friends who have left you and benedict stunned in spot.

benedict.

benedict!

you turn your head to face him.  he must have realized at the same moment as you, for you are greeted by an equally speechless expression.  feeling yourself staring into his ocean eyes a moment too long, you cough and look away.

“right, i suppose— i, going— i should be going.”

“of course— yes, that is— right, yes, very good—— not!  you going!  you going is not— not good!  i— we— are more than glad to let you stay!— not let you, but!  but have you stay with—— us!  stay with us!—”

“benedict,” feeling the instinct to touch his hand again, you hesitate and, instead, touch the side of his arm.  you offer him a smile to his (adorably) flustered state.  “i understand what you are trying to convey.”

he huffs out a breath and smiles warily in return, and it is truly absurd how beautiful he is when his suave falls away.  when he takes off the façade he performs to the world and is just himself.  not a bridgerton, not a second eldest son, not a gentleman.  just— 

benedict.  

the one you—— care for.  

the one you care for.

the one i care for.

“thank you, y/n,” you hear him say, “for sharing this with me.”

“of course.  you were first to come to mind when i saw it.”

“shall i— shall i escort you home?”

you snort, inadvertently breaking whatever odd energy has grown between the two of you, and he grins in response.

“goodness, no.  i am fully capable of walking there myself.  besides, it is too far from here, unlike miss featherington,” you intonate the last of your words with mockery.  you will battle colin bridgerton one day.

“i enjoy a long walk.  and with such a beautiful sight, it would be much more a blessing than a burden.”

“daylight is fastly fading; the sunset will not last another eight minutes.”

“yes, the sunset.  because that is what i was referring to,” he says as he stares at you with a lopsided grin.

rolling your eyes, and feeling the violent flutterings in your stomach, you shove benedict by his shoulder, which causes him to laugh and throw his hand up in mock surrender.

“good evening, benedict,” you finalize as you walk away, a smile quickly forming on your lips once out of his sight.

“good evening, y/n,” and you hear the smile in his voice.

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ II.v ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

“it is here!”

you had just begun to cross your writing when you look up and see kathani enter the drawing room, paper in hand.

“what’s here?” you inquire.  the viscountess smiles.

“perhaps you should be the first to see,” and she hands you the sheet.

taking it into your hands, you are immediately struck by the ornate illustrations of flowers and foliage ornamenting the borders—they are printed on! rather than hand drawn.  you run your fingers against the paper to test your observation.  you’ve only seen such a feat in the books you’ve borrowed from the bridgertons, so it impresses you (though perhaps it shouldn’t surprise me, you remark to yourself) that kathani has found a press to accomplish this feat for her printing. 

you then take in the lettering and read,

a ball in titania’s garden court

“come, now a roundel and a fairy song.”

the company of

is requested at bridgerton house, number 5 in grosvenor square, on thursday evening, jul. 6, 1815 at 9 o’clock p. m.

“you helped inspire the theme,” kathani remarks.  you look up from the paper to her; her eyes are intently on you.

“me?  how so?”

“with our reading of his work, and our conversations with eloise and penelope, he was naturally on my mind when planning for the ball.”

you beam.

“how wondrous!  your first ball in the city, and you are bringing the fairies to it,” you turn to the others. “you must tell me how it goes!  i’d be delighted to hear what the dresses were like, with the theme and all, and if any larks ensued.” 

you note to yourself how penelope will likely know of all of the latter far better than any of the bridgertons, but it would be intriguing, nevertheless, to hear their perspectives.  you turn to the viscountess once more, “it is a brilliant idea, kathani.  i’m honored to have had some part in it.”

you see her open her mouth in response—

“oh good!” 

—when you hear anthony’s voice at the entrance of the drawing room.  

“you’ve accepted!  that is wonderful news.”

you furrow your eyebrows as he approaches.

“accepted?”

“the invitation.  to the ball.”

“what?”  

anthony looks around the room to his family and then back to you.

“i— am beginning to think that is not what you were responding to.”

“how quick of you, brother,” deadpans colin.

“i have just entered!”

“and have proceeded to make a fool of yourself,” eloise counters.

“it’s appropriate for the theme, really,” colin turns to kathani.  “sister, perhaps you might change the dress to costumes?  anthony would make an excellent bottom to your titania.”

“i am—” you start, “still lost.” 

kathani gently nods her head to the paper in your hand.  you look down again.  previously neglecting it for the printed words and illustrations, you now read what is clearly in the viscountess’s handwriting between ‘the company of’ and ‘is requested’:

miss y/n y/l/n.

“this is an invitation.  for me.”

you look up from the invitation and are greeted by kathani, and the rest of the bridgerton family at number five, expectantly staring at you.

“but—— but—”

“now, i understand that this might be quite overwhelming,” begins kathani, “but after speaking with the family, we all agreed that it would be most wondrous if you were to attend the ball.  we would make certain that you felt prepared, beforehand, with lessons in dance and etiquette, hence why i’ve prepared the invitations earlier than customary.” 

“not!  to assume that you are not already competent in these,” adds colin.  “you certainly have more grace than eloise— ow!”  and he rubs the part of his arm eloise just smacked. 

“but if it would appease your mind,” violet interjects, “and help with your concurrence, then we would be more than elated to offer them, and to do them with you.”

“your attire would be paid for,” anthony states simply, “and we would pay the business of your employment their missed earnings for the days in which you will be preparing for the ball and resting from the event’s happenings.  and, if you shall allow it, we would support you and your family from your abstained days of wages.”

“balls are dreadful,” asserts eloise, “but!” she continues swiftly, and exasperatedly, upon seeing her family’s reaction, “with your presence, this one would certainly be more bearable.  pleasant!, even.”

“we,” hyacinth gestures to herself and gregory, “cannot attend the ball, but we will help you in any way we can before then!”

“and we will be there on the morning and afternoon of, if you would like!” gregory exclaims. 

kathani was wrong.  

this is not quite overwhelming.  this is overwhelmingly overwhelming. 

you do not even know where to begin in processing all of the information with which you have just been bombarded.  the wages, the etiquette, the paying, the attire, the dancing, the days off, the ball itself.

but what strikes you most of all—

“you all… agreed?  of wanting me at the ball?”

you look around the drawing room.  your friends’ countenances are illuminated with beams.  all, but one.  you turn to him.  he was the only one not to have stated his case in the family’s proposal. 

before you can start to ruminate on the implications of such, he offers you a smile.  small, but enough for those stupid, stupefying butterflies to flutter within.

“we did,” benedict says.  “we do.”

you exhale.

“then,” though weary from the turn of this day, you offer a small smile in return, to benedict, to the family, “then yes.  i shall go to the ball.”

hyacinth and gregory nearly knock you over in the chair you’re sat in by the sheer power of their hugs.  violet, clapping her hands, laughs with delight at the sight.  eloise exclaims something about penelope finding out.  anthony states he shall begin the ledger.  colin, for whatever reason, starts talking about the cakes that will be there.  kathani remarks that there is much to do and that she, and all of the family, will be there every step of the way.

and benedict smiles.  still small.  still enough.  with those damned ocean eyes.

i shall never understand the absurdity that is this family.

and how delighted you are by that.  how grateful you are for them.

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ II.vi ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

“your rehearsal partners will be myself and gregory,” states the viscount.

you try to withhold your sigh.  you have been dreading this day since kathani first told you of it.  you are utterly delighted to be a student under the tutelage of the viscountess; you are utterly petrified of being a dance student.

“and why do benedict and i not have the privilege to dance with y/n?”

it also does not quell your petrification that the entirety of number five has decided to be present for your lessons.

“because, colin, you two are unmarried men; i am a married one; and gregory is a child.”

“i have just entered my adolescent years!”

“precisely,” anthony grins, “a child.”

“kathani and hyacinth can be potential partners,” you suggest, diverging as not to join hyacinth in her laughter at gregory’s disgruntlement.  despite the anxiety that somehow both swells and knots within you, you are resolute on being intentional and present during your lessons.  “the former is married, and the latter is a child.”

anthony opens his mouth to respond but suddenly closes it shut.  he blinks.

“why have you not considered eloise?”

“because she is unmarried.  i am assuming that you do not want me to partner with colin or benedict, for fear of some sort of— romantic attraction forming.  so i’ve applied the same logic to eloise.”

there is a small silence.  you can see how anthony (and perhaps the rest of the room, you sense) is busily processing within his mind (and theirs) what you have said to him.  

kathani pats her husband twice on his back and smiles at you.  

“that is an excellent idea, y/n.  we will rotate your partners amongst myself, anthony, gregory, and hyacinth.  let us begin.”

and so you do, and it is quite horrendous.  or rather, you are quite horrendous.  

kathani is, unsurprisingly, a marvelous teacher, but not even she as a guide can prevent you from stepping on her, anthony’s, hyacinth’s, and gregory’s feet.  you apologize profusely each time you do so, and so you apologize frequently and often, but each of your partners still smile at you without a drop of deceit or regret in their expressions despite their winces.  they encourage you in all their particular ways.  kathani gently knocks the foot you stepped on her to where it ought to be placed.  anthony pacifies that you are doing well.  hyacinth recounts how she had struggled as you when she first began her lessons.  gregory assures that you are not nearly as heavy-footed as eloise.

even those who aren’t your partners encourage you.  eloise confirms gregory’s statement, not once peeking into the book she holds in her hands.  colin claps his hands to help you keep the tempo of the steps.  violet, at the pianoforte, enthuses how much progress you are making with each passing dance.  penelope, who joined the drawing room part way through a rather disastrous cotillion with anthony, begins to clap her hands excitedly upon seeing you.

the only bridgeton you haven’t heard from the entirety of your lessons is benedict.  while rehearsing a sequence in a quadrille with hyacinth, you notice the vacant spot next to eloise where he once sat.  you try to feign to yourself that your following misstep is due to your ineptitude in rhythm and nothing else.  certainly not the lack of presence of a particular someone.

after you curtsy and kathani bows upon finishing a scotch reel, she beams at you.

“i believe that is enough lessons for today.”

you sigh with every bit of your lungs, your attempt at perfectly squared shoulders immediately slumping in relief.  the family chortles in response and gives you a pleasant round of applause.  you feel your cheeks go flush with embarrassment, completely unbelieving that your horrific display of dancing deserves any sort of praise, but the sentiment warms your heart.

“i would like to pardon myself, if that is all right,” you request towards kathani, “for a moment, is all.”

“yes, of course,” and she takes your hand.  “and we do mean it, y/n.  you have done well today.  you should be proud.”

before you can respond to her, she gives a gentle squeeze of your hand and turns to walk towards anthony.  blinking, you shake your head out of your thoughts.  the bridgertons and penelope seem to respect your want of excusing yourself as they grin or nod their heads in your direction but make no move towards you.  you take a moment more to look at the family and then turn to leave the drawing room.  you cannot help the smile that blooms on your face as you cross the entrance—

when a hand catches your wrist and pulls you further away from the drawing room.  you are about to scream when you see benedict, with furrowed eyebrows and pleading ocean eyes, swiftly put his forefinger to his pursed lips.

“fuckin’— benedict!” you whisper-yell, attempting to honor benedict’s unspoken request for your silence.  “are you mad?  and why are you out here?  have you been here this entire time?”

“may i speak with you?  in private?”  

the urgency in his whisper stupefies you, any frustration felt within fading away.

“of course you may.”

he slides his hand down from your wrist to take your hand—

“follow me.”

—and, with haste, leads you down the corridor and up a set of stairs.

“are you certain this is all right?  the last time we had spoken alone together, you were scolded by your brother.”

“i am more than willing to take that risk with you,” benedict says sincerely, with a smile, but it is strained.  it is a subtlety, but with knowing him for as long as you have now, it is something you have noticed in his expressions.

“are you all right, benedict?”

he promptly ignores your question.  it is unlike benedict, to ignore one of your inquiries.  to retort with a snarky quip, yes; to make a particularly theatrical countenance, yes; to respond with uncertainty, yes.  but never outright, deliberate evasion.  it makes your heart swell even more with worry.

you and benedict arrive at a set of grand doors.  turning the gilded knob, he opens the door and, in true gentlemanly fashion, holds it for you to pass.  such etiquette would have caused you to roll your eyes, but with benedict’s current distress, you will yourself to refrain. 

just as you enter the room, benedict enters too, turns around, and carefully closes the door shut.  he reaches into his pocket and, after some shuffling about, retrieves a key.  you hear a click of the door, and before you can comment on the absolute peculiarity of this situation thus far, benedict whips himself around and faces you.

“do you have attraction to both sexes?”

“i— what?”

“do you have attraction to both sexes?” he repeats with impatience.

“to all persons,” you correct with equal impatience.  “and yes, i do.”

benedict blinks at your response but shakes his head out of his thoughts.

“and how long, how long have you known?  of your attractions?”

“‘of my attractions’?”

“i am asking a question, y/n!”

“you are being strange, benedict!”

“i am!—” and he turns away from you, running his hands through his hair, sucking in air through his nostrils.  he turns back to you and it startles you—how frustrated his countenance is, and how vulnerable his ocean eyes are.

“i am merely trying to ask a question.  i am trying to understand.  please, y/n,” benedict begs.  “please.”

“i— all right,” you try to soothe.  “i, i don’t know how long i have known.  i suppose, since i was a child?  or, perhaps, truly in my adolescent years, when i found myself gazing at those with names like emily and andrew and how i—” you swallow, suddenly feeling exposed, “how i held my breath around them, whenever they were close, when— whenever they were near.”

