#problematic tower romance

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thank you for 1000 notes! ❣️

New story set in the same AU coming soon! 🤗

"problematic tower romance"

pairing: John Walker x fem!reader

words: 6.5k

summary: John liked to remind you that he was fifteen years older than you. You liked to remind him that you honestly didn't care.

warnings: age gap (John is in his late 30s, reader is in her early 20s), mutual pining, fighting & arguing, getting together, explicit sex scenes, (wet humping, vaginal sex)

a/n: the title of this fic is inspired by the book "problematic summer romance" by Ali Hazelwood! (big recommendation, I marked so many quotes of it on my kindle) thank you for everyone who showed interest in a fic idea like this, I was so motivated to keep writing because all of you!🤍 Enjoy!

ao3 version

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Everything you knew about John Walker was contradictory.

All your life, you had been trained to spot patterns, to look at a stranger and know their weakness within seconds. And yet, months had passed after you had become one of the New Avengers and still you couldn’t figure out the riddle that was John Walker.

He was made of the strongest steel, hardened from his life and never letting down his guard – never not hiding behind the shield of his own smugness and cockiness. He was harsh and commanding and older, and if he wanted to, he could be a real pain in the ass.

But somewhere along the way, between missions and the everyday life at the tower, something between you had shifted.

On the first glance, you had nothing in common.

He had a history, tragedies that had struck his life and evidently changed it for the worse and you were a blank slate, only growing into the abilities that made you strong and valuable to the group. Where he liked to stay for himself, playing grumpy old hard-to-get, you liked to surround yourself with your new companions, quickly carving yourself a place in everyone’s hearts.

Yet, there was an invisible force pushing you together.

And there came the day where almost inevitably, John subconsciously started to look out for your smile, his ears adjusting to find your sunny laugh echoing through the space that slowly became home.

Him and you drifted towards each other, circling each other’s orbit without meaning to. Closer, closer.

Neither of you had a habit of sleeping in and so, the kitchen was often shared between the two of you in the early mornings. Silently at first and then over hushed, small conversations that grew longer and longer over time. You discovered John was a pretty good cook until you weren’t even able to imagine what it was like to start your day without his greasy cheese and bacon toasts anymore. He often almost burned the eggs when he listened to you sing quietly along to the radio, in awe and mesmerized.

When the others eventually joined you for breakfast, the coffee between you had long gone cold with conversation. One last glance shared, almost like a secret before you’d go on with your day.

You joined his training – brutal at first, but so damn efficient – and he showed you how to defend yourself better, even letting you carry his shield for practice in case you’d need it one day. John didn’t know yet what the funny tug at his heartstrings meant when he saw you with it. And when you complained over sore muscles the day after, he sneaked you a salve from his private stash. He thought no one saw it, but Yelena and Ava shot you a knowing grin as you turned away with heated cheeks.

It was surprisingly easy to mess with John. It seemed like his shoulders only lost their tension when you made a joke, your sweet laugh a comforting music to his ears.

One time, Bob and you had tried to get one of the old kitchen devices to run since you wanted to bake a cake together.

“There’s no way anyone walking this planet still knows how to use this ancient technology.” Bob quirked his mouth at you and when you saw John come to stand above the two of you, a smile was ready, tugging at the corners of your lips.

“Hmm…let’s ask John, he was born among the dinosaurs.”

He cocked a brow at you, wanting to stay unimpressed which was hard when a literal sunshine was grinning up at him. “Really? An age joke? Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, studying or something?”

You stuck your tongue out at him, his laughter warming your chest like nothing else.

On missions, there always was a shift in him and gone was your grumpy yet soft John, replaced by a sharp and focused weapon of a man who yet always found a way to look out for you. You didn’t miss the way he started to stick to your side, even if it meant breaking protocol. The ghost of his gloved hands drifting over your spine, to move you out of the way or give you an extra push to launch into an attack he had taught you.

You were becoming a team, on the job and outside of it and of course, as a woman in her twenties, you possessed good eyesight: John Walker was, almost annoyingly so, pretty fucking hot.

He wasn’t perfect, but battered yet sharp at the edges, and when he leaned over you for the first time to grab something on the table, freshly showered, white shirt and damp hair, his cologne had filled your senses and you couldn’t look away from him.

The thought of him, the idea of being with a man who wasn’t only older than you but a steady, comforting presence in your life, kept following you way into the nights until all you could think about was him and your hand inevitably drifted underneath your bed covers, fantasizing about what could be.

It was the smallest contacts that haunted you the most. 

His calloused thumb brushing over your braid. The way his eyes turned a shade darker when you looked at each other a moment too long. The warmth of his body when he brushed past you, getting to work and making you eggs the way you liked them. That one time during movie night his thigh feather lightly touched yours, your fingers drifting over a scar on his hand in the dark, barely breathing…

With the years John had on you – a decade and a half you liked to brush off as nothing when you thought of him, he was more experienced in every aspect and liked to show it. Whether it was his cut, commanding orders during missions or correcting your technique in the gym again and again, he liked to remind you that you were younger. Inexperienced to the world and its ways. Just a little doe that now played with the adults.

It drove you wild.

It turned you on more than it should’ve.

You had never wanted anyone more.

And secretly, while John beat himself up for getting a boner at the thoughts of you circling through his mind, you fully gave into them and thought: why the hell not?

During a mission in Rome, the tension between him and you had finally boiled over.

The others had stayed in New York while the two of you went to Europe, playing happy couple on a little trip while also spying on a cartel that had brought Val some trouble recently. Which meant that most of the time spent there, John was supposed to take you out on some fancy rooftop dates, with you dressed in pretty sundresses and heels as you tried to concentrate on the mission with his hand constantly on your lower back or your arm.

It also had been a shock to discover that you were actually the impulsive one in this unusual pretend-pairing, especially when this certain attribute surfaced during a chase through the narrow alleys until you had nearly caught a knife to your chest.

But John’s shield had been faster, catapulting the thing that could’ve ended your life against a wall and killing your opponent with it. For a moment, you both had stood still, breathing heavily as the reality of what could’ve happened sunk in and your eyes met. Yours confused and a little dazed, his wide and terrified. 

In the next second, you were pressed up against the wall, your thigh hooked over his waist as he kissed you desperately, senseless.

Maybe it was the aftermath of the scare, the adrenaline still pumping through both of your veins.

Or maybe what had been blossoming quietly between the two of you.

In that moment, it didn't matter.

When he had muttered a weak “We can’t…” against your lips, you only kissed him back harder, your arms secure and wanting wrapped around your neck, making him bend down to meet you.

“I don’t care.” You had whispered back, sealing your fate.

Back then, you hadn’t known yet how complicated John liked to make his own life.

The rest of the time in Rome had been spent in a dream, the mission complete, the flight scheduled soon but out of reach. The two of you had let yourselves be swallowed by the vibrant city, getting lost in the streets and old monuments, forgetting of the titles you both wore and who you were supposed to be.

An invisible question mark floated between you at all times.

Will we? when his thumb brushed over the corner of your lip to wipe away some vanilla ice cream.

Will we? when you casually entwined your fingers with his as he carried your shopping bags.

Will we? when you watched the sunset and you leaned your head against his arm, one of his hands splayed over your thigh.

During your last night, after a delicious dinner where pinkies kept brushing and electricity sparking, you finally found yourself in his hotel room, drowning in his sheets and him.

You were tangled together, all breathy moans and heated flesh, his suit and your flowy flower dress dropped and forgotten on the floor. Your silky hair splayed down on his pillow, his broad shoulders reddened from your nails scratching him passionately.

John tried to keep most of his weight off you, but you kept dragging him down.

You didn’t want to be babied. You wanted to be covered in him, swallowed up by all of him and never to be seen again. Your back arched as he hit just the right spot and you gasped into his mouth, your hand pulling him down by his sweaty nape, ready to be devoured by his kiss.

“There’s fifteen years between us.” He gasped against your neck, hips rutting into you slow and deep, his teeth gritted and hot breath lighting you on fire.

You nudged your nose with his, forcing him to look at you as you bit down on his bottom lip, hard. “Congrats on knowing how to count, John.”

Everything in you seized up when he suddenly bit down on your neck, softly licking over the mark before doing it again just because you let him. Your pussy clenched around him, ankles locking behind his back and pushing him further into madness.

There was a crazed urgency in the way his hips snapped into yours. Like he needed to get deeper, no sight of being sated yet as he fucked you into the mattress. John was everywhere, filling up your senses as he kept you full with his cock, legs spread wide around him as you held on to him for dear life.

He couldn’t look away from you if he wanted to, fascinated with your rosy cheeks and soft, parted lips.

You were soft. 

Not fragile, far from it, but precious to him and the others.

And even as if he was buried deep into your sweet warmth, all John could think about was that it was only a matter of time until he’d mess this up and break you just like everything else that used to be good in his life.

But he had never claimed to be perfect.

And so, he kept fucking you into an earth-shattering high, until your body twitched and shook in his embrace and you slowly fell asleep on his chest, his arms keeping you safe and close to him all night.

After Rome, he withdrew.

Putting a reasonable and safe distance between himself and you.

John had no bigger enemy in this world than his own mind sometimes and so, he carefully loosened his hold on your sleeping form the next morning, trying his best to shake off what had been growing so gently inside of him.

You had not realized the last time he planned to allow himself to be in a room with you was the debrief with the team after you got home. And even then, John had barely looked at you.

The next day, after sitting over cold breakfast for an hour, you understood that he wasn’t coming. And when he walked past you with Bucky later, jaw tense and face scarily neutral, something inside of you reeled back in shock. 

The first few days, you were a little lost, the happiness you had felt when you had drifted off in John’s arms fading into a numb confusion. The passionate night shared between you kept replaying itself in your mind and you wondered where things had taken a wrong turn. You hadn’t been in a relationship before and you couldn’t help but think you had done something wrong.

And John didn’t give you a chance to ask.

While life at the tower went on, John avoided you, never crossing paths at the gym and even excusing himself from conversations when he saw you approach.

At first, it was frustrating.

Then, it became infuriating.

Your hurt heart built itself a cage of anger, a constant burn in your chest following you around until one day – after a good, healing talk with the girls and Bob – you understood what the fucking problem was.

There was a deep, heavy self-hate inside of John Walker.

A guilt he couldn’t brush off, dark and ugly and making him believe after everything, he didn’t deserve happiness like the one he felt with you. After his downfall in society, the split with Olivia…what good had he done to deserve you? What gave him the right to rely on someone like you, still so young and unsullied from the world’s tragedies?

Even after the mission and time you had spent together, you haunted him in his dreams, your smile and beauty brightening up his nights until he’d wake and hate himself a little more for not being able to let go of you. The idea of you. Someone young he’d have a second chance with. John knew if you were his, he’d spend every second of his day cherishing you, spoil you rotten and keep you as happy as he could.

But you deserved better.

So, he continued to give you space. When he refused to go on another duo mission with you during the next conference, suggesting Bucky could get the job done instead, you finally had enough.

You watched him leave for the gym like a coward, determined to not give up on one of the few things that truly made you feel alive and wanted. If John wasn’t going to talk to you or acknowledge what happened, you’d have to pry yourself a way back into his life.

Manchild.

You went after him, making a quick detour to your room to change into the shortest gym shorts you could find. When you arrived, John was already blowing off steam at one of the boxing sacks, his shirt drenched with sweat.

Leaning against the wall, you watched with an aching heart, the way his muscles shook, strength and anger searing through every vein of his. John was not going to stop until he’d either thrown the sack off its hook or you found the bravery to put an end to this.

“You should take it out on me.” You spoke up after a while, bitterly.

John stilled, breath heavy as he turned around to look at you. One look, that’s all it took. “Fuck no.”

“I want you to.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Oh? Since when do you care about what you want?” You pushed yourself off the wall, glaring at him angrily. “You’ve done an excellent job to convince yourself that you don’t want me. If you want to push me away so badly, I need you to fight back.”

There was so much unspoken between the two of you.

But you were a fighter.

If the point came where words weren’t enough anymore, you still had your fists.

You launched yourself at him, a surprised grunt leaving his lips as you attacked, unhinged and frayed at your very edges. You were tired, occupied at night to think of the one in front of you and you were angry that he possessed the audacity to toss you aside like you were nothing to him.

And your body held on to this ugly knot inside of you and doubled it, making sure to throw every storm of feeling abandoned and rejected into the fight. Annoyingly easily, John slipped into defense, keeping you away as you tried to crowd him, getting all up into his space with a growl.

Sweat stuck to your exposed skin as he kept pushing you away, never attacking back.

When your closed fist hit his chest, John didn’t even flinch and it poured gasoline all over the fire inside of you. You were getting messy, not smart or strategic anymore, just trying to hit him wherever you could while he kept his defense up with a stubbornness that made you see red.

Only your heavy breathing and grunts echoed across the gym, reminding you of when he had been on top of you, his cock dragging over that mushy spot that made you see stars, your mouths melting together in a wild kiss.

A sudden sob tore its way from your throat when the skin of your knuckles broke against his solid form and you hissed, head fuzzy and swaying on your feet. John instantly lost his posture, trying to grab your wrist and check the damage.

You struggled against him, hating the way tears suddenly pricked at your eyes. “Let go of me!”

“Hey, you have to stop- Stop, honey, stop!”