“and do you still feel that way?”

“pardon?”

“do you still feel that way?  around people?  for people?”

just for the one.

“i, i do.” 

after staring at you a moment more, benedict turns away again, and you quickly exhale a breath—when you’re stricken with a sudden fear.

“does this change your opinion of me?” 

benedict turns back to you, frustration still in his features but confusion slowly seeping into them.

“when i—” am i crying? “when i told my sister how i felt for a girl in our neighborhood, she did not—” you try to shake your head of the fog that starts to fill your mind at remembering, “did not look at me for weeks, and when she did, i felt like, like—— like a monster.”

his face falls.

“no,” benedict states, fastly approaching you, “no, no, no, y/n.”

“i am sorry,” you choke out as he places his hands on the sides of your arms.

“why are you apologizing?” benedict whispers, applying pressure to where he holds you steady.  you had not realized you’ve been shaking.

“you had asked me questions, these questions of importance to you, and i— i have made it about myself— i am so sorry, benedict.”

“you have nothing to apologize for.” 

you shut your eyes close, feeling your face contort in the way it does when everything simply becomes too much for you to bear.    

“you were, and are, so much more courageous than me.”

benedict’s gentle voice and strange statement rouse you to open your eyes.

“i do not understand?”

“you have told another person about your attractions to both— to all persons.  i…”

he goes quiet, unable to finish his thought aloud.  you scrunch your eyebrows in confusion, but staring into his ocean eyes a moment more—vulnerable, scared, hurting—it dawns on you.

oh.

benedict.

your heart blooms as you shake your head.

“it is not about courage, benedict, i do not think.  with my sister, it was about trust.  i thought i could trust her with my feelings, with— well, with me.  and she had proved me wrong.”

“and you have proved me right.”

“why are you speaking so vaguely today?” you manage to jest.

benedict rolls his eyes, a small smile resting on his lips.

“and you have proved me right in that i could trust you.  and i do, y/n.  i trust you with— with me.”

perhaps you should have thought better of it, but your emotions move faster than your logic, and your emotions call you to reach out your hand and cup benedict’s cheek as you see tears line his ocean eyes.

“as i trust you with me.”

you do not mean to do it; perhaps it’s the intimacy of your conversation, perhaps it’s the proximity of standing so close, perhaps it’s the way you can feel his bated breath mix with yours, but your eyes flicker down at benedict’s parted lips and, swallowing, you look back into his piercing, indecipherable ocean eyes and breathe,

“benedict—”

when a loud sequence of knocks thud at the locked door.

“oh god!” and you take off, running away from benedict and looking about the room when your eyes fall upon a wardrobe.

“what are you doing!” benedict whisper-shouts at you as you hasten towards your destination.

“i am trying to prevent you from being in trouble again with a certain eldest brother, and you ought to be doing the same!”

you open the door to the wardrobe, hop into it, and, grabbing the door’s edge, look at benedict and the adorable shock on his face.

“answer the door as i hide in here!” before he can babble out a response, you whisper-yell, “go!” and promptly, quietly, shut the wardrobe.

before long, you muffedly hear the clicking of the door and it being opened.  there is a bit of quiet until gregory’s voice asks—

“what happened to your hair?” 

“what of it?”

“it is a mess.  it has not been that messy since—”

“nevermind my hair!  what is it that you need?”

“have you seen y/n?”

“what?  why would i know of y/n’s whereabouts?”

“do not play foolish, brother.” 

“i am not playing foolish!”

“you two are always together!  you and y/n are like eloise and penelope, anthony and kate, colin and food— you never see one without the other, and she hasn’t been seen since her lessons.”

“i have not seen her; does that answer your inquiry?”

“why are you so on guard!  ugh, never you mind.  hyacinth and i will look for her on our own, with no thanks to you.”

before benedict can retort, you hear footsteps walking away from him and down the corridor.  there is another moment of quiet before you hear the shutting of the door and the turning of the key.  you slowly open the wardrobe, and when you see a disgruntled benedict and benedict only, you hop out and walk towards him, unable to contain the growing smile on your face.

“you shouldn’t be so harsh on gregory.  he was, after all, merely asking a question.”

“you’re taking his side?”

“of course i am.  he, along with hyacinth, are my favorite bridgertons.”

“and where do i fall on this list of yours?”

“eighth,” you reply easily, and benedict’s jaw drops, “but that’s merely on a technicality— i have yet to met daphne and francesca.”

“what have i done to be thought of so little in your regard!” benedict’s expression is aghast, but you see the ghost of a smile on his lips (that you certainly do not stare at for another moment too long).

“do not mistake your low ranking in how i care for you,” you tease but then soften, unable to keep up the lark over your truth.  “i care for you, benedict.  for all of you.  precisely as you are and what you feel and who you—” you swallow, “whoever you love.”

the jest and play fade away from his expression.  benedict simply stares at you, ocean eyes once again indecipherable.  before he can say anything, you step into his space and tidy his hair.

“you ruined your coif earlier,” you whisper.

“what fortune i have for someone to care for me so.”

his smile is so sweet, his voice so sincere, his ocean eyes so gentle.  it is too much, it is so much. 

“if you weren’t such a mischief maker,” you diverge, “you wouldn’t need such fortune.”

that makes him scoff, and you grin, quietly glad a new emotion begins to overtake your overwhelming one.

“wise words coming from a mischief maker herself.”

“a mischief maker who knows how to handle her trouble,” you respond pointedly. “speaking of which, i must be going,” and you turn from benedict and head towards the windows.

“and where are you going?” you hear the befuddled amusement in his inquiry as he follows you.  you unlatch a window.  

“i must leave by way of window and make it appear as if i have been out in the gardens this entire time,” you carefully open the window and peer outside.  no one in sight.  pleased, you turn around and are greeted by an adorably perplexed benedict.  “how else will we deceive the family into believing that we were not alone together?  particularly after gregory inquired after me and found you here.  it would not help our situation if we left the same room, even if at staggered times.”

“this is not the first time you have escaped home,” he declares matter-of-factly.

“of course it’s not.”

“yet another thing we have in common.”

you snort but then cover your mouth.  you turn around and peer out the window, hoping, willing that no one has heard you.  no one in sight still.  you sigh in relief and turn back to a grinning benedict.

“you are compromising my meticulous plans.”

“then you ought to be going.  i shan’t compromise you any further.”

you roll your eyes deeply, ignoring the double entendre (and the flush you feel creeping across your face), but soften.

“will you be all right?  are you all right?”

benedict inhales deeply and exhales equally so.

“i—— have much to think over.  of myself.  to myself.  but, it is a comfort to know that i am not alone in this.  in this experience, the feelings themselves, as well as in the navigation of them,” the corners of benedict’s mouth tug into a gentle but most radiant smile, his ocean eyes incandescent with joy.  “thank you, y/n.”

the butterflies flutter violently within.

“i, i have done nothing.”

“you have done more than you know.”

unable to withstand the intensity of his gaze, you turn back to the open window and steady your hands onto the sides of the frame, leveraging your weight against the ledge to lift yourself up.

“be that as it may,” you assert perhaps too forcefully, “i truly must be going now.” 

you carefully but easily shift your body over the ledge and place your boot against the exterior side of bridgerton house to start your descent.  you should just go—leave and neglect the violence of feelings within you.  but you do not.  instead, you look up and are greeted by the sight of benedict at the window, hands also steadied on the ledge, body leaning towards the outside and downwards, beaming at you, the afternoon sun casting light upon his now even more beautiful countenance.

shit.

you will yourself to focus.

“if you need or wish to speak again on this, you will let me know, yes?”

he still smiles but you see the subtlety of his ocean eyes transforming, from delight to… something else.  you don’t know what, benedict’s ocean eyes ever indecipherable in moments such as this, and it does nothing to quiet the flutterings within.

“i shall.  and hopefully in a manner that does not require your escape.”

“oh, this is nothing.”

“of course it’s not.”

you smile broadly, a particular burst of fondness and play and courage overcoming you—

“farewell, princess.”

and you begin your descent down bridgerton house.

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ II.vii ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

< kathani and y/n make a day of getting y/n a dress for the bridgerton ball.  they meet first at bridgerton house early in the morning, before the rest of the family is awake.  they break fast together, and kathani teaches y/n how to make masala chai.  y/n remarks that how kathani speaks of indian drink and food reminds y/n of how her parents talk about their drink and food from their home country.

< the conversation then grows into talking about how much the ocean intrigues y/n because of how her parents have talked about it, especially in their stories of emigrating to england by ship.  the mystery, beauty, comfort, fear, and joy of the ocean all in one entity.

< the conversation then shifts to kathani and y/n talking about the scrappiness of making do with what resources you have access to.  it makes y/n recount a memory with her mama when she had offered to give up buying ink, quills, and paper to support the family once her elder sister had married and left their family home. >

“it is a hobby, mama, it—”

“it is important,  she says pointedly.  “it is your passion.”  and she smiles.  “we have managed once with just my and papa’s wages, we shall manage now.  you need not worry, my child.” 

< eventually, kathani and y/n finish their breakfast.  they leave bridgerton house and hop into a bridgerton carriage to go to the modiste.  it is the first time y/n is in a carriage and it is a surreal, lovely experience.  it feels like a fairytale. >

–

< after arrival at the modiste and introductions, kathani decides to roam the markets of the neighborhood as madame delacroix tends to y/n in the back of the shop. >

“madame delacroix—”

“clients call me madame delacroix,” she interrupts.  you feel shame flood your body.  of course.  you are not a client.  you are a charity case.  at the whims of this wealthy family that has bestowed their pity on you.  how else would you be in such a position, in such a shop, before such a talented artist revered by the upper echelons of london.  you’re a fool, you wish to run away, you must go when you hear what madame delacroix says next—and she’s smiling.

“friends, however, call me genevieve,” she remarks with a wink.

…

“now, y/n, how would you feel about me being,” genevieve flourishes her hand in the air, “experimental with your dress?”

a combination of fear and excitement perk up within you.

“how do you mean?”

“the ton are quite—” she seems to fight hard not to roll her eyes but admits defeat to a sigh, “—conservative in their fashion—”

“you mean dreadfully dull?” you chime in.  genevieve laughs warmly.

“exactly, my dear,” she grins. “you, however, are anything but.  i see the french silhouettes more fitting to your character, to your personality, to your spark.”

you feel overwhelmed by the kindness of words that flow easily from the mouth of your new friend.  you have not known each other for more than ten minutes, and she seems to see something within you.  it makes you feel self-conscious, undeserving, and incredibly proud.

“i would be honored to be graced with the true magnificence of your artistry, genevieve.”

your friend’s eyes shine with joy, and you cannot help but feel utterly delighted that you were the one to ignite such happiness within her.

“my dear, the ton will be green with envy at the sight of you.  with your natural beauty and with my vision, you shall be an unstoppable force.”

you furrow your eyebrows at “natural beauty.”  you open your mouth to comment—

“is there any person you are looking to,” she hums, looking for the right word while looking for her measuring tape, “impress?”

“no,” you lie.  “i would not know anyone aside from the bridgertons and penelope.”

“ah, yes.  miss penelope,” the modiste says with much fondness in her heart. “she is quite brilliant, is she not?”

you beam.  “she truly is.”

“though,” genevieve ponders, wrapping the tape around your waist, “she is rather besotted with the third eldest bridgerton.”

“oh, yes, it is very appar— wait.  why do you say that?”

genevieve shrugs, but you give it more thought.

“are you implying that i have affections for penelope?”

you love penelope.  she has come to be one of your closest friends, and my god she is beautiful inside and out—but you have never felt an inkling for her beyond platonic love.

“i imply nothing—i’ve just said she’s besotted with the third eldest, did i not?” genevieve plays coy with a smile.  “and the viscount, he is very in love with the viscountess.”

“are you now implying that i have affections for anthony?” 

you feel your entire body shudder.  the idea of having any sort of love for the eldest bridgerton beyond one that is platonic makes you want to—  the very thought—

you put one hand to your mouth and the other to your stomach.  genevieve laughs, delighted by this game she’s inflicting upon you and entirely unperturbed by your potential sick in her shop.

“so,” she continues on, “with mister colin and lady kate and their beaus eliminated, unless you are of the temptress kind—”

“no!”

“then,” laughs genevieve, “that leaves three—”

“what do you mean ‘three’!”

“y/n, please, you are a terrible liar.  you have affections for one of your friends, that is clear.”

“i do not!” you lie again.  she tilts her chin down, looking at you pointedly.

“as i was saying, that leaves three.  there is miss francesca, miss eloise, and mister benedict.”

you feel yourself take in a small breath through your nostrils as you hear his name, and you pray that genevieve does not notice.  

“aha!” she declares.  your prayer has failed.  there is no god.  “ah, yes, mister benedict bridgerton.  the second eldest.”

you hold back a groan, not wanting to give your friend evidence to her (very much correct) claim, so instead you lift your head towards the ceiling.  when you snap it back down to look at her, you are startled by how her delighted expression from a mere moment ago has molded into an expression you cannot figure out.

“y/n, you must know,” she states, with so much sincerity in her tone.  you are entirely confused by this shift in genevieve, and your confusion only intensifies when she gently takes your hand into both of hers.

“benedict and i... we had been acquainted— intimately, at one point.”

oh.

“oh,” you respond pathetically.

the words should not affect you.  they should not affect you.  they should— not— affect you.

but—

you huff out a laugh.