With one last raging strength, you pushed him away. Staring at him wide-eyed, you panted and felt every inch of your bruised heart beat wildly in your chest. “Really, John?! Honey? You ignore me for days, leaving every room like I’m the walking plague after you railed me into your mattress and now I’m suddenly honey?! Looking back on how you treated me, I am nothing to you, am I wrong?”

John stared back at you, hating the way your blood dripped down on the floor because of him. And the look in your beautiful eyes…he hated himself just a little more.

He rubbed his face in frustration, knowing that if he didn’t put his hands to use, he’d pull you into his arms with them. “You’re not no…fuck. I just shouldn’t have… I lost control. I was taking advantage and I’m not going to be-“

You scoffed, offended, and cut him off. “I can’t believe you. Are you seriously blaming yourself for me ending up in bed with you? God, I wish- I wish you would realize that I’m in fact an adult and have critical thinking skills. If I wanted to stay away from you, I would’ve. If I didn’t want to be close to you, Rome would’ve never happened the way it did. Do you really think I would’ve let you fuck me when I didn’t fucking want you so badly I can’t even breathe? Are you thinking this low of me, John?”

You hated the way your voice had started shaking, the insecurity of the past days rising again in your chest. For the first time, you really acknowledged the years between him and you. Your heart was young. If he was going to break it, you’d have all the time in the world to heal – but without him.

John shook his head, a tortured expression on his face. “It’s not- Christ, I could never think low of you. But this can’t happen. It’s not about you, it’s…”

Just as he wanted to turn away from you, you grabbed his shoulder and spun him back around. “Then tell me what this is about. Talk to me!”

You were standing close now, him looking down on you with dark, clouded eyes. Fighting against himself on the inside. Lowly, he said: “I’m fifteen years older than you. This is a new situation for all of us and if anything, I’m supposed to be someone who protects you, a- a friend.”

The word tasted bitter in your mouth. “Friends don’t sleep with each other like it means something.”

And just like that, the fire was back in him. “Fine, then someone who’s not taking advantage when there’s clearly a power imbalance! This is problematic.”

“You’re not taking advantage.” You urged, clinging to the little hope you had of talking some sense into him, although you felt just as mad as he did. “I want you. You want me.”

“How could I not want you?!” John exploded, muscular chest falling and rising rapidly, out of control when his heart was only screaming for you. “You’re smart and beautiful and the best thing that happened to me in months and I stood no chance, none. I’m trying to be reasonable and good for once in this new fuckery that’s my life and I’m tired of pretending I don’t want you and you keep making it so fucking hard to stay away from you.”

You were breathing each other’s air, the anger you had held on to not lose your mind slowly saying goodbye and vanishing in the depths of his blue eyes. John looked defeated and regretful and wide open and you felt yourself taking another step. Right into his space, his heart. (But that had been yours from the beginning on.)

“Then don’t.” You said simply and took his hand, his large warm palm resting in your uninjured smaller one. “I don’t want you to stay away from me. We can fight or argue or whatever it is you prefer over fucking me senseless the way I want you to. Even if there was a power balance, I wouldn’t give a fuck if it means I’d have you. I…want to be close to you and I want to fall asleep in your arms without worrying that you will disappear in the morning. But I also want to joke with you and talk and- go back to how it used to be between us. Just…don’t go back to ignoring me because I can’t take that and- I’ll murder you if you do.” You ended weakly, a sad smile on your face.

John swallowed hard, his long exhale unsteady as his thumb brushed softly over your hand. “You’re too good. I didn’t want to treat you like this, it’s just…I think I’m going to screw this over like I do with everything else in my life. If I’m ever hurting you again, I’ll gladly let you end me, honey.”

There it was again, the nickname.

Familiar and soothing.

Slowly, as if you were about to startle him, you leaned up on your tiptoes and let your lips press the smallest kiss to his stubbled jaw. Lovingly, you murmured against his skin: “Idiot.”

“I know, I know…” He pressed his lips together, his eyes so full of longing, you almost forgot to breathe. “I’m going to make this up to you. You deserve the fucking world and I’m…I’m gonna try to be better.”

You softened. “You’re already good enough for me.”

He didn’t agree, but he also didn’t argue.

Instead, John pulled you into his arms and held you against his chest. You let out a sigh, marveling at the way your head fitted perfectly under his chin, how you felt at home in the blink of an eye, cradled and loved the way you were meant to me.

“I don’t just want sex.” John murmured into your hairline, his hand rubbing circles onto your small shoulders. “I want it all, with you. If you’ll have me.”

You smiled, dazed and hopeful and wide open. “I already got you, John.”

“Good.” He nodded, his lips kissing the top of your head, then your temple, your nose. You could’ve stayed like this forever, tired out by the fight but finally at peace before his deep voice broke the silence in the gym once more. “Will you please let me look at your hand now?”

And despite the low throbbing pain in your knuckles, you laughed breathlessly into his chest.

For a while, things between John and you were fragile, careful.

What had started out as a fire out of control had simmered down to a slow exploration of each other, cautious of any more bumps his self-punishing streak could cause.

You were still doing breakfast together, but now those lazy mornings would start with neck kisses and tasting blueberries and pancakes on his lips. You still had some age jokes in the chamber and so had the rest of your team now that you didn’t hide anymore.

You were as unapologetic about your attachment as ever and you couldn’t help but beam every time John lost some of his self-hate. When your hand found his or your head needed to rest on his shoulder for a while, he’d let it happen.

At some point – you couldn’t really pinpoint how it started – John developed a habit where he couldn’t sleep without you. It started slow, with him quietly trailing after you once movie night ended, a big shadow following you to your room. He’d move in sync with you and help you out of your clothes only to put one of his shirts on you. 

In the beginning, your heart had nearly exploded when John had crawled into bed with you, his touch searching but not demanding as he moved you like a dolly until you’d fit perfectly against him and he was satisfied with the amount of his skin making contact with yours. He was kind of like an oversized teddy bear like this and when you whispered exactly that into his ear, he softly slapped your ass and cuddled you even closer.

Those were the peaceful and quiet nights at the tower.

You came to know others, too.

There were times when John still blocked you off.

There was so much guilt inside of him, suffocating him at times where he would’ve shut off completely in the past. But when he drew up his walls now, they went up with you in them. In the dark silence of his room, where everything felt too heavy and out of control, you laid yourself on top of him, a warm and very much alive safety blanket that grounded him better than any self-destructive gym session ever could.

And when you brushed some of his hair away from his forehead, taking care of his bruised soul with the softest touches and words, John knew he was going to be okay.

Magically, your things wandered over into his room over time until you couldn’t imagine anymore what it was like before, pining after one another wall to wall. Your nights always consisted of murmured conversations now, nose to nose and keeping each other warm and comfy and you resisted the urge to pinch yourself if this was really your life now. (John pinched himself on a daily basis.)

He learned every way to make love to you, sometimes sensual and slow, other times hard and fast when you both needed it to be that. You were more than smug when you discovered that John was kinda getting off on knowing you were younger now, allowing himself to love you unashamed, for all you were.

Your hunger for each other was insatiable. Ever-growing.

Like a fire you could only put out when he was balls deep inside of you and even then, John and you burned.

This morning, miraculously, he and you had stayed in bed.

You had gotten home from a quick mission a few days ago, but the time difference was still messing with your head. Since John revealed himself to be an oversized cuddly bear, you had a hard time getting out of bed early in the morning anymore. Which meant: you literally couldn’t move because his arms wouldn’t let go of you.

You stifled a little yawn, content to watch the city outside of the panorama windows for now, John’s body a steady presence against your back. You remembered having fallen asleep on top of him, but now he was spooning you, your head bedded on his bicep and his other arm slung around your waist, massive hand close to cup your chest.

It was so natural, familiar.

If your mornings started out anything different than this, without him, you didn’t want them.

You sighed happily and shifted back against his tall form, luring a sleepy groan from deep within his chest when your barely clothed bum brushed against his dick. John’s arms tightened around you and he exhaled deeply, burying his face in your neck and making you squirm as his hot breath hit the sensitive skin behind your ear.

“’morning…” He murmured, his hoarse sleepy voice sending pleasant shivers down your spine. Last night, you had ridden him like a goddess, taking him deep inside of you as he worshipped your body dutifully and let you lead. He had stayed inside afterwards, out of breath for once and a fucking goner for the girl in his lap. But now, with him so closely plastered to your back, his thumb brushing lazy circles around your rosy buds, you knew he was far from done with you.

You looked over your shoulder and touched his beard. “Hi…time to take your morning meds yet?”

His nose scrunched up, two of his fingers plucking on your nipple and making you moan between your giggling. “Fuck off.”

“Actually, no.” You grinned at him, rubbing your ass shamelessly against the growing bulge in his boxers. “Fuck me.”

John shook his head in playful disbelief, brushing your hair away from your shoulder so he could kiss your neck, all open-mouthed and wet and exactly how you craved it right now. You could already feel yourself getting wet from being so thoroughly caged in by him, no chance of escaping his sweet assault. “Such a dirty girl…you already soaked, honey?”

You grabbed his chin and led him up, kissing him filthily as he moaned into your mouth and your ass rubbed over his hard dick just right. “Come and find out, old man.”

That was every invitation he needed.

In a whirlwind, John threw the covers off the bed, leaving you unprotected and barely clothed in front of him. You bent one of your legs, showing him how wet the silky fabric of your lace panties already were, your chest blooming with hickeys and bite marks he had left on you when you had bounced on it last night.

John’s eyes darkened, fixed on the dark patch over your center. He loved the color of your hair against his navy-blue sheets. Loved how you smelled like him, how familiar you were in his space. And he loved nothing more than fucking his girl into oblivion and he licked his lips, planning to do just that.

You writhed against his sheets, beaming under his undivided attention, breath hitching when he leaned over you and parted your legs with his hips. John hummed deep in his throat, nosing at your neck as he took both your wrists and placed them up over your head. Quickly, he pulled his shorts down and threw your panties over his shoulder.

“Fuck, John…” You stared up at him, trusting and excited and he thought, if he wouldn’t get into trouble about it, he’d keep you in this room forever. Away from everyone else that wasn’t him, his to cherish and love and fuck.

“’gonna take care of my baby girl.” He mumbled, kissing down your chest before he pushed his hips forward. You both exhaled sharply when his long, curved cock slid over your wet pussy just right.

The friction was delicious and you seized up, back bowing off the bed as he started to rub himself against your core, coating his length in your arousal like it fucking belonged to him. Your fingers closed around nothing, trying to center yourself and he noticed instantly and surged down, connecting your lips in a hot lazy kiss.

“Shit, that feels s-so good…” You whimpered between kisses. Your efforts to somehow match his rhythm couldn’t compare to his authority. It was John leading, knowing what you needed. You slumped back and gasped when the tip caught at your clit, soaking it in his precum too.

“Jesus, you’re unbelievable.” John peppered kisses over your boobs, sucking them into his mouth and listening to your little moans like it was a symphony. You were ruining the bed and he fucking loved it, feeling your legs around his waist, heels digging into his butt as he kept grinding against you.

“I need you to- fuck, get inside me.” For emphasis, you bit down on his bottom lip. “Now.”

John sat back, letting go of your wrists and being immediately pulled down by you. “Greedy little thing.”

“You were the one who woke up with a boner.”

“You rubbed yourself against me.”

You winked at him. “I heard old people often just need enrichment.”

John chuckled darkly. “Oh, honey. I’m gonna fuck the sass right out of you.”

Yes please.

He sank down on you, stroking himself one more time before he slowly pushed into you. You sometimes still needed a moment – the serum had enhanced everything – and he watched carefully, the little frown on your face softening as you adjusted, your hands a bit shaky on his shoulders.

His calloused thumb circled your clit for a while and slowly, you eased up around him with a sigh.

“’s good…” You nodded and tested the waters by flexing around him, eliciting a bunch of curses from his mouth at the sudden pressure. You giggled in delight, a little unbelieving, a lot in love. He was yours and he was not going to leave again. “You can move. Don’t hold back.”

John kissed you, pulling out almost all the way before he pushed back into you, making your toes curl as he started a steady passionate rhythm. You moaned against his lips, fingers digging into his shoulders and holding onto him tight.

“Fuck yesss…” You hissed as he cupped your bum with one hand and lifted you just a little bit, the new angle allowing John to hit your g-spot just right.

“God, you’re so wet for me, honey.” John groaned, resting his head against your shoulder and moving you back and forth on his cock as if you weighed nothing at all. “’m gonna make you see stars.”

The snarky remark on your tongue died as he swiftly turned you around on your stomach before immediately pressing himself flat against your back.

“You’re mine.” He growled, hand pushing your sticky thighs apart as he buried himself in you once more, your whimper damped only briefly by the pillows before his hand came to rest easy on your throat and lifted your head. A moment later, he bit you and you convulsed around him.

He fucked into you as if he hadn’t already claimed you for himself. Full of purpose and aching need, hot-headed and adoring. John bullied his hand between you and the mattress, cupping your whole pussy with it as he grinded into you like a man possessed.

“You look so fucking beautiful, honey, so cute with your little whimpers.” He whispered into your ear, knowing he had you completely now. “’gonna come in you so deep, you’ll feel it for days. My good girl. Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight.”

You sobbed in pleasure, not caring for your drool on his pillow, trying to grab behind yourself and push him deeper.