“genevieve, why are you sharing this?  it’s all ri—”

“i share this with you,” she replies in earnest, “because while intimate, and yes, even passionate—” you try not to wince, “—it was brief and, most of all, not of depth,” she sighs. “but i can only speak for myself, can i?”

you swallow, hoping it will cure your dry throat, and with a smile say, “he is very lucky to have won your affections.”

“my dear.”

genevieve removes one of her hands from yours and brings it to the side of your face, softly wiping away a tear on your cheek.  you hadn’t noticed you had started crying.  you close your eyes, weak by and ashamed at the frailty of your heart, as you lean into the comfort of your friend’s hand.  

after a few moments, you feel her hand leave your cheek and feel your chin held between her thumb and forefinger, lifting up your head.  you open your eyes.

“anything i felt for him, i feel for him no more, y/n.  he is lucky to have your affections,” genevieve declares.  “and if benedict is an intelligent man, he must feel the same for you.”

you laugh.  

“benedict is a beautiful person who attracts beautiful people.  i am not a beautiful person.”

it is peculiar, how genevieve’s eyes flood with hurt as if you have offended her.  what did you say that has hurt her so?  you were only speaking of yourself.  before you can think further on it, the modiste steels her expression, fire suddenly blazing her eyes.

“well!  then i must prove to you what you fail to see, my dear!  i dare you not to feel beautiful in the dress i make for you.  and if you doubt your beauty,” she peers at you, “will you doubt my artistry?”

you laugh, this time sincerely, radiating gratitude for your new friend.  

“it would be foolish to doubt your artistry.”

genevieve beams.

“exactly.”

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ II.viii ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

you kick your feet off again, swinging yourself back and surging forward as you look up at the stars.  you try not to make too much noise.  you know it’s not proper to ambledly hang about your host’s back garden at night as they all slumber.  you feel as though you are taking advantage of the bridgertons’ kindness in allowing a pauper like you to stay the night at their home, in allowing you any time to stay at their home since making their acquaintance, in allowing—— you sigh again.  you could not sleep.  restlessness has entirely consumed you, and you had decided that some fresh air and some childlike fun would be exactly what you needed to calm your nerves.  while the cool air and the beauty of the night have been a welcomed reprieve, your heart still pounds and your mind still races with anxiety over the ball tomorrow night.

“couldn’t sleep?”

you slam the heels of your boots into the ground as you hear the familiar voice, doing everything in your power to ignore the flutters of butterflies in your stomach upon hearing it, and fall over onto your knees, planting your hands into the dirt so as not to completely and embarrassingly plant your face there instead.  you hear the body of the voice rushing towards you, offering his hand in your periphery.  you look up as benedict’s soft ocean eyes stare into you.  feeling your cheeks flood with warmth, you take your dirtied palm into his, promptly ignore the lightning that shoots out from the touch to the rest of your body, and lift yourself up with benedict’s gentlemanly assistance.  you murmur your thanks as you dust off, in vain, the dirt on your nightdress.

“i did not mean to startle you.”

“well, you have very clearly failed at that,” you remark.

after one last whoosh about your knees to clear off the excess dirt, you look up at benedict and are startled by the utter sincerity of his concerned look.  he looks as if he is about to say something, as if he is about to apologize, when you offer him a smile.

“i’m teasing you, benedict.”

he blinks once before breaking out into a smile, a smile that forcefully summons the butterflies within you to flutter about once again, and laughs.  you cannot help but smile and laugh with him.

“may i have the honor of sitting with you, miss y/l/n?”

you roll your eyes.

“it is your home after all, you need not my permission.”

“am i to ignore the privacy a lady wishes to have?”

“a lady’s privacy, i am sure, is something you wish to have for yourself,” you retort, alluding to your lack of such a title.

he swallows.

“that is something i cannot deny.”

something shifts in the air as benedict stares at you.  you feel yourself holding your breath and, in an attempt to shift away the energy from whatever this— this is (and how much it thrills and terrifies you), you playfully curtsy as you gesture to the swing next to the one that you had occupied.

“i would be delighted by your company, mr. bridgerton.”

the overwhelming gentleness of benedict’s expression transforms into an amused smile, and he follows along with an exaggerated bow of his head.  you take a seat at your swing as he takes his seat at the other on your left.

“i couldn’t,” you say in reply to his first question.  before he can ask why, you hastily jump into your inquiry.  “and why are you up?”

“i was sketching.  i had an idea for a painting and wished to lay out the preliminary work before it escaped me,” he sighs heavily, turning to look out to the rest of the garden.  you feel the loss of his gaze.  “i was frustrated with the results and thought some fresh air would do me some good.”

“what is the idea for your painting?”

he hesitates.

“a portrait,” he seems to admit carefully.  feeling how benedict wishes not to be pressed further, you simply hum an affirmation in response.

“i am certain that your sketch is not nearly as horrendous as you think it is.”

“i appreciate your kindness, but it entirely lacked their spark.”

“you seem quite fond of this person,” you huff with a bit of a laugh, jealousy starting to pool in the pit of your stomach.

benedict smiles.

“i am.”

and he turns to look at you.

you swallow, averting your gaze from soft intense ocean eyes, and kick your feet off the ground to begin a gentle swing.

“you should continue with the portrait,” you rattle on in a hasty attempt at diversion.  “not only are you blessed with natural talent but you are also fueled with such a passionate determination to ever improve your skill because that is how much you love your craft.  an undying devotion to something for which you so deeply care.  it is admirable and extremely apparent in all that you do.”

“and what of you?”

“and what of me?”

“of your passions?”

you scoff.

“my passions?”

“your writing.”

you halt your swing and whip your head to benedict.  he is grinning with stupid satisfaction, and you would find a way to wipe it off his stupid (beautiful) face if you were not so aghast by the situation.

“how do you know of that?”

“well, whenever you are not reading or conversing with eloise, penelope, and kate; or playing make-believe with my youngest siblings; or squabbling with colin and anthony, you are busily writing in a folded quarto.  or, rather, crossing in a folded quarto.  crossing twice, if you can manage.  you are quite the prolific writer.”

you gape at him, and he continues to grin.

“eloise also told me.”

“she told you!” you shriek.

“indeed.  it is, after all, how you met penelope, apparently.  and penelope is how you met eloise.  and eloise is how we— how you met the rest of us.”

you slump in your swing.

“i feel betrayed.”

benedict laughs heartily, and you shoot him a glare.  he holds his hands up in mock surrender.

“she was merely sharing a fact.”

“she is merely a traitor.”

benedict laughs once again, and you summon all the strength within you not to choke it out from his lungs.

“you seem not to handle perception of yourself very well, y/n.”

“when you are me, it is easy not to be perceived,” you mumble, still reeling from the traitorous nature of your loudmouthed friend.

there is a small silence.

“i do not think that is true.” 

you turn to him, once again surprised by the gentleness of his sincerity.

“i see you,” benedict declares in a quiet but steadfast voice.  his ocean eyes, indecipherable once more, gaze into you.

you feel yourself hold your breath, unable to stop the truth from ringing out in your heart, mind, body, and soul.

i love you.

you shoot up from your swing.

“i must be going, it is quite late—”

“y/n, wait—”

“thank you, benedict,” you say sincerely, turning to him.  “i— i really enjoyed our conversation, as brief as it was.”

he blinks and offers you a small smile.  i must control myself, you reprimand as you feel the butterflies viciously flutter within.

“as did i.”

“good night,” you whisper.  with all the self-control you can muster, you turn away from benedict and hasten towards bridgerton house.

“good night, y/n,” you vaguely hear him say from the swings that brought you together.  you attempt to tune out the wistfulness that you hear, that you imagine you hear in his voice.

[scoonsalicious]

6.3 Bucky

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language.

Word Count: 500

Previously On...: Lily tricked Bucky into going on a picnic date; they made plans for a "friend date" for later that evening.

A/N: Sorry this is late- I tried something new with the texts, but it took too long, so I don't know if I'll do it again, lol. Reminder: My break is starting today, so there will be no new updates until Thursday, May 23rd. I'm hoping to get a ton of writing done, but I won't leave you hanging for content, I promise!

If you ever feel so inclined to support my work, hop on over to buy me a coffee; it's much appreciated! <3

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

He was really hoping his plans with Lily would take his mind off of his fuckup with Major. He must have thought about calling her about seventy five thousand times, but each time he picked up his phone to dial her number, he saw her shrug in his mind’s eye when he asked if he could call her later. Lily may have been wrong about the reasoning, but what if she had been right about the gist of it– If Major really wanted him to call her, wouldn’t she have said so? It was driving Bucky crazy.

So, he agreed to a night out with Lily as a distraction. After their impromptu picnic, he’d walked her back to her car and they’d set back off to the Compound, where Bucky napped and took a shower. He was just deciding what to wear to dinner in a few hours when a text came through on his phone. He almost did a double take when he saw it was from Major.

Sugar: Can we talk?

Bucky’s heart sped up at the sight of her words. She wanted to talk. This was good, right? 

Bucky bit his lip. Lily would understand if he had to cancel, right? He’d explained to her how much he liked Major, how upset he was when he thought he’d blown it with her. She’d get why it was so important for him to meet with Major tonight. They could do a raincheck on their friend-date.

Okay, she was putting the ball in his court. Bucky wracked his brain, trying to come up with an idea that would be spontaneous, but also romantic, so he could show her that he was serious about her, about making this thing between them work. An idea struck him suddenly, and though it wasn’t very original of him, all things considered, it was perfect. Absolutely perfect. He was just going to need a few hours to get everything ready. Glancing at his phone, he realized he needed to get in gear; he didn’t have a lot of time, and there were things to do.

>> DROPPED A PIN

>> Meet me here at 7:30pm.

A few hours later, Bucky was doing his final set up preparations. He checked his phone– Major should be arriving any minute, and if he said he didn’t have butterflies in his stomach, he’d be lying. He nearly jumped out of his skin when his phone buzzed with an incoming text, but it was just from Lily.

Shit. In his haste to get everything prepared for Major, Bucky had completely forgotten he’d made dinner plans with Lily. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

It was a long moment before the three dots appeared on his screen, indicating Lily was typing.

Bucky smiled at his phone, not sure why he had been so nervous about telling Lily he was dating Major in the first place. 

<- Previous Part / Next Chapter ->

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Am I the asshole for getting mad at my mom for finishing my baking for me?

For context I love baking, but hardly ever eat the finished product myself. This is because I bake for the fun of it and I have plenty of family and friends that like eating what I make so it's never a waste.

I've been making some cinnamon rolls recently and the several batches I've made my mom comes in and bakes them before I can. It's not that she just preheats the oven and puts em in after they finish rising, she literally does everything after the initial dough has risen. She'll roll it out before it has time to rise the first time, add 1/3 of the butter and sugar I use, cut it into 1/2 inch-1 inch, and/or not let it finish rising the 2nd time once it's in the pan. Of the last 4 attempts 3 came out overcooked and hard.

She does this with a lot of my baking where I'll make the dough and be able to do nothing else cause she goes in and does literally everything else in the baking process. I've asked her multiple times to stop because what's the point if I'm not the one doing it? I've told her it takes all the fun out of it and there's no point in me baking if she's just gonna do all of it. She'll either respond with her saying she's sorry and she'll stop doing it (then proceed to finish my next batch) or say it's better if she does it cause I don't know what I'm doing and would fuck it up (she uses nicer words but also a several minute lecture on how prideful I am so that's the gist). And yeah, half the things I make it would be better, but I'll never get better if she keeps doing this and it's not like what I'm making is bad. And the other half the things I make don't taste better! It usually ends up in the trash cause no one wants to eat it. And if I can't get my family to eat it I'm not taking it to work for my friends to try. But even if everything I made tasted better when she makes it that's not the point!

Yesterday I made some more dough for cinnamon rolls and let it rise overnight. I woke up today and was gonna finish them before work but they were already out of the oven. She was telling me how she finished them for me and I sort of just hummed in acknowledgement. She kept pushing and it was clear she was looking for a thank you but I just said she didn't use as much butter and sugar I usually did. She said "yeah well how am I supposed to know how much you use on there?" And I just walked away after. She came later and said "you're welcome for finishing those for you. I even got it done before you had to go to work" and I said "I didn't thank you" when she got mad I yelled and said "stop touching my shit! I've told you before there's literally no point in me making anything if you're just gonna take the fun out of it!"

Now she's mad and I feel bad cause I was very passive aggressive with her and I probably shouldn't have yelled but I'm tired of this conversation every time I bake.

Aita?

What are these acronyms?

[neomel]

Alrighty fellow insane sonic fans i have something very cool for you today: a WORLDBUILDING theory!! this is something that's been kicking around in my head for so long that i forget it isn't something I've shared with many others yet lol

[ This post primarily covers stuff from Sonic Adventure, Sonic Adventure 2 and Sonic Advance, and ignores Sonic Chronicles and Sonic Pocket Adventure as they have been struck from canon (see: Encyclo-speed-ia) ]

[ It should also be noted that this theory is built on the idea that "the world" as depicted in Sonic Forces is not accurately depicting the entire globe, but rather depicting Eggman's takeover of just the island archipelago where the animal cast lives (South Island, West Side Island, Mirage Island, Northstar Islands, Angel Island) as to explain its geography and lack of human characters ]

Right! So, a big theme in the environmental design of the original Sonic Adventure was having the Sonic cast sort of "cross over" into the human world more - the wording on this was initially nebulous, but with updated translations and clearer official word recently, we now know that it means that the "human world" is moreso like a mainland populated by humans that exists separately from the animal-inhabited island archipelago of Sonic 1, 2, CD, 3&K and Superstars (see: Sonic Origins). My immediate first point of comparison - of all things - is something like the first Madagascar movie, where the lemurs are able to be a fully functioning society in a region completely isolated from humans.