He growled into the soft space between your shoulder blades. “Still need more of me, hm? We can fix that.”

In one swift, strong motion, he sat back on his haunches and took you with him, your whole body boneless and slumping against him, just as you had woken up. Your back against his chest, your dripping pussy now spread wide around his dick.

You shrieked, feeling him up in your belly and grabbed his hair, letting yourself be lifted and pushed down on his cock like he wanted to. The filthy sound of skin slapping against skin, combined with your shared moans, filled the room. It was fucking heaven.

With one of his hands still resting lightly on your throat, the other sneaked down and rubbed your throbbing clit and you moaned his name, head dropping onto his shoulder as he bucked wildly into you.

“J-John, I’m gonna come-“ You whimpered, reduced to only feeling him, your combined scent enveloping you and mind slipping further away as white-hot pleasure completely overwhelmed you.

“That’s it.” John gritted his teeth, spurning you on towards the edge. “Come on my cock, honey. Let me feel you. Fuck yeah-“

You screamed, falling over the edge in his arms and letting go of yourself entirely. John held you through it, his hips bucking a few more times until he came with you, both of your bodies almost melting into one as he slowly let you down on the bed and gathered your twitching body right back into his arms.

He was still inside of you and you smiled blissfully at him through your lashes, brushing a few blond strands away from his sweaty forehead. John looked absolutely wrecked for you and you couldn’t help but hide your wide smile in his chest. You were so full of him, blissed out and sleepy and he was still there, right where he belonged. With you.

“You are incredible.” John said quietly and kissed your temple, both of you slowly climbing down from your high as your breath mingled. “So, so good for me…”

“If you continue sweet talking to me like that, we’re not going to leave the bed.” You whispered while drawing little hearts on his naked chest.

John huffed out a laugh. “Not a problem for me.”

“For me neither.” You playfully bit down on his pec and he groaned underneath his breath. “Just worrying about you, y’know?”

“Ah, come on.” His hand glid over your spine, softly stroking your back and keeping you warm. You felt him softening inside of you, but it’d be only a matter of time if you kept this up. “Don’t make me proof myself like this.”

“We’ll see.” You kissed his nose contently. “I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.” John smiled, hiking your leg a little higher on his hip for comfort. It wasn’t the first time you had said it, the words lived in by now yet making his heart flutter every single time he got to say or hear them. He was home.

After a while, in the quietness of his bedroom, John blinked back at you and muttered: “I think I pulled something in my back.”

Your giggle echoed in his ears, his heart.

Recently, John was grateful for a lot of things, but above all, he was grateful that you had not given up on him and made him stay.

And now? He was never going to let go of you again.

────୨ৎ────

taglist: @sagexsenorita @ivedonemywaiting13 @soantiyou @fandom-trash-kenzie @iamthatonefangirl @gummy-little-bear @princesschyanne @starktonyx @slutfordaddyjohnwalker @olivia21blunt @somemadart @smooth-raikkonen @voidslxt

[bambiihee]

ROMANTICISM HANDLED WITH DISCIPLINE ── 박성훈

your professor catches you reading a not-so-safe-for-school book in the middle of his class. in an effort to make things better, you fear that you may have just made them worse.

⧼ 📜 ⧽ 一 pairing༚ ⸝⸝⸝ professor!park sunghoon ✗ student!fem!reader includes ༚ ༚ ༚ jungwon, jay and jake of enhypen, giselle and karina of aespa

genre ༚ ༚ ༚ smut, fluff, porn with plot

warnings༚ ⸝⸝⸝ teacher/student, age gaps, power play, light dom/sub dynamics, dom!sunghoon, masturbation (f. rec), erotic literature, explicit language and sexual content, spanking, dirty talk, pet names, praise kink, name calling (slut), wet dreams, impact play, oral (m. rec), cumming in pants, facefucking, deepthroat, big dick sunghoon, doggy style, sex on furniture, unprotected sex, creampies, talk of contraception (reader is on birth control), alcohol mentions, drinking and partying, hair pulling, size kink word count༚ 12 . 2 k | ⧼ 🗝️ ⧽ 一 to library༚

[notes.] a rewrite of a rewrite of one of the first ever fics i've ever written! this fic was originally written for soobin of txt, but i took that one down when i decided to discontinue writing for that group. but thanks to my lovely mutuals, they asked (demanded) that i rewrite it for hoon <3 this is a romanticization of student/teacher relationships where both parties are consenting adults, but it is important to note that these relationships can be problematic in real life due to one parties authority over another's and unstable power dynamics. banner done by my beloved mootie @heechwe! reblogs and feedback are very appreciated <3 i hope you enjoy!

YOUR FRENCH LITERATURE professor embodies everything you find detestable in a teacher. His classes are a monotonous drone of information, devoid of anything exciting or engaging, though that might not be entirely his fault with how painfully, mind numbingly boring the subject he teaches is. He rarely ever deviates from his tight-lipped script, and he absolutely refuses to entertain any questions or foster any interesting discussion. He never accepted late assignments or gave any extensions, his tests are ridiculously hard, and he’ll dock points off your assignments for the tiniest, stupidest reasons. Sure, it’s a difficult course, and it’s important to your major, but you swear he seems to take some kind of pleasure in making his students miserable. Each class feels like an eternity, and often you find yourself counting down the minutes until you can escape the insufferable, suffocating atmosphere of his classroom.

Yet, for some strange, inexplicable reason, you find yourself absolutely obsessed with him.

Maybe it was because you spent your time in his class focusing more on him than any of the words that came out of his mouth. His irritatingly handsome, angular face and his pouty, kissable lips, the moles on his cheeks framing his tall nose. The way his thick brow furrows and his lip curls when one of your classmates asks a question that he deems too stupid to grace with an answer. His big veiny hands and how they look shuffling papers and twirling pens, filling your head with thoughts of how they would look caressing your body. His tall, fit frame and how he towers over you whenever you come up to him, the way he has to lower his head to look you in the eye, a soldering heat bubbling in your belly from the way he makes you feel so small. You can’t stand to be his student, but you dream at night about being something else to him entirely— it’s a paradox that drives you to detrimental distraction. How can you be so obsessed with someone you loathe? His perplexing combination of qualities was like some kind of mystery you felt compelled to unravel, at the very least to put your own mind at ease.

That was when you found the novel. It was hidden in the romance section of your favorite used bookstore, squished between two old technicolor cover harlequin novels, it’s dark and simple spine juxtaposing against all the bright colors and ornate fonts. It intrigued you enough to pull it from the shelf and look it over, your cheeks heating up as you take in its cover. A headless, well-dressed man sat in a chair with his legs spread invitingly, the smart suit he was wearing disheveled and his undone belt held tightly in his hand, the leather strap resting against his inner thigh. The title Lessons in Attraction was printed where his head would be, vague but provocative enough to make your stomach flip. The man immediately reminded you of Professor Park, from the way he was dressed to the prominent veins in his hands, and when you flip the book over to read the synopsis you understand the connection. It outlines the story of a steamy romance between a strict economics professor and his teaching assistant, an innocent, young virgin who wants nothing more than to please. It was as if the author had plucked your deepest fantasies straight from your head and printed them out on paper, then planted the book in the perfect spot for you specifically to discover. You knew just from skimming through the pages that reading it would only do you more harm than good, but you just couldn’t put it down, drawn to the story like an addict needing a fix. You hid it in your stack of textbooks, and you refused to look the cashier in the eye as they checked you out.

At first, you had intended to keep it hidden in your bedroom, only to be read late at night when your roommates were either out or asleep. But as your obsession with your professor continued to deepen, so did your obsession with the novel; soon you found yourself taking it with you everywhere you went, reading snippets whenever you had the chance and quickly shoving back into your bag anytime someone would walk by or glance over at you. Your dreams devolved into graphic, vivid replays of your favorite dirty scenes, with Professor Park in the place of the professor from the story. You wake up hot and bothered every morning, and his class becomes even more difficult with your head now full of illicit, naughty fantasies. Everything he does makes your belly swirl with need, even something as simple as running a hand through his hair or adjusting his glasses— you can’t even bare to look at him, and instead try your hardest to focus on whatever boring tangent he was rambling on about… until you caught yourself fantasizing about how his deep voice would sound whispering dirty words in your ear.

You couldn’t take it anymore. Professor Park's lectures were beginning to feel more like sick torture— you needed something to keep you distracted before you went insane.

So, against your better judgement, you started to bring the novel to read in class. You sat far enough in the back that you were certain he wouldn’t notice, and your poor classmates were too bored out of their minds to look your way. It was easy to keep it hidden away tucked in your lap, so you could pretend to be writing in your notebook while you read. Something about it excited you, reading about fucking your professor with your real professor standing there in front of you, none the wiser. Being able to admire him as you indulged in your secret desires. If he caught you, you would be humiliated, but you would be lying if you said that the thought didn’t excite you…

"Miss L/N, what are you doing?”

You nearly shoot straight out of your chair, your professor’s sudden call of your name shocking you out of your reverie. You had gotten so absorbed into your novel that you had forgotten to check to see if he was looking your way. “H-huh?”

“You keep looking at your lap.” Professor Park remarks, peering up at you from his spot at the podium with an unamused frown. His thick-rimmed glasses made his pretty brown eyes appear even larger than they already were, blinking up at you like he was studying you through a magnifying glass. “You’re not on your phone, are you? You know I have a no-tolerance policy when it comes to electronics.”

“Oh! No, sir, I’m just…” your startled gaze bounces back to the book in your lap, and you swallow nervously. “Reading.”

“Reading?” Professor Park echoes, raising his brow. “What are you reading? I assume it’s not the textbook, from the look on your face.”

You blanche, trying your hardest to appear nonchalant as you snap the book shut and shove it down into the recesses of your school bag. “It’s nothing!” You reply far too quickly, sounding guiltier than sin.

Professor Park's lips pull into a thin line, his magnified eyes raking over your sweating face before trailing down to your bag, clasped protectively over your lap.

“Give it to me.” he orders curtly, stretching out his hand.

Your heart drops to the pit of your stomach. “What?! W-why?!”

“Reading anything that isn’t the course material is against my class rules— I have it printed clearly on the syllabus, though with how you can never seem to pay attention I wouldn’t be surprised if you missed it when I went over it at the beginning of the semester. I would recommend looking over it again to see if there’s anything else you’ve forgotten. Now, get up and hand me that book.”

The entire class has turned to look at you now too, dozens of pairs of eyes fixated on your every move. The silence is absolutely deafening. Your heart races and your hands tremble as you squirm in your seat, trying desperately to come up with some sort of escape as if you were in a horror movie; you might as well be, because out of all the ghouls and monsters you can think of, this has to be your worst nightmare.

You consider refusing. Technically, Professor Park couldn’t force you to do anything you didn’t want to— hell, you could walk right out of the classroom right then and there if you really wanted to, with both your book and your dignity intact. After all, you were a grown adult paying to further your education out of your own pocket. Trying to confiscate your belongings as if you were a child was borderline insulting.

But you can’t risk your grade over something like this, as embarrassing as it was, and you wouldn’t put it past him to penalize you in some way for defying your orders. You were already struggling as it was, partly because of how difficult the coursework was and mostly because of how you could never concentrate whenever Professor Park was around. To make matters even worse, passing was a requirement for your degree. Getting even more on his bad side than you already were simply not an option.

It takes every ounce of energy you have to force yourself to stand up out of your seat and trudge down to Professor Park's podium, clutching your novel against your chest like you were clutching pearls. He has to pry it out of your hand with a considerable amount of force, because you can’t seem to loosen your fingers around the cover.

You scamper back to your seat, but not before turning back to see Professor Park eye the cover with a startled expression. It would have been comical if you didn’t feel like you were seconds away from throwing up all over your desk.

He places it gingerly face-down on his desk like he was handling a dead fish, and you’re both grateful and horrified that he noticeably avoids making eye contact with you when he steps back up on his podium. “You can come by my office later to get it back, Miss L/N. I have a free period at six.”

“Yes, sir.” You answer glumly, staring at your shoes.

Luckily for you, he dismisses the class only a few minutes later, muttering about something to do with grading papers. You’ve never ran out of that lecture hall so fast in your life.

“Whoa, what’s up with you?” your friend Jungwon asks when you walk by him in the hall, looking up from his phone and tugging out his earbuds to cock his head in your direction. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost or something.”

You stop just long enough to realize that you were still running, even though you had made it nearly halfway across the building. “I’m so fucked.” You state simply.

“What? What happened? Did you do something to piss off Professor Park again?”

“Yes. No. Kind of?” you cringe inwardly. There’s absolutely no way you’re telling Jungwon about any of what happened; he’d laugh at you to the point you fear you might actually start crying. “I don’t want to talk about it. I gotta go.”

You shuffle away before he can respond, and while you feel bad ignoring him as he calls out to you in confusion, you’re focused solely on finding somewhere quiet and empty to hide out until your next class. And maybe grabbing an iced coffee or something. Just to drown out the tears as you wallow in your own misery.

Against all odds, you manage to make it through the rest of your classes. The wait was almost worse than getting caught, barely able to sit still in your seat as you panic inwardly for hours on end. If it was Professor Park's intention to psychologically torture you, he wildly succeeded.

And you’re absolutely sure it was, because the first thing you see once you step into his office is your professor lounging back in his chair reading your book.