Except it's not quite like that movie, is it? We see in Sonic Adventure (and further in Unleashed, 06) that animal characters like Sonic and c.o are able to exist just fine within the human world, to where Amy has flat-out moved into Station Square. Big and Tails, too, have settled down by the Mystic Ruins close to where Angel Island (sometimes) crashes down by, Rouge owns a club in Sonic Battle - you get the gist. Animal characters, the majority population of the islands as we see in Forces and the IDW series, are able to migrate into the "mainland" human societies, but it appears to still be a rarity, likely not even something everyone has the opportunity to do (Big might've been born on Angel Island, Tails and/or Sonic can fly any of Sonic's friends to wherever they want to go, etc.). The most contact humans have with the animal world is through the Mystic Ruins site, or Eggman using his excessive wealth to fly in and try and effectively colonize the islands as we see in Sonic 1, 2, Superstars, CD, 4.1 and 4.2 (for note: CD, 4.1 and 4.2 take place on the same island of Mirage Island)

Sonic Adventure 2's level select is obviously to be taken with a grain of salt as a stylized take on a world map, but it seems to infer the same thing that Origins' main menu and Angel Island's close proximity to the Mystic Ruins both corroborate - the island archipelago inhabited by the animal characters seems to be quite close to the mainland "United Nations" landmass, most evidently close to Rouge's Route 280 level. And given how often Eggman lays his sights on the islands as a primary target for his schemes (Heroes may well also be taking place on the islands, as Seaside Hill is confirmed to be near/on South Island), it would make sense from the United Nations' POV to try and make access to the islands more accessible. For example, to enable easier import and export of goods, help citizens evacuate from possible disaster (eg. how the Metal Virus in IDW described how it was impossible to evacuate to anywhere else but Angel Island), and so on - a way to connect the two societies more smoothly only makes sense.

With ALL that context and preamble out of the way, this is my theory, and where Sonic Advance finally comes into the picture:

Radical Highway in Sonic Adventure 2, and later Neo Green Hill Zone from Sonic Advance, were together depicting a brief attempt to connect South Island to the United Nations mainland.

You may think this is a bit of a nutty conclusion to draw given how little of a story Sonic Advance actually has, but I think there's a lot we can glean from just the environmental design of Neo Green Hill Zone alone. Compared to the original Green Hill Zone, and most of the levels in the Classic Sonic games that aren't just flat-out urban cities/facilities seemingly built under Eggman's control (Star Light, Spring Yard, Chemical Plant), Neo Green Hill Zone's touches of human infrastructure are far more...friendly, for a lack of a better word. There's parasols and wooden scaffolding, a grind rail or two along paved sidewalks, yet the natural beauty of the area is left entirely in tact. Nothing about it appears like Eggman's work, yet it is quite evidently structured for human interests, for tourism and walking/biking rather than all the funky ways in which Sonic's animal cast are comfortable moving around. Then there's of course the name: NEO Green Hill Zone, as if it's reinvigorating the idea for a fresh new facelift, re-marketing it!

But how does all that connect to Radical Highway?

Radical Highway (and Mission Street by extension) have a quirk unique to them when compared to almost all other urban city levels in the series - as you can see in the image above, they're themed around still being under construction. Compared to a level like Lethal Highway from Shadow the Hedgehog (or the aforementioned Route 280 from SA2) the holes and gaps in Radical Highway are presented as being specifically because the winding roads are still under construction. You can see this on the level map above too - Route 280 and Route 101 appear to be part of a long, linear, already-finished stretch of road, wheras the area of Radical Highway and Mission Street is filled with gaps, inlets and breaks in the road. Route 101/Route 280 already appear to fill the function of letting people cross between the two city areas depicted on Adventure 2's world map...so then, what exactly is the construction and general wobblyness of Radical Highway for?

Well, let's look at Sonic Advance again: Specifically, the end of the Neo Green Hill Zone stage, and the way the game progresses immediately thereafter:

The natural beach environment of Neo Green Hill Zone Act 2 suddenly bows out before the Eggman boss fight to give way to something quite interesting: A red bridge extending out from the island's coast. The bridge's architecture doesn't quite match that of Radical Highway, most notably using tall suspension wires hooked up to some off-screen upper portion of the construction, but I think the idea alone is fascinating enough: This is drastically more modern architecture compared to the rickety wooden bridges otherwise seen in Green Hill Zone. We're still a bit unsure of if Advance 1 takes place before or after Sonic Adventure 2, but if it's before - it may also be possible that the work on this bridge began on the South Island end of things *before* the mainland Radical Highway-end were finished with their work, with the idea of joining the two bridges somewhere in the middle.

Let's again also consider where this bridge takes our characters in Advance - to Secret Base Zone, a shockingly urban facility which we still don't really know the location of. Sonic and c.o need to zip-line into its entrance, with a background that only features light and buildings far off into the distance - is it possible that the Secret Base exists sort of like an oil rig in the middle of the ocean, inbetween South Island and the mainland, as some sort of production facility for the UN? Regardless, it serves as a pit-stop in the Advance campaign - after it, we can pretty cleanly chart a roadmap for where the cast travels. Casino Paradise's ocean background seemingly depicts it as being part of the coastline (bottom left of the SA2 map), Ice Mountain is pretty clearly meant to be another area of Ice Cap Zone given how it leads to the Angel Island Zone - which is, in reality, a dilapidated Sky Sanctuary. Effectively, the campaign seems to go from South Island, to the bridge connecting South Island to the mainland, to a coastside Vegas-like casino wonderland built by Eggman, which is near the Mystic Ruins and thus near Angel Island by extension (it may be connected to Night Carnival from Sonic Rush?). And all of it connected thanks to the works of a bridge, seemingly set up in Adventure 2 with Radical Highway being under construction, possibly with the goals to connect the two core parts of Sonic's world.

Whew! That's pretty much all the words I have, and I've now reached the max cap of images per posts. I truly don't know how many Sonic fans care about these granular details and concepts about the environment of Sonics world in games from 20+ years ago, but I hope it got some gears turning - and if there is some merit to this, it may further get you wondering as to why the path connecting the two was seemingly cut off in the end? Given the cityscapes we see in Forces and IDW, it's possible that this mutual relation between the two worlds lasted for a fair while - what could've possibly led to that bond being broken? Maybe Unleashed breaking the world apart had something to do with it...

Thanks for reading this far if you did - and feel free to add your own ideas or things I might've missed in all of this!

[severus-snaps]

Legilimency & Occlumency & Emotion

i was reading something somewhere (possibly on my binge of metas last night, but who knows) that Snape was very talented at Occlumency, but just about average at Legilimency - but I respectfully disagree, and here's a whole (3k word) accidental ramble about it, which started as an observation and devolved into how I think Legilimency/Occlumency works in the context of Snape and Voldemort, and why I interpret it differently than it being (entirely) magical dissociation and actually quite an emotion-based skill once it's more complex TLDR: I've often seen Occlumency described/conceptualised as a "shield" or some kind of suppressed emotionless state, but I discovered upon writing this that I think it can be quite a bit more complex and emotional, actually - just like Snape <3

Snape's Talents

The idea that got me rambling today went something like "Draco, who only had a handful of lessons from Bellatrix, was able to keep Snape out of his mind using Occlumency - so Snape can't have been a very good Legilimens, or Occlumency was easy to do"

And I do agree that Snape was probably better at Occlumency than Legilimency by sheer quantity of practice alone - and also that, outside of using it on Harry (and Draco) when they were up to mischief, and Snape likely wishing he could use it to work out what Dumbledore was hiding from him, Snape had no desire to see, hear, interpret or otherwise get the gist of what anyone at Hogwarts was thinking - but especially not a bunch of pubescent students, nor colleagues who liked him on a surface level but obviously were not close enough to think Something Was Up when he killed Dumbledore (which, fair in some ways, unfair in others, but I digress)

[side note: Snape can't have just not used Occlumency for over a decade before Voldemort's return, so I like to think of him and Dumbledore practicing to keep his skills sharp - although I expect that would be another 'fun' way for Dumbledore to hold Snape in chains which would make for an interesting fic]

I suspect that if Snape had chosen to, he could've invaded Draco's mind in that scene, broken through whatever defenses Draco used - but that's not a very Snape thing to do to a student, and especially not one he knows well, was a family friend of, has closely seen grow up, and probably has a soft spot for. It's very reminiscent of his conversation with Narcissa, to me. Throughout that entire conversation with Draco, Snape was trying to comfort Draco, empathise with him, get Draco to trust him, confide in him, offer support to Draco whether he wanted it or not - not further alienate him to a point where Snape couldn't help. And besides, invading Draco's mind aggressively doesn't sit very well with his vow "to the best of your ability, protect him from harm".

And as for Harry's lessons, Harry was using spells - which Snape seemed surprised, interested, and almost impressed to learn that were effective against Legilimency, which isn't surprising in itself as it's not a widely used area of magic. And since Harry had no idea that Snape (and probably Dumbledore) were 'reading his mind' for years before he learnt about Legi/Occlumency, I don't expect many people would know if Snape used it, or put up a fight using those methods - other Death Eaters probably stuck to Occluding, because it would hardly garner any favour if they cast a stinging hex or Protego at Voldemort or in a DE meeting Which brings me back to my other point as well, which was that "Occlumency possibly wasn't difficult to do". On a rudimentary level that might be true (at least insofar as any advanced magic was difficult to do - Harry was actually quite talented, e.g. casting a corporeal patronus at 13/14 or whatever, and Draco could do it after a few lessons with Bellatrix). Harry learnt almost despite Snape, because he didn't take instruction from him well and because Snape is (intentionally) abrasive in lessons (which I could go on about, since Snape couldn't really be nice to Harry when Voldemort was possibly looking through harry's eyes at any given moment - and as other metas have pointed out was another layer to Snape's rage when Harry looked at his memories). But Snape could do it without a wand, without an incantation, so he was reasonably skilled - imagine casting a full body Patronus or other impressive spell with neither a wand nor an incantation

Also we don't know precisely how long Draco had lessons for, it might have been loads and he was actually pretty good, or it might have been 3 and he was awful. But unlike Snape, who is not the greatest Legilimens of all time (that's apparently Voldemort?), it was glaringly obvious to him that Draco was using Occlumency - Snape had him sussed in like 3 seconds, and chose not to go any further for the reasons I outlined above - which interestingly he did not do with Harry, when faced with finding out where Harry learnt Sectumsempra (but at that point both Snape and Draco's life had been on the line - if Draco dies, presumably so does Snape?)

Which brings me back to Snape... How I think Legilimency/Occlumency works (sometimes)

You have no subtlety The mind is a complex and many-layered thing It is true, however, that those who have mastered Legilimency are able, under certain conditions, to delve into the minds of their victims and to interpret their findings correctly. The Dark Lord, for instance, almost always knows when somebody is lying to him. Only those skilled at Occlumency are able to shut down those feelings and memories that contradict the lie, and so utter falsehoods in [Voldemort's] presence without detection.

There's a lot to take in there, and also pretty ballsy to say to Voldemort-by-proxy (Harry), which might reduce the validity of my idea that Snape didn't want to be nice to Harry during their lessons in case Voldemort was watching, since Snape's pretty happy to give Voldemort (and the reader, more likely) a complete insight into what he's himself doing... although I expect that Voldemort has considered this, and also doesn't recognise the limits of his own power - or the extent of Snape's.

I also wonder whether the 'certain conditions' are something simple, like eye contact being made or the spell being cast, or whether there's something to the mental state of the 'caster' at the time as well, like there is with Occlumency walls/shields and being calm and empty-headed, or whether the conditions is the Occluder themselves presenting (or not presenting) some alternative things to interpret. One of the wizarding world (I think) pages says Snape trained a 'slight natural ability', so that makes me wonder more, as well, but i digress.

But my second point is this: Snape's talents weren't Occluding by total shutdown, or Occlumency 'shields' which always now irk me in fanfiction (this I'm definitely drawing from another meta but I have no idea where, so... apologies). Snape wasn't throwing up a wall in front of entire memories or thoughts, for the most part. Although I expect that between the Pensieve and Draco's example use of Occlumency, that was sometimes a function (e.g. some of the things Dumbledore told Snape to pass along, he'd have to entirely block out, alter, or otherwise adapt those memories to make it look as though Snape had passed information along of his own volition against Dumbledore's orders, or hide the fact that he'd helped Dumbledore when he was supposed to be helping Voldemort, etc).

So inkeeping with my own questionable metaphor, where Draco threw up a wall - metaphorically crumbling, last-minute, cowboy builder Occlumency where the wall would hold but you could see it very clearly and obviously; where with a lesser Occlumens the wall was nice enough, but you could see where the paint job didn't quite match up and the plastering wasn't done very evenly; Snape had the whole house set up so that you didn't know the wall wasn't there from the start, and probably had a few artfully chosen scuffs to make it seem real, or it was some kind of trapdoor under the carpet. (okay the metaphor died, but I've been watching a lot of remodelling shows lately, you get the point if you've read this far)

In another metaphor I imagine detecting a lie to be like running your fingertips along a smooth surface and finding a lip or a bump - you could then, pick at it, poke at it, tear it open. You could sense that something was being hidden, or withheld. But there were no lips or snags in Snape's thoughts; potentially Voldemort could simply not detect them, not even when he searched him openly, repeatedly, full eye contact, at the table at Malfoy Manor. Snape welcomed Voldemort into his (it's just occurred to me, but "mind palace") and Voldemort repeatedly, for years, could not tell that anything was amiss, and presumably Voldemort did this with much more ferocity (and skill) than Snape looking at Harry for 2 seconds and immediately summoning Harry's mental image of the Prince's copy of Advanced Potions Making

But it can't be down to detection alone. There's also a level of interpretation to Legilimency. So here I'm focusing on a more interesting aspect to me, which is how emotion is used in Legilimency/Occlumency. Obviously, Snape isn't Occluding all the time, and as much as I adore Alan Rickman, book!Snape was naturally a total petty, stuttering mess (love him for it) who only wishes he had Alan Rickman's gravitas, and could on occasion emulate it.