“Professor!” you yelp.

He glances up from your book, a mischievous glint shining in his eyes as he sends you a tight-lipped smile. “Oh, Miss Y/N! You’re just in time. I was just flipping through your book here, it seems awfully… interesting.”

You gulp, your trembling hands clutching the strap of your bag in a vain attempt to ground yourself. “Um, sir!” you squeak, rushing to his side to glance over his shoulder at what page he was on, praying to whatever god that will listen that he hasn’t read anything raunchy. “I think it would be best if you, um, didn’t read that…”

“Oh?” He flips the page and quirks his brow, not even sparing you a second glance as he adjusts his glasses, “What do you mean?”

You rack your brain desperately for a good enough excuse, but you can’t think of anything other than just how mortified you were, watching helplessly as your professor’s keen eyes scan over the pages. “Can I have it back now?” you say instead, your voice small and shaking.

“Surely you can wait just a little longer— now I’m dying to know why you don’t want me to read this.” Professor Park's crooked smirk infuriates you.

Was there any possible way that you could talk your way out of this without telling him upfront that what he was holding in his hands was an erotica, one about a teacher and a student no less? You shuffle nervously, stumbling over your words as you try to stutter out something, anything, “You, um… you wouldn’t like it.”

He turns his head to look up at you again, the look in his eye sharply changing when he takes in your frightened state, into something you don’t recognize and aren’t sure you like. “How can you be sure I wouldn’t enjoy it? I’m a fan of many different genres of literature, though I’ve never read anything quite like this before. Is it some sort of romance novel? If it is, you don’t have to be ashamed, Miss Y/N. I’m sure many young women such as yourself read these sorts of novels, though I strongly discourage reading them while I’m in the middle of a lecture. It’s simply disrespectful. Now, where was I?”

He trails his finger down the page as if he was looking for his place, and you bristle. “Sir, seriously, don’t—!”

“I followed my professor to his office, watching with bated breath as he rounded his big wooden desk.”  Professor Park begins to read aloud. You barely stop yourself from screaming, instead letting out a sort of pained choking sound. “He stopped to stand behind me, looking down my shoulder as if he were looking over my essay just as I was. I had made three errors in my writing, each one circled in bright red ink. He seemed more upset about it than usual.”

“Professor, please.”

“’Put that essay on my desk.’ he said, so I did.” Professor Park continues, ignoring you. He had gave the professor character a stupid, high pitched voice when he spoke, which would have been funny if you weren’t so humiliated. “’Now bend over with your elbows on my desk, so that you are looking directly at the essay. Keep your face very close.’”

“Stop it! Just let me have it!” You hated to talk to him this way, but if he continued reading any further… it took everything you had to keep yourself from running out of his office and crawling into the nearest ditch to die in.

“That’s not how you should speak to me, Miss Y/N. Now you certainly aren’t getting it back.” Professor Park retorted, his evil little smirk growing even wider. You wanted to hit him, or kick or scream, but you couldn’t do anything except stand there and try your hardest not to cry. “I was puzzled, but I followed his instructions, bending over the top of his desk so that my chest, belly and arms were pressed against the hardwood. My nose was merely a centimeter or two away from the letter, which made it difficult to read. My skirt was starting to… to slide up the backs of my thighs, but I was sure that if I moved to tug it back down, I would just get into even more trouble.”

You grimace when Professor Park's voice broke, his smile slowly starting to slide off his face and twisting into something unreadable. But he did not stop reading. “’Now read the letter to yourself. Read it over and over again.’ My professor said. I read: “In today’s rapidly evolving global landscape, the integration of technology in…” and at the word “integration”, which I had misspelled, he— he… um… Oh.”

You began to feel less like wanting to die and more like you were actually dying. Professor Park stares hard at the pages for a painfully long moment, his ears turning bright cherry red, but to your surprise and absolute mortification, he began to read aloud again. His voice had dropped that cheerful quality, however, sounding winded as if he had been hit upside the head. “At the word “integration”, which I had misspelled, he reeled his arm back and spanked me hard. I stopped reading with a loud gasp, shocked— the sting reverberated through my core, fiery hot, and despite my embarrassment I began to soak through my panties. At my silence, I was spanked again, even harder. ‘I said read it.’ My professor reminded me. ‘Be a good girl and follow instructions.’”

Professor Park shuts the book closed abruptly and looks up at you with a very red face and wide eyes. The tears that had been pooling in your lashes threaten to spill down your cheeks, so overcome with fear and embarrassment that your stomach turns like you're going to be sick. That was just what you needed to top off this already life-ruining experience, wasn’t it; vomiting all over your professor after he uncovers your darkest, dirtiest secret.

“This is extremely inappropriate material to bring on campus.” Professor Park finally says, his voice wavering.

“Yes, sir.”

“And that relationship, it’s… wrong. It’s against the university’s code of conduct. I— he could get fired for that.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You shouldn’t be reading this. It’ll put... thoughts in your head that don’t need to be there.”

“…Yes, sir.” Part of you wants to argue with him, remind him that you’re an adult and can read whatever it is that you would like, but you don’t have the strength to.

He sighs heavily, like something important is weighing on his mind, and he hands you back your book before turning back to pour over the scattered, forgotten papers on his desk. “Go home, Miss L/N. And get rid of that book.”

You turn tail and scamper out into the hall, but you can’t help but glance back into Professor Park's office as you leave. He’s hunched over his desk with his elbows resting on the wood, his fingers tangled in his dark hair as he rests his head in his hands. It seems like something is bothering him, something bigger than grading papers or your stupid, silly book.

You don’t stick around to find out what it is.

The next morning, you receive a rather hastily written email from Professor Park telling you that he’s cancelling classes for the rest of the week. He’s come down with a cold, he claims— you and the sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach know better than to believe that.

You don’t see him until that next Monday, but even then he might as well not have shown up at all. He struggles to get through his lesson plan even more than usual, and he wouldn’t look away from his papers or the projector, even when one of your classmates raised their hand to ask a question. You spent the entire period gathering up the courage to go up to him after his lecture, but when you do he brushes you off with a lame, half-baked excuse about having papers to grade and no time to talk, grabbing his things in a rush and scampering out of the lecture hall before you can call out for him to come back.

The pit in your stomach opens up into a black hole, swallowing up everything except for overwhelming, gnawing anxiety. It’s eating you up inside, manifesting itself in how you’ve chewed your lips until they bled, and then bit your nails down to the quicks— anyone with eyes could see that something was weighing on you, and you became increasingly tired of all your friends asking if anything was wrong, so once you were finished with your classes you took to hiding out in your dorm room curled up on the couch, your favorite fluffy blanket wrapped around you as you sullenly binge-watched a k-drama you’ve seen a thousand times.