I told you to empty yourself of emotion! … Fools who wear their hearts proudly on their sleeves, who cannot control their emotions, who wallow in sad memories and allow themselves to be provoked this easily — weak people, in other words — they stand no chance against his powers!

I think this quote is interesting for many reasons I probably won't be able to connect properly and are in no particular order beyond how I thought of them

Snape is emotional here when he says it, he's angry, annoyed, upset, and it's an honest feeling, and he's obviously not devoid of emotion but can still Occlude Harry

Snape is an emotional person, much as he tries to pretend not to be, and can still Occlude Voldemort just fine even on the night he thinks he's marching to his death at the end of GoF

Much like how many other kinds of magic require lots of study and a strong emotion/will/conscious thought at the start, perhaps it become easier with experience to the point where this advice is not essential (e.g. kind of like driving, I no longer have to think about changing gears like I did as a Learner)

Snape is also talking about himself here, indicative of Snape's worldview where showing 'weak' emotions is the problem - soft emotions, vulnerability, "never tell".

"Provoke" is exactly what Voldemort does to Harry

This is Occlumency 101; Snape's teaching Harry the most basic of Occlumency - to compartmentalise, to block someone out, to throw up that shoddy but sturdy-enough wall for Voldemort to come up against, like Draco did to Snape. Harry's anger and emotion is a weakness in this basic Occlumency lesson, where Voldemort is trying to look through Harry and/or trick/provoke him; thus, the wall.

But this probably isn't the kind of Legilimency Voldemort would use on Snape (which is to see if he's lying, if his information is real, if his values are aligned, etc), and it probably isn't the kind of Occlumency Snape was doing in return, to lie or deflect suspicion or ingratiate himself. In fact, throwing up a wall is the opposite of what Snape does with Voldemort; Snape lets him in, lets him stare him down in front of an audience, all the while showing Voldemort what he wants to see. I think as well there's an element of a Legilimens 'grasping' for something, searching, "provoking", like how Snape 'grasped' for Harry's memories of Advanced Potions Making, how Voldemort appears to search Snape at Malfoy Manor - so if all Snape presents is a memory, empty, devoid of any complexity, Voldemort would question it.

In my interpretation, when Occluding, Snape displays a different type of emotional control; Complex Occlumency means you control your emotions, yes, but not block them off - Snape takes his emotions where they need to go, makes them do what they need to do, to support the interpretation he wants Voldemort to reach. He chooses to some extent what Voldemort sees if he lies outright or omits details (a well made wall, basic Occlumency), and chooses how to present it (complex Occlumency). And he does it with subtlety; he doesn't often outright lie, and there's a lot left to interpretation - in both Snape's speech (with Bellatrix) and his actions throughout the books, and presumably his Occlumency.

So I suggest that Snape, in a situation with Voldemort, must be able to "lift up" or "lean into" an alternative emotion for interpretation - the decoration around the wall, the interior design, if you will. For example, Snape couldn't tell Voldemort that he desired Lily, in a total absence of any feelings at all, without it coming across as false and thus easily detectable as a lie. And you know that when a young Snape, who's hardly made a name for himself (Snape's likely never killed, at least, and isn't especially memorable to anyone in Azkaban and is last named by Karkaroff, and other things I won't go into here) outside of overhearing half a prophecy begs for a Mudblood Order member who's the mother of Voldemort's downfall who's thrice defied him to be spared, you can bet that Voldemort will want to thoroughly find out why, so...

To me this suggests that there was a level of desire there that Snape could 'lean into', whether that desire be for Lily or someone else he found desirable to act as a kind of substitute - though given that Legilimency seems to work on mental images and memories at least in part, a memory where he desired Lily would've been useful. And I'm just using that as an example, because Voldemort would also presumably at some stage have interrogated what Snape thought of Dumbledore and Harry, and Snape would've had to lean into feelings of hatred and loathing - which he'd manage just fine for Harry, but Snape would have leant into his feelings after Dumbledore silenced him after nearly getting eaten by a werewolf and again freeing Sirius in PoA, but I digress

When Harry finally learns Occlumency (by his own admission) in the wake of Dobby's death, it's grief that helps him master it - which, for me personally, is not a detached, clear-headed feeling in any sense. It's visceral, emotional, and painful; all-consuming. It's love/grief/loss/strong loving emotion that forces Voldemort out, after he loses Sirius and again when he loses Dobby. But it's a contrast to the emotions Voldemort uses of Harry's to draw Harry out, via his fears for Sirius. But with grief, Harry's dived headfirst into feeling what Voldemort doesn't want to feel (unlike the anger), to keep Voldemort out of his mind. Whereas Snape would do the opposite, and dive right in to the feelings Voldemort would want to sense - to the exclusion of others. Would Voldemort even think to search for Snape's love for Lily, if he was first presented with something more visceral, with more negative connotations, like desire or jealousy, hurt or betrayal? These are the emotions Voldemort thrives on and can exploit, that he's familiar with, that he understands. In the context then of 'grasping' that's how I think Snape leads Voldemort down a path of believing him - by bringing honest 'negative' emotions to the fore that Voldemort understands.

this is really where I think skilled Occlumency differs from dissociation or wall-building. I think Snape would simultaneously have to dampen his 'lie' feelings and to raise the volume on the 'fitting' feelings for his chosen interpretation. My interpretation of this all stems from my experience of writing, of getting lost in music, in using those activities to "wallow" in certain feelings. Snape does not present Voldemort with his true feelings, but they are real feelings. So in that way, I feel Snape was like an artist or writer; he felt deeply, he felt conflictingly, and dived headfirst into those wells of emotion when he needed to - diving so deeply that it cuts off and hides the conflicting evidence. I feel that when I'm writing, when I'm listening to music, when I'm wallowing. And I feel a lot of sympathy for Snape, because it can feel like a real whiplash when you're midway through writing an intense scene or listening to some excellent music that really fills you up with something, it can take you to some dark places, and it's quite shocking somehow when abruptly interrupted - which would be what his life was constantly like after Voldemort's return, leaning into and shying away from/shutting down emotions and memories he didn't necessarily feel whenever he was called, and then having to return to work or meetings in that headspace, where everything feels out of touch and you're in internal turmoil. (Granted, I can snap out of it because the music or the writing is neither here nor there, really, but he'd be doing it with his own life experiences, with his own life on the line, and to repay a debt of guilt - there's a lot more emotional baggage there, and even more once Dumbledore died). And I think it would take its toll in other ways, too, which leads me to Lily...

Far from some people's cries that possessive or obsessive attraction or desire is some huge moral failing, I'd argue that you'll find a level of it in most teenagers and indeed the regular spectrum of human emotion - I know I've certainly experienced feelings of intense jealousy and whatever 'Snaters' (I'm not a massive fan of the term, but as a shorthand) accuse Snape of, whether I acted on it or not. So I'd suggest that Snape 'leant into' that for the sake of being on the receiving end of Voldemort's Legilimency. Whether Snape regularly, or actually, felt those emotions of his own free will or not is hard to say - since there's no actual evidence he did act possessive or jealous beyond the normal teenager level (and that's without addressing the fact that we didn't know how he would've ended the sentence "I won't let you -"). And I'd also go as far as to say that Snape probably, truly, had some awful thoughts (don't we all?) and so he was able to lean into some very dark and gloomy nooks and crannies of his mind, the parts we're told healthy people steer clear of acting on but also undoubtedly experience (jealousy, possession, rage, bitterness) in much the same way as a writer, artist, or musician might, to make his 'lies' and the stories he told more 'truthful' - which was why Voldemort trusted him so much.

TLDR: Snape's a man of many contraditions and very much emotional depth, and he manipulated his own emotions (likely to the detriment of his mental health) for years. But just as I, a fanfic writer, can vicariously experience the bitter resentment for a person who doesn't love me, can imagine a world where he can think those thoughts, embody them, and still not take them on as part of his identity.

anyway i don't have a conclusion, I just had thoughts

[Side note not strictly related to ANY of the above: I find it interesting as well that Voldemort's skill is apparently specifically in working out whether people are lying to him, suggesting that you could specialise even further into different aspects of behaviour. But people do lie to Voldemort (Narcissa, Snape, off the top of my head, but there's no indication of Voldemort using Legilimency on Narcissa in that moment where Harry lives - Voldemort was too elated, once again caught up in his own glory). [side side note: Harry's treatment after his 'death' does make me wonder, briefly, about Snape's own treatment when he returned at the end of GoF - public torture and humiliation, an opportunity for the other DEs to turn on one of their own to 'increase their own standing' in Voldemort's eyes, crucio to weaken Snape's defences, to check that his information and loyalty true? i get the impression that Snape shared his information with Voldemort privately, given that Bellatrix didn't seem to know much about Snape's return, but who's to say there wasn't some 'fun' beforehand, or at other points during his time as spy]

[literallygwenstacy]

Since it’s June 2nd, I thought I’d yap a little about Across the Spider Verse in honor of it turning a year old today 🫶🏻

I love this movie so damn much, it helped me through so many tough times. Usually my hyperixations die out within a couple weeks or months, but this movie has my heart. Start to finish, the visuals are so gorgeous. The love put into this movie is indescribable. I went to go see it in theaters with a few of my friends on June 11th, and to be honest, I did NOT expect to love it as much as I do, and I sure as hell didn’t expect to still be obsessing over it a whole year later. Obviously I had high expectations since I loved the first film but it still blew me away. Everything is just perfect, even the ending. This movie is SO re-playable aswell. Every time I rewatch it I keep noticing small details I didn’t see before. It’s genuinely so well written which is rare among superhero movies these days.

Seeing this movie in theaters for the first time was the greatest cinema experience of my life and I will never forget it, this film really changed my life. I absolutely love the characters. Miles is such a great protagonist and in my opinion; the best Spider-Man. Gwen is relatable as hell and her story is so fleshed out. She’s such a human character, she just shows so much emotion. The side cast is great too. I love Hobie, Pav, Miguel, Peter, Jess, etc. I didn’t hate a SINGLE character in this movie. They managed to make me empathize with almost every character in the film because they’re all so well written.

I love how this movie has its fair share of humorous scenes and emotional ones. All of the scenes with Gwen and her dad made me tear up, not to mention how the background constantly changes colors reflecting their emotions. Gwen’s world as a whole is just so mesmerizing. The cast, the animation, the voice acting, the soundtrack, the emotion, the foreshadowing, the fight scenes, I could go on and on and on forever. You get the gist of it, this movie means the world to me, words seriously can’t describe how much I love it. I can’t believe it’s been a year already, time really does fly 😭 This movie will always hold a special place in my heart, I love it way too much <3 Happy birthday ATSV 🕷️💞🕸️ (Conclusion: 10/10 MUST WATCH ‼️)

[vaspider]

Hi, you seem like someone who thinks about these kinds of things a lot so maybe you can give some additional perspective on this queer question I've got.

A conversation that I had with two of my cis gay friends years ago still gives me thought to this day. I don't remember the exact verbage, but the gist was that they emphasized how their experiences with bi men tended to not be great because of flakiness, unresolved internal homophobia, etc. Fair, I thought.

However I felt that the conversation took a turn when one of them said that they wouldn't want to date or sleep with men who self identify as bi anymore. I felt that it was bad to generalize like that and still-then-closeted me called him out saying, like, isn't that biphobia? But he just laughed and the conversation ended there.

Fast forward to today and I still don't really know how to put into words why I feel that I'm right. A parallel I see now is how sometimes people of any sexuality will claim that trans people are ""forcing"" people to have sex with them because they get called out for saying the analogous thing as above but replace bi with trans. And I understand that it's a Bad Thing To Say, but I still don't know how we as a community know where to draw the lines in our rhetoric, or when to challenge generalizations like that.

It took me a long time to answer this because I would get halfway through the post and just feel vaguely ill. That sort of behavior was like, really common when I was younger.

It is deeply unfortunate that a lot of queer people will take bad experiences with a couple of people and generalize them to an entire identity/community and think that this is okay, but unfortunately, that does happen. It was biphobic then, and it is transphobic now.

There's not much you can do about it when people are taking their personal trauma and trying to make it the fault of an entire group of people, though. It's not like you can make people go to therapy. Sometimes you just gotta go 'welp, that's between you and your therapist,' and gently detach from 'em.

[hanadulsetaad]

RICH KIDS OF SK ( HYUNJIN X READER (Y/N) X BANG CHAN)

THE HWANG ART GALA

reader : part one part two, PART FOUR

TAGS: LOVE TRIANGLE, ANGST, BREAKUP, BETRAYAL

As Y/N dashed through the corridors of the college building, her heart pounding in her chest, she couldn't help but curse the chaotic night that had led to this mad rush. Wooyoung, I.N, and she had indulged in a bit too much alcohol and ended up bleaching their hair and wreaking havoc on Wooyoung's belongings. It took Felix's midnight rescue mission to restore some semblance of order, and by the time they settled down, the sun was already peering through the windows. After that they thought it will be fun to make tanghulu and make mukbang videos, and it was 8am by the time they were done.

So there she was, sprinting to class, desperately hoping to avoid any awkward encounters with Yeji and Hyunjin As she glanced back, she caught sight of another latecomer, a guy with curly hair and boba eyes, looking equally harried but undeniably attractive in his all-black ensemble.

Their eyes met, and without a word, he fell into step beside her. "Room 203?" he asked, his voice slightly breathless.

"Yeah," Y/N confirmed, relieved to have some company in her tardiness. "Let's stick together and minimize the scolding."

"By the way, I'm Bang Chan," he offered with a charming smile.

"Hey, I'm Seo Y/N," she replied, returning the smile as they found seats at the back of the room, accompanied by Bang Chan's friend Seungmin.

As they settled in, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling of Hyunjin's curious gaze from the middle row. What was that weird look about? She pondered, silently hoping that their morning wouldn't get any more eventful than it already had been. but a notification poped on her phone.

Teacher: "I think everyone understood what I am saying."

Y/N looked up as Seungmin cleared his throat, "Since you were not listening, you, me, and Bang Chan are partners for the first internal."

Y/N replied, "Oh, sorry, I had an emergency. Can you please give me a gist?"

Seungmin rolled his eyes, "We have to work together throughout the semester, basically work on a fake company and pitch ideas and all. You will get a mail today."

Seungmin added, "By the way, my name is Kim Seungmin."

Y/N replied, "My name is Seo Y/N."

Seungmin asked, "Are you Changbin's sister?"

Y/N confirmed, "Oh, yes."

Bang Chan chimed in, "You're Bin's sister?"

Seungmin teased, "Well, she has the same surname and dumb look on her face."

Y/N smiled, realizing what Seungmin implied, "Hey, I don't look dumb like Bin. But how do you guys know him?"

Bang Chan explained, "Oh, I met him through night music school."

Y/N puzzled, "Music school?"

Before she could ask anything, Hyunjin cleared his throat, and all three of them looked at him. He was with Yeji, holding hands.

Hyunjin semi-hugged Y/N, "I saved you a seat, you know. Now we both won't be on the same project, very good."

Y/N thought, "How can he be so normal?"

Y/N replied, "Haha, it's fine."

Hyunjin gave Bang Chan and Seungmin a look and asked Y/N in a hushed tone, "Are you fine with doing your project with them? I mean, it has 70 percent of your grade."

Seungmin jumped in, "You know we can hear you, Prince?" (He called him prince in a mocking way)

Y/N retorted, "Hey, Hyunjin, don't be rude. Besides, yes, they are Changbin's friends."

Hyunjin brushed it off, "Whatever," after giving Seungmin one last dirty look and continued, "Can't wait for today's after-party. It's been like so long since we last talked. Also, I need to talk to you. Do you want to ride with me and Yeji?"

Y/N immediately replied, "Oh, no, I am gonna stay back and talk with them about the project."

Hyunjin said, "Okay, see you later," and Yeji smiled at Y/N.

Y/N banged her head on the desk after Hyunjin left. Seungmin quipped, "If I was you, I would have the same reaction."

Y/N gave him a confused look, and Seungmin added, "I use Twitter too."

Y/N hid her face, groaning, "Ugh, this is so embarrassing. I want to die."

Bang Chan looked confused, "How do you know what is happening to her?"

Seungmin smirked, "I keep up with gossip sites."

Seungmin suggested, "Since we are working together, let's exchange our numbers." Later, all three of them exchanged numbers and had a decent conversation. Y/N found Seungmin extremely funny, especially when he was teasing Bang Chan about being old.

As they were laughing, Bang Chan removed his mask to take a sip of coffee, and Y/N swear the whole world stopped. He had dimples and very cute boba eyes, his eyes were so pretty you could see the innocence in them. He had perfect hair paired with perfect curly hair.

Seungmin joked, "Hey, earth to Y/N!" snapping her back to reality. Bang Chan looked at her in a concerning way, "Are you okay? You zoned out."

Y/N stuttered, "Oh yeah, by the way, what is the time?"

Seungmin checked his watch, "4:30."

Y/N exclaimed, "Shit, I am getting late! Guys, it was so nice talking to you. See you later!" and ran.

Bang Chan and Seungmin looked at each other, and Bang Chan asked, "So what happened to her?"

[httpjungkookcom]

Wobbly Legs | JJK (m)

Pairing | Jungkook x Reader

Word Count | 7K-ish

Genre | Idol! Jungkook x "Man Eater”! Reader, Established Relationship Now (Excitinggg!!!)

Summary | Jungkook's never shy when asking you to try new things because he knows you'll never judge him, never laugh at him. (With malicious intent anyways.) That doesn't mean he's not nervous, hiding and ducking his head the entire time with a giant blush spread across his face while he's asking. With a bit of coaxing, Jungkook finally spits it out. Unknowingly, he's more in for it than he even realizes.

Index | pegging!!!, sexual content, dirty talking, Jungkook still gets praised a lot, fingering (male and female receiving), oral (male receiving), sub! Jk, bottom! jk, overstimulation, hair pulling, jungkook is still shy and flustered around the reader, jungkook in love like never before, makes sure his sweet gf cums like a good little bf, my personal bias for Jungkook’s nose (sue me lol), Reader is feral by the end of this lmao

A/N | Based off of my previous post, Man Eater Hunting. It's a long one, so I'll give you the general gist of it. Jungkook has a fat crush on the reader who happens to be Namjoon’s best friend, the reader thinks he just wants in her pants so she teases him for a while, pinning after each other for 40k words, and eventually proclaim their undying love for one another. In a secure, happy relationship by the end :) (A lot of fucking in between.) If you’d like to read it, it’s still pinned on my blog I believe. 

Ever since the both of you’ve gone public with your relationship, Jungkook has been happier than ever. He gets to hold your hand in public, kiss your forehead, hug your waist, and do everything else under the sun without the worry of your lecturing. Your identity is still private, and most media respect it enough to at least not post an unblurred photo of your face. There are still plenty of photos of the both of you unblurred, but you try hard to look on the bright side. While being public means stress and worry for you in terms of media and cameras, seeing Kook be so happy makes the familiar warm feeling when you’re with him spread throughout your chest. The members are also all very supportive, their youngest visibly cheerier even on days he’s tired, worn down, or even lost a Mario Cart round against Taehyung. 

You, Namjoon, and Yoongi still have your little group inside the larger group, one that Jungkook’s been trying to invade for the last 3 months. Yoongi constantly kicks him out of your studio, producing party, whatever you wanna call them, nights, claiming it’s a “no boyfriends allowed,” party. Jungkook then gets your favorite food or drink and pouts outside the studio door until you’re all done. Tae and Jimin still take stabs at you and Kook every so often, just enough to start a playful banter but never enough to actually hurt your feelings anymore. Jin has always been supportive and still is if not more. And Hope still takes jabs when he can, more so at Jungkook just to get him going than you. And lastly, Jungkook’s still Jungkook, just as needy as the night you’d met at Joon’s party. 

Date night today, mine or your place? 

Jungkook’s notification flashes across your screen, phone resting on the kitchen island as you cook dinner. A giant smile spreads across your face before you can even think to stop it, rushing to text him back. You type back with your pinky, other fingers too dirty from the ingredients. 

Mine, I’m cooking already :) 

Be there in 15.

He’s over in 10 minutes max, softly knocking on your front door. You open it with your elbows, hands held away from anything that doesn’t need seasoning smeared against it. Quickly, you dodge the embrace that you know happens when Jungkook steps into your apartment, hurriedly running off back to the kitchen. “I don’t wanna get your nice shirt all dirty,” You justify your retreat before he even has a chance to ask, you already know it's coming from the soft exhale you just barely caught while running for security.  

“That doesn’t mean run away from meeee,” Kook whines back, following your warpath to the kitchen as he wraps his arms around your frame. He’s careful to keep his fingers away from any hot surfaces, taking the opportunity to place his palms on your chest without lecture. Besides that, he’s gone to the world as his face buries itself into your shoulder. “How’s your new job going?” He mumbles against your skin, causing goosebumps to shoot down your spine. Feeling the smirk from him on your skin, the little shit knows exactly what he’s doing. ”My little lead director of communications.” 

(Namjoon swears he didn’t put in a good word for you at his company regarding the application, but you’re almost 99% positive he did. You reassure yourself that you deserve to be there by saying the interview went well at least.)

“Everyone’s so nice, you know?” You begin, trying to fight off the laugh that threatens to overflow. “My new nickname is The girl Jeon Jungkook picks up after work, in the office. And sometimes it’s, Doesn’t he have a girlfriend? Is he having an affair?!!” You joke dryly, looking over your shoulder at him. “Because there’s no way we could everrr be in a relationship in this universe.” You chuckle.

At this, Jungkook tries hard not to laugh at your dismay. He doesn’t try very hard, eventually cracking up. “Hey, what can I say? I’m popular.” He cracks, earning him a soft elbow in the ribs that quickly makes him retreat away from you. “Sorry! Sorry! Do you want me to talk to them, and tell them it’s not cool? Or have a staff meeting about bullying and gossip?” 

Jungkook is lucky he’s so pretty, you think. This only makes your dismay worse, corners fighting hard to not tug up in a smile at how ridiculous he sounds. “That would make it worse, mom.” You finally crack into a smile, “If you were to go in there and tell them off like I’m 5 years old, I’d put in my two weeks immediately.” You laugh, putting the food onto plates before heading into the living room. This part of your and Jungkook’s routine is almost solid without how many date night-ins you’ve had in recent months. Kook goes for the drinks and utensils before joining you on the couch, clicking on the television. 

You can almost hear the cogs turning in his brain. “Or, I can send a strongly worded email.” He adds, sitting down before pulling your legs over his lap. “No, no. I leave a voicemail. that’ll really get ‘em.” 

“Koookkk.” Groaning, you can’t help but begin to laugh by the end of it. “I think, and hear me out, don’t get going just yet.” Your hands are held out in front of you. “Maybe, you don’t have to pick me up at my office every day when we leave the building. Maybe we can just meet in the garage or something. That way it’ll slowly die out of the conversation.” Jungkook’s almost offended by your words, dramatically placing a hand over his heart as if you’d shot him. 

“That's the best part of my day, not happening.” Jungkook gives one hard shake of his head, a definitive no before he resumes eating. 

“The best part of your day can be me walking to you in the parking garage instead.” You shoot, watching as Jungkook pretends to think hard about it. The final verdict is another hard shake of his head, signaling no. “Ugh, fine how about the cafeteria?” Another no. “Breakroom?” Another no. “Common areas?” Another no. “Jungkookkkk, work with me,” You complain, pointing at him threateningly with your chopsticks as you drive your foot into his abdomen. 

“I like picking you up at your office.” He shrugs as he sets his food aside, going to grab your foot in his hold. The last time this happened, jungkook tickled you half to death, eventually earning him a hard kick to the temple. (You felt horrible, and he couldn’t shoot content for a week.) Immediately, you make your foot retreat in fear of his safety. He completely ignores the next train of complaints from you. In retaliation, you crumple up a napkin and bounce it off of his head, which he still doesn’t acknowledge. 

“I can’t be called The girl Jungkook picks up, at my job. I really can’t Kook.” 

With an exaggerated sigh, Jungkook finally gives in. “Fine, we can meet at the cafeteria.” He almost whines, pinching your calf lightly to display his grievances. After your mini celebration that Jungkook mopes throughout, the both of you get comfortable with just eating and watching the show as it fills the silence. Jungkook’s finished eating much faster than you are, waiting impatiently for you to be done. As soon as your plate hits the coffee table, he’s pulling you closer. “I miss you.” He starts, laying back and dragging you along with him.

“You see me every day.” You genuinely laugh, cuddling close to him as you continue to watch the show, cheek squished on his chest. 

“It’s just not the same.” He's never satisfied. “When you’re working you’re all dressed up, and put together, and have your little bag filled with papers and fuck knows what else.” You chuckle softly, glancing up at him. “I miss just hanging out, watching tv, wearing pajamas, and you making fun of my toe socks which are very comfortable, FYI.  We’ve been so busy recently.” At that, he holds you just the smallest bit closer. Your arms wrap around him in return, hands pancaked in between his back and the couch cushions. Glancing up, Jungkook’s soft gaze meets yours, a small smile spreading across his face. You return the smile, reaching up to hold his cheeks in your palms. 

“First of all, the socks are atrocious. I only put up with them because it’s you.” You laugh loudly. 

“Awwwww.”

“Secondly, you remind me of your younger self, Kook. It’s like I can still see him in you.” You smile hard, rubbing along the bridge of his nose with your pinky. If you were anyone else, Jungkook would tell you off for pointing out his nose, maybe even cuss a bit. But it's you, and he knows how much you rave about how cute you think it is, so he lets you slide your finger across. “So loving, so sweet Jungkook.” You can’t help but grin, moving to softly pink his cheeks in between your thumbs and index fingers. His teeth show slightly from the stretch, making you beam back at him. “My sweet boy.” You coo, finally releasing him as you lay back on his chest. Jungkook holds you even closer after that. 

Jungkook’s fingers absentmindedly scratch along your back, every now and then rubbing the goosebumps that sprout up in their wake. You’re more focused on the movie than anything, brows furrowed together slightly as you listen closely to the dialogue to not miss a single detail. Jungkook, on the other hand, is the complete opposite. It’s already been an hour, you’re paying little to no attention to him and he’s growing impatient. The innocent scratches turn into heavy petting, eyes glued only to your frame, as his hips constantly readjust in their own accord. Trying to be subtle, Jungkook does his best to slowly hike your top up to get his hands on your bare skin. You’re more than aware of it, purposely ignoring him as you’re dead set on finishing up the stupid murder mystery, clue reminiscent, movie where you have to find out who the killer is. “Kook, go rub one out or something. I have 30 minutes left.” You complain, swatting away his hands as they begin to trail further underneath your shirt. 

“No, it’s not the same.” He immediately whines, curling up more to you, face burying itself in your neck as he sits up slightly. You can feel the soft kissing, leaving light marks on your skin that he soothes with his tongue. “Do you remember when we were in my studio for the first time?” Jungkook almost shutters as he lays under you. So much for movie night and cuddles. “And you hit my prostate? I wanna do that again-“ He whines, burying his face in your chest in embarrassment. Your attention is finally diverted from the movie now, glancing down at him. You can only see the tips of his ears, burning a bright red that you can only guess is also spread across his cheeks. “But more.” He adds. 

“You want me to fuck you? Is that what you’re saying?” Your voice drops, Jungkook immediately perking up at the tone with a small smile. “My boy, you want just my fingers, or you wanna be fucked?” Your hands come up to gently hold his head in them, fingers rubbing along his cheeks. Jungkook naturally leans into your touch, smiling softly as he deliberates. 

“I want you to fuck me.” Jungkook finally states, nodding to solidify his statement. His words are booming in your otherwise quiet apartment. 

“Oh shit.” You chuckle, his tone catching you slightly by surprise. At the small laugh, Jungkook’s face falls. “No, no I just laughed because it was so blunt and loud. Not at you, Kook.” You're quick to reassure, leaning forward to place a kiss on his forehead. “I think I may have a strap-on from-“ 

“You have a strapon?!?!” Jungkook interrupts you, shock and jealousy coursing through his voice, making you laugh. 

“Listen! It was a gag gift from my friends in college, it’s not even used.” You roll your eyes, watching as he calms down. “You never let me finish my sentences.” You laugh, sitting up on his lap. He’s quick to follow, lurching into a seated position to meet you. “When bun?” His brow immediately creases. 

“Today? Maybe?” The smirk that grows on your face is cheek aching, hands holding his face in your palms. Your thumbs gently brush his cheekbones, making him instantly melt in your hold. 

“You’re cute, Kook.” You grin hard, leaning forward to place a gentle kiss on his nose. “Of course, I’ll fuck you bun. Happily. C'mon, to the bedroom.” You lightly slap his shoulders, encouraging him up. In a flurry, he’s hoisting the both of you from the couch in a millisecond, arms wrapped tightly around your waist. (He’s almost running into the bedroom, your legs wrapped tightly around him.) Jungkook wastes no time, allowing himself to fall backward onto the bed. 

You land with a huff, Jungkook quickly situating you on his lap. “Alright, alright, I’m ready.” He smiles hard, ripping a laugh from your throat. “Do your worst.” It’s comfortable, the way your bodies easily fit together with one another, lips slotting together. You can taste the strawberry chapstick he wears so often, and smell the subtle citrus perfume that he always puts on when it starts to wear off. As always, Jungkook is easy to rile up. Slow kisses, pulling on his hair, slipping your hand underneath his shirt, and he’s already in over his head. 

“You’re too easy, Kook.” You smile up at him softly, biting the soft skin on his neck as a dark mark begins to show. “I really hope you’re not always like this, with all your other girlfriends.” You tease him, knowing just how much he hates it. (He really does hate it, how could he want anyone else when he has you?)

“Y/nnnnn,” He complains, hands squeezing your thighs on either side of his waist hard, leaving small bruises in their wake. “You know I’m only this easy for you, always only you.” 

“Hmmm, I don't know. Mr big league, international idol.” You continue to press all of his buttons, fighting back the smile as you look for the expression you already know he’s wearing. It finally makes you crack, cheeks hurting from how hard the smile is. Your hands slip underneath his ridiculously sized T-shirt, cold hands leaving goosebumps in their path as he involuntarily flinches away from them. You bunch it in your hands, peeling it off and over his head. “What was that one show you had recently, all sold out? How man fans did you-”

“You know that’s inaccurate,” Jungkook states immediately, dead serious which makes you laugh out loud. 

“Alright, alright. Just getting you all bothered, bun,” The whine Jungkook lets out as you jokingly flick a nipple makes you ache, snapping you back into the reality of what the two of you are actually doing. “Fuck, bun. You gonna let me play with your pretty tits, hmm?” His fluffy hair bounces from how aggressively he shakes his head. You groan back, experimentally taking a nipple in between your teeth, harshly running your tongue over it.

“Feels good, feels good.” Kook whines, hips involuntarily grinding up against you. A small yelp unconsciously falls from him as you bite, one of his hands coming up to press firmly along your shoulder. “Biting? You just bit me!” He whines loudly, rubbing his chest. It makes you laugh.

“You bite me all the time without realizing it.” You counter, softly pulling his hand away by his wrist. Your tongue meets his chest once more, soothing over the mark before harshly licking, sucking, and biting once more. “You’re also always so rough with me, bun. Are you gonna let me be rough with you?”

“If you ever get there, sure. Seems like you’re stalling, you scared beautiful?” It’s taunting, finally his turn to push your buttons as he smirks down on you. 

“We’ve gotta get you prepped Kook, otherwise you’ll be no fun to play with.” Once again, another tease meant to rile him up. Jungkoko groans just from your words, hands pulling your hips closer. Before he has a chance to counter, you’re moving down to meet his waistband, tugging on the sweatpants. Your thumbs hook underneath, catching both his underwear and tugging them off in one easy swoop. He’s rock hard, his cock hitting his lower stomach. “Can you reach over and grab the lube?” The bedside table is being slung open in two seconds flat, everything slapping against the front. Jungkook avoids the look you give him. 

“Shut up, I don't wanna hear it.” He chuckles, handing it over after fishing around for it. “So how do you? How do we uh? Fit it in.”

Your heartbeat catches for a moment, glancing up and catching the slight nerves on his face before they disappear. “Kook.” You smile gently, a fond feeling in your chest. “We start slowly, Kook. We definitely don’t have to rush and if you want to stop we can always have a raincheck.” Jungkook listens intently, eyes wide as he takes everything in. Slowly. he nods as you finish up your speech. “So, we start slow.” You give him one last reassuring smile before you take the lube from him, being extremely generous as you apply it to your fingers. 

His hips jerk into your hold as you take his aching cock with a soft fist, nerves making him jumpy. “Bun, relax. You know I’ll take care of you.” You coo to Jungkook, a blush flushing across his entire face. 

“I know, I know you always do.” Jungkook nods, coaxing himself to relax as he lays down rather than resting on his elbows. You see part of his face, eyes screwed shut as he focuses on your touch. His breath sucks in as the cold lube meets his skin, legs tensing around your body where you sit between them. 

“You have to relax, Kook.” You reiterate once more, sliding down slightly as your lips brush against his head. “You’ve been here before, bun.” You giggle, taking his head in your mouth as you focus on distracting him. He’s distracted easily, one hand reaching down to run his fingers through your hair, gently pulling at the strands. You allow him, sinking down slowly as you gauge his reaction. 

“Feels good.” You can vaguely hear him whine, head pushed back into your pillow as he tries his hardest to focus on your mouth. As his legs relax around your body, losing himself in the pleasure, you easily slip your middle finger into his ass. “Fuck me!” He whimpers, clamping down around your finger. 

“You’re okay, bun. You’re okay.” You reassure, glancing up to catch his expression. After he relaxes a bit, you sink onto his cock once more, not yet moving your finger. You can feel Jungkook’s gaze burning into your skin, watching intently as your nose brushes his abdomen. Experimentally, your finger draws out before easily sliding back in, pulling the smallest whine from the very back of his throat. Sinking back down onto his cock, you fight the gag off as he grinds into you, finally allowing the pleasure to wash over him again. 

“Fuck! Is this what it feels like?” Jungkook whines loudly as you slip another finger in, gently pressing against his prostate as his hips readjust on their own.

“Feels like when what?” You draw before sinking back down onto him, your tongue harshly against rubbing the underside of his cock. 

“When we fuck, when I’m in you.” It’s whiny and slightly breathless as he bites back his moans. Jungkook flushes a bright red across his chest and face, breath uneven as his chest rises and falls with heaves. 

“Not at all, you’re way bigger than my fingers, bun.” It’s a boost in his confidence, immediately vanishing as one of your hands meets the back of his thighs. “Up Kook, just a bit so I can work you open,” He whines, so deep and guttural that you almost want to whine back. You're at three fingers when you actually start, beginning to fuck into him with your fingers, curling them to hit his prostate. His poor cock sits untouched on his abdomen, softly dripping precum onto his stomach from your touch. 

Jungkook knows he’s in for it as you shuffle around in between him, climbing to your knees as his legs rest around your waist. It’s a change in your recent dynamic for sure, but he can't help the way his cock throbs the whines that slip past his bright red, bitten lips. Your free hand runs along his thigh, pulling it up slightly more as you push his hips into the mattress, fingers working him open and closer to his end. 

“Kook?” You call softly, earning you a small hum in return. “You gonna be good for me, cum from my fingers?” Truthfully, he doesn’t know if he can but he trusts you enough to take him there. He nods quickly, bangs falling into his face. You pull another whimper just from changing your position, leaning over him slightly to watch all of his expressions. Taking his cock into one hand to push him closer, the other fucking him open, your body pressing him into the mattress, his mind just melts. His body feels hotter than humanly possible, mind reeling from all the sensations at once. 

“Good boy Kook, my good boy.” Cooing, your lips meet his jaw as you gently kiss his hot skin. 

“Close, really close.” Jungkook doesn’t quite understand the feeling that grows in his abdomen, only that it’s continuing to build as your fingers press harshly into him. He barely registers the feeling of your hand leaving his aching cock, mind too preoccupied with the incoming orgasm. “Coming.” His entire body shakes, hands searching for any sort of contact as they wrap around your body, pulling you closer to him. Jungkook’s sure he’s never experienced something like this before, sure he’s never come this hard in his entire life. 

“Easy, Kook. It’s okay.” You help him through it, milking it for the most pleasure you can give him. Slowly easing your ministrations to a stop, you plant kisses around his face. Jungkook cums harder than you’ve ever seen, thighs still shaking against your body as he rides it out. “You okay?” He looks like he’s just run a marathon, chest heaving as he comes back. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Kook huffs, flushed bright red underneath you. 

“I’ll be right back? Okay?” He nods, allowing you to slip from his legs and instead begin to rummage through your bedside dresser. His eyes burn into your skin as you finally find it, the overly realistic strap-on held in place by a leather harness. “You still sure about this, bun?” You have to fight to untangle it, embarrassment following across your cheeks as you work on putting it on over your lace panties. Jungkook doesn’t even register your struggle as he watches. 

“Yeah, yes. Please, Y/n.” Jungkook whimpers, cock throbbing as it slaps against his stomach. Nervousness sets in as you resume your spot in between his legs, hands rubbing along his thighs as they tense beneath your touch. “You’ll be gentle, right? Please?” He whimpers, taking one of your hands in his own. 

“I’ll be as gentle as you are with me.” You giggle, slowly pushing his thighs back up to press his hips into the mattress. “Kidding, of course, I’ll be gentle, Kook,” You reassure, finally dropping the small nag as you once again fish for the lube. Jungkook fights the whimper that threatens to fall past his lips as he watches you lube yourself up, eyebrows scrunched together. “Ready bun?” 

His lips are caught between his teeth as he nods, one of his hands meeting your own that holds his knee back. Leaning forward, you offer a quick kiss before starting. It’s slow, his chest heaving as you slowly allow the head to slip inside. 

“You’re okay, bun.” You hum, redirecting a free hand to slowly jerk his cock. Sliding in slightly further, a loud moan slips past his lips as you brush along his prostate, cock throbbing in your hold. You have to talk him through it, sliding in inch by inch and allowing him to readjust each time. Rocking your hips slightly, Jungkook slowly takes the last inch before you’re fully inside, the base of the strapon grinding slightly against his skin. “You alright bun?” You coo, gently pulling an arm away from his flushed face. 

Jungkook’s eyes are slightly watery, lips shining and bright red from how much he’s bitten down on them. Allowing him to adjust, you lean down to kiss him, lips sliding against one another as you grind against him. With a small nod from Jungkook, he encourages you back up. 

“You’re so deep.” He whimpers as a response, clenching and unclenching around you. If only you could feel it, you’re sure you’d go insane. Seeing him so fucked out, pinned underneath your hold, whimpering and crying as he takes it., and being able to feel it? You’re bordering insane already. “Move, please.” Jungkook whines, so genuine that it causes you to clench around nothing. 

“So good for me, Kook.” You praise, sliding out and easily pushing in in one swift thrust. The sound it makes is absolutely lewd, adding to your insanity. 

“Fuck! Fuck!” 

“So whiny, crying and I’ve barely started bun. Barely even moving right now.” You tease, watching as his cock bounces with each taunt. You can’t help but grind against him, feeling the faint warmth of his skin on your lower stomach. 

“Yeah? Thought you wanted to be rough with me?” Jungkook knows what he’s doing, knows how much he’s essentially fucking himself over with his words, but he doesn’t care. He’s in trouble as you hike his thighs up with ease, pinning him to the bed how he pins you constantly. Vulnerability spreads throughout his entire body, open wide in front of you before you’re following, thighs pressed against the curves of his ass. 

“Bun, be careful with your words.” You tease, giving him one hard snap of your hips to prove your point. It gets it across easily, forcing a moan past his lips which you swallow in a sloppy kiss. Jungkook’s burning up from the inside out, watching as your chest bounces each time you rock your hips into him, feeling the warmth of your skin each time you bottom out. His legs are hiked up higher than he’s ever been, knees almost touching the bed beside his torso as you fold him in half. “You alright, bun?” You ask, not paying much attention as your mind is focused on wedging your hands in the folds of his knees better. 

“Yeah, yeah. I just didn’t know this would feel so intense?” He mumbles, hands reaching around his legs to hold your forearms in his palms. Moans fill your bedroom, Jungkook unable to hold back a single one. “Vulnerable? Feel this good? I don’t know which term I’m looking for.” 

“Vulnerable? You feel vulnerable Kook? Do you want me to slow down-”

“No! No, I don’t feel vulnerable with you.” Jungkook wears a soft smile across his face, quickly broken as you rock harder into him. “The position is just…compromising I suppose.”

You can’t help but giggle at him. “Good, bun. I’m glad.” Grinning, you catch his lips in a quick kiss before pulling away once again. To get more leverage, (you’re going off of stuff you’ve seen Jungkook do,) you push yourself up onto your feet. “Being so good, taking me so well.”

“Are you, fuck fuck ah,” He whines, clenching around you as you’re able to finally set a steady pace, using your legs as leverage. “Are you mating pressing me right now?” Jungkook cracks in between moans, trying his hardest to maintain his composure. His brows are scrunched together, lips bit bright red as his lids struggle to stay open, completely and utterly fucked out. There’s a thin layer of sweat slowly building, making his skin shine prettily. 

“Wish I could feel you Kook, wish I could.” You ignore his previous comment, eyebrows scrunching together as you focus on your movements. In any other context, Jungkook would coo at you and rub the small wrinkle that forms out with both thumbs, place a kiss there maybe. But in this context, with the concentration you’re giving him, it’s a scary one.

“Fuck, don't say that. Don't know how I’d react if I was able to feel you.” He reaches, teasingly pulling you in by your hip and throwing off your balance.

“I’m about to slip a fucking sleeve over your cock so you stop being such a smartass, bun.” You growl, snapping hard into him. It’s the whinest moan you think you’ve ever heard from Jungkook since you’ve met him, cock jumping at the threat. “Such a whore, Kook.” You can’t help but quip, watching as he stifles the moan that threatens to spill out. 

“Think I’m gonna cum again,” His hands move to rest on his forehead, covering his face from you. 

“Uhh uhh, you know better than that bun.” The smugness drips from your voice, one of your hands coming to pin Jungkook’s hands away from his red face. “C'mon, don’t make me punish you, cum for me like a good boy.” There’s a feral-ness in your voice, wanting to see him squirm underneath you, cry for you as he cums. Your hips snap on their own accord, watching as his soft pink lips part with each moan you work out of him. 

“Fuck, Kook. So beautiful underneath me feels like I’m gonna die,” You complain with a smile, leaning over his body to bite softly into his chest. And you move to nip his neck, then the very base of his jaw, before moving back to his chest again to mark him. “Can't take it, how good you are.” You praise more, watching as he teeters on the very edge of his orgasm. His brain genuinely melts, jaw falling slack just the slightest bit as he full-body cums again, legs shaking around your waist. Jungkook breaks your hold on his arms, pulling your body close as he kisses you, sloppy and needy. Your palms trail along his skin, offering comfort to his shaking thighs and heaving chest as you slowly soothe them. “Easy, bun, easy.” You coo in between kisses, eventually slowing the needy kisses down to gentle and slow to help him catch his breath. 

“Holy shit,” He finally offers, making you chuckle as you softly smooth his messy hair, pushing his bangs away from his sweaty forehead.

“You’re making such a fucking mess, bun. Just fuckin oozing everywhere like a whore, can't help it huh?” Teasing, you swipe at his abdomen to collect some of it, showing it off on your fingers. Jungkook can't help but tremble, whines spilling past his lips from your teasing. “You okay? Wanna take a break?” You check in after dropping your teasing tone, sitting up a bit on your heels to assess him. There are way more bite marks than you remember giving him, some showing the indents of your teeth in his flesh. It makes your cheeks warm, thumbs swiping the bite marks gently to try and smooth them out (it doesn’t work at all.) 

“No, no, I think I have one more in me at least. God, pretty girl, fuckin feral huh?” Jungkook smiles, rubbing over the bite marks himself. Embarrassment overcomes you, cheeks reddening as all you can do is smile. “I like it.” 

“What can I say, gotta mark what’s mine.” You offer cheekily, leaning in for one last kiss before resuming. “You think you can take it on your knees?”

“Oh fuck,” It’s more of a whimper than anything, Jungkook knowing this is, in fact, going to be the last one before his mind melts entirely. “Think I might die if I take it on my knees.” He offers, whimpering as you slide out of him to allow him to move. If Jungkook was luckier, you suppose you’d go easier on him, maybe whisper sweet nothings into his ear as you give him back shots. As he flips over, ass waving in the air, you feel as if you’ve been starved for the last year. His waist looks smaller than normal like this, shoulder muscles flexing as he rests on his arms, thighs shaking just the slightest bit from his previous 2 orgasms. 

Definitely not going to be gentle, you discern. Your hands instinctively reach for his ass, lightly slapping this skin underneath your palms to test his reaction. He offers a muffled groan, pushing his ass back into you. Slapping slightly harder, his skin begins to redden into a faint handprint. “My little whore.” You can't stop yourself, Jungkook pushing himself back once again. Pushing yourself up onto your knees, you easily slip in the head, earning a throaty groan from Kook. “God, bun.” Is all you can manage, reaching over into your bedside drawer to fish out another toy. “Be good and get this wet for me, alright?” You almost purr, a giant smile spread across your face as you hand him the fleshlight. 

You slide into him with a wet shhlickk, humming softly as your hips meet his soft skin. Glancing around to the best of your ability, Jungkook’s obviously conflicted as he steals glances at the bottle of lube that sits near him. “Bun, I said wet it.” You drawl, leaning over his body to reach, Jungkook letting out a whine from how deep you are. You take it from his stilled hands, his mind too preoccupied with the way your hips press into his ass. “Cum a couple of times and can’t think, huh?” You tease, pushing the toy up to his lips, grinding it against him as he begins eating it out. 

Jungkook groans, so deep and throaty that you would've sworn he just came without even being stimulated, mind beginning to catch up to all the sensations. “Please, move Y/n. Can’t take it, too deep.” Kook whimpers, pushing his ass harder into your hips. Death grip still around the toy, you're unmoving. 

“Bun, cmon. Be good for me, this is the first thing I've asked of you this entire time.” It’s a sight for your sore eyes, pink tongue slipping into the clear center as his eyebrows form that familiar crease between them with concentration. The hand not holding the toy slides around his torso, gently rubbing over his sensitive chest and nipples to give him some sort of touch. You can't help but clench around nothing, watching as his jaw flexes and tenses with each movement. Pulling it away, you're almost drooling with desire. “You gonna let me be rough with you, bun?” You tease, easily sliding the toy partially over him. 

He just shakes underneath you, absolutely quivers as he sinks into the toy. “Yes, please. Please be rough, be mean,” He whines, biting down hard on his lower lip as you rock into him, forcing him to rock into the toy in turn. 

“See Kook? I move, you move.” You can’t help but smile, chest still flush against his back as you allow him to get used to it. Both hands find his chest, squeezing, pinching, and rubbing wherever they can. Jungkook’s basically panting underneath you, abs clenched hard in concentration as he tries not to cum embarrassingly early. “Gonna move now, alright?” He offers a nod as an answer, eyes screwed shut and lips bit down. 

You force a deep moan out of him with the very first thrust of your hips, not only hitting his prostate but forcing him completely into the clear toy underneath him. “Gonna cum early Kook? Feels too good, huh? Just so many different sensations happening at once.” You tease him. Reaching forward, you pull hard on the back of his hair, Jungkook’s being forced up onto his hands.

“Feels good, really good. Too good.” He almost babbles, making the heat in your abdomen pool. “Don't wanna cum yet, but might.” He whimpers, mouth falling open as you snap your hips hard into him. Without even thinking, you allow your fingers to slip into his mouth, pressing down hard on his tongue. Jungkook genuinely drools, coating your fingers and creating a string that falls onto the covers. “Lemme cum, wanna cum, bad.” 

“You have to ask nicely.” You grit, grinding into him. One of your arms wraps around his torso, holding him close. Your lips meet his shoulder, biting down slightly on the warm skin.

“Please lemme cum.” It’s the best you’re going to get in his current state, mind seconds from leaving his head completely. 

“Go head bun, come hard for me.” You coo, keeping your antics up to the best of your ability given the exhaustion slowly creeping up on you. (You’re older than Kook, give yourself a break. You don’t have as much stamina as the boy.) “Be good and let me hear you, bun.” You could cum just from listening to him, whining, moaning, and borderline crying as he cums for the last time of the night. His thighs shake against yours, hands creating fists around the covers as his knuckles go white. “Easy, Kook. Easy, you’re okay.” You help him through it, hands roaming his body to help ground him with your touch. Slowly, you maneuver him back down to his elbows to rest. “Gonna slide out, okay, I’ll be careful.” Talking him through it, you help him onto his back, tossing the toys aside to be cleaned. 

“Holy fuck.” Jungkook whines, covered in his own fluids as he finally rests entirely. There’s drool covering his chest, absolutely lewd as he peers up at you with half-open eyes. “Gonna have to do that again, sometime.” 

“You okay, Jungkook?” You ask gently, taking him into your arms as your lips meet for the millionth time that night. 

Jungkook beams at you, the widest and most cheesy smile you’ve seen in a while. “Of course, babe. More than okay, thank you for doing that with me.” He grins, cupping your face in one hand as he kisses you. 

“C'mon, let’s go take a bath. I don't think your legs could stand long enough for a shower.” You tease. He knows you're right, but he profusely denies it in an attempt to prove you wrong and show just how strong he is. (He needs your help walking to the bathroom, wobbly legs himself.) You allow him to keep his dignity, not bullying him too much on the way to the tub.

“Wait, you didn’t cum did you?” Jungkook makes the sudden revelation in the bathroom, pulling you close to his chest. Your hands meet his biceps, small smiles spreading across both of your faces.

“No, but it’s okay I- KOOK!” He catches you off guard as he easily dips a hand into your panties, fingers immediately slipping through your folds from how wet you are. “It’s okay, I enjoyed seeing you like that for me regardless, I don't have to cum to enjoy things you know?” 

“Hmmm, but it’d make me feel a lot better.” Jungkook cheekily smiles, already working you up as he slots his thigh in between your own. “Please cum for me, just once. I’ll lend you my fingers, please cum on my fingers.” He’s basically begging, waiting for you to nod before moving his hand anymore. It's hotter than you would've thought, you riding his fingers while standing, sloppily making out as he swallows your moans with soft groans, bodies held close together, warm skin against warm skin. “Sound so pretty, angel. These sounds just for me, all mine,” He mumbles against your lips, making you clench hard around him. 

“Just a bit more, Kook. Almost there,” You whine loudly, grinding against him.

“I’ve got you, bun’s got it.” Jungkook easily takes you there, basically knows your body like the back of his hand. Your knees part more to allow his hand to move more freely, legs shaking slightly as you stand on your toes. 

“Cumming Kook.” Eyebrows scrunching together, the pool that’s been hot in your stomach finally overflows, your poor cunt aching as you cum. Jungkook does his best to ride you through it for as long as possible, milking it for all it’s worth. “Too much, hurts.” You whimper against Jungkook’s neck, softly grabbing his wrist.

“I love you. I fucking love you so much.” Jungkook removes his hand as quickly as he shoved it in your panties, pulling you close as he kisses you. 

“Oh my god! Get in the tub, we’re going to be fucking in my bathroom if we keep this up.” You giggle, softly pushing him toward the already-filled tub. 

“Fine, even though that seems like a fun time too,” Jungkook complains, climbing in. His eyes never leave your frame as you take off your panties, dropping them in the laundry before slipping in behind him. “Hot.”

“Kook, shhhhhhhh.” The both of you laugh, Jungkook moving to rest against your torso. Placing a hand on his forehead, you softly pull his head back to rest it on your shoulder. “I love you too, Jungkook. Always have.” You kiss his cheek softly, hands coming to hold his head gently as you do. Jungkook pretends to hate it, jokingly pulling away from your lips as you kiss him multiple times. You’re sure he’s blushing, but he ferociously avoids looking at you as you try to see his cheeks better to tease. 

He’s 100% blushing as he sits up away from you, you're sure of it. He offers a “nuh uh” before you're slapping a hand across his eyes, yanking him down once more. It makes the both of you laugh loudly, water sloshing against the tub walls. Finally, he gives in. “Fine, whatever. Love you too.”

“Love you more, wobbly legs.”

If you have any comments, feedback, etc, please let me know in the tags or comments! I always love to hear from readers and listen to your thoughts! Thank you for reading. 

Love, G <3