While you were more of a homebody, your two roommates were much the opposite. Karina and Giselle loved to go out and party. Tonight was no different, the two of them flittering around the dorm as they got ready to go out to some club, and while they had given up on trying to get you to join them a while ago, something about the way you moped about seemed to reinvigorate Karina’s desire to get you off of your ass and out on the town. She knew you better than anybody, and immediately she could sniff out that something was off.

“Why don’t you come with us? You can borrow one of my dresses.” She offers, rummaging through her collection of high heels. “It’s a Friday night, everyone’s out! We can dance, we can find some boys to take home; it’ll be fun. You look like you need some.”

“I don’t need to have fun. I need to study.” You reply solemnly, scowling, but you make no moves to get up off the couch. It was a shitty excuse even to your own ears; it was obvious you didn’t have any plans to do anything tonight except feel sorry for yourself.

“That’s bullshit and you know it.” She huffs. You don’t even have to look at her to know that she’s rolling her eyes. “Something’s bothering you and you won’t even tell me or Gigi what’s wrong. Don’t you think a drink or two would be good for you? You can vent to us all night, too. I promise we’ll listen.”

“I don’t know if I even want to tell you about it.”

“Why not? We’re your best friends, Y/Nie. You can tell us anything, even if it’s stupid or embarrassing. If it’s bothering you this badly, it’s clearly something serious.”

You peer out from under the blanket to look over at Karina— the worry in her eyes makes your heart sink. Under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t even consider taking her or Giselle up on their offers, but the way you were stuck running circles inside your head was far from normal. “You promise not to laugh at me?” She smiles warmly. “Nope. But I promise I’ll hear you out regardless.”

The loud, thumping bass reverberating throughout the club did very little to help ease your pounding headache. Your temples throbbed with every beat, the pressure so severe it felt as if your skull was just moments away from splitting in two. You don’t think you’ve ever been this uncomfortable in your life; the dress that Karina gave to you was a size or two too small, the shiny fabric so tight around your chest that you gasp for air. It would be difficult for you to breathe even in properly fitting clothes, the air hot and heavy from the throngs of sweaty bodies that surrounded you. You felt claustrophobic, the crowd closing in on you and threatening to swallow you whole— the only place to escape was to the bar, but even there you’re bombarded with flashing lights, deafening music, and the overlapping voices of everyone around you. You have to strain your ears to make out what Giselle was saying, and she was just on the barstool right next to yours.

“Aren’t you glad you came?” She giggles, sipping on a brightly colored cocktail. She had ordered a round of them for all three of you, and the amount of alcohol mixed in them felt like a sucker punch to the face, even with all the sickeningly sweet grenadine the bartender had used to try and mask the flavor. You watch in abject horror as both she and Karina downed them one by one like they were water.

“No.”  you reply honestly.

“You will once you tell us what’s going on with you!” Karina interjects from your other side. “I meant it when I said I wanted you to vent to us, let it all out and give us the tea! Aeri’s dying to know.”

“It’s really embarrassing…” you admit, staring forlornly down at your own drink. “I’d rather just forget all about it.”

“It can’t be that bad. You didn’t drop your pants in front of everyone or anything, did you?”

You cringe. “God, no. It’s not like that.”

“Then it’s nothing you can’t tell us about.” Giselle shoots you a smile over the rim of her glass.

“It’s… it’s about Professor Park.”

“You and Gigi's lit professor?” Karina asks, cocking her head. “Isn’t he the one you have a massive crush on?”

Your cheeks flush, your drink becoming even more interesting as you avoid looking at either of them in the eye. “Maybe.”

“Ugh, your taste in men is the worst.” Giselle snickers. “I don’t understand why you like him so much. He’s such a dick.”

You fight down the urge to defend him— for some odd reason, you feel a surge of protectiveness over Professor Park, even when you completely agree with what Giselle is saying about him. “Yes, I like him, but that’s not the point. The point is that I totally fucked up and now I think he hates me.”

“What did you do?! Please tell me you cursed him out, he fucking deserves it.”

“No, Gigi, oh my God.” Even the mere thought of doing something like that sends shivers down your spine. “He caught me reading during class.”

“…That’s it? You’re freaking out over that?” Giselle blinks.

“It’s what I was reading that’s the problem.” you lament miserably, gathering your courage with a sip of your disgusting cocktail. “I have this book; it’s about a teacher and a student… getting together, if you know what I mean. It’s really dirty… and he caught me reading it in class. He took it, and then he read it himself right in front of me! He thinks I’m a freak. It’s been two days and he won’t even look at me.”

Karina and Giselle stare at you.

“Why the hell were you reading a smut book in class?!” Karina gasps, her dark glittery makeup making her wide eyes look even wider. “And one about a professor, too— were you trying to get caught? There’s better ways to go about telling him that you want to fuck him.”

“I don’t know— I was bored and stupid, okay?!” You had been asking yourself the same question for days, mentally beating yourself to a pulp every time it crossed your mind. “I thought he wouldn’t notice me since I sat in the back… now he’s going to tell the dean, and I’m going to get expelled, and—”

“Woah, woah, woah!” Giselle stops you in your downwards spiral, grabbing your shoulder to ground you. “You’re thinking too hard about this. He’s probably just a prude. If he was going to do something like that, he would have probably done it by now. Plus, I don’t think that’s really something you can be expelled over.”

You lean into her touch, resting your head on her shoulder as she pats your back comfortingly. “He’s mad at me…” you whine petulantly. “I was trying to get that TA position, too… fuck, I’m so screwed.”

“What would he be mad at you for? Being horny?” Karina laughs, “It’s really his own fault for snooping in your stuff.”

“I think you’ll still get it.” Giselle supplies helpfully. “You’ve really got nothing to worry about. Sure, your grade sucks, but I’ve seen the two of you talking in the hallway before— the way he looks at you is insane. And the way he looks at your ass when you leave is even crazier. You just showed him that you feel the same way about him that he does about you.”

“Don’t say that.” You groan. “You think that about every guy I talk to. There’s no way in hell that Professor Park feels anything for me except hatred.”

“If you’re really that worried about it, you can always just apologize.” Karina says, drumming her long nails against her glass. “It might not do anything, but it’ll make you feel better.”

That was the first bit of real advice either her or Giselle had given you in a while, even if it left a bad taste in your mouth. “I don’t know. I feel like that would just make things worse. I need to go to the bathroom.”

You scramble off the barstool in a rush, teetering on your heels— you weren’t even that tipsy, but every step made you feel like a newborn deer. Karina and Giselle watch you hobble away in pity.

You stumble through the crowd in search of a bathroom sign, quickly getting lost in the sea of bodies. There’s little room to move around, everyone pressed up against each other dancing, too intoxicated to notice you trying to politely squeeze by. They jostle and knock you around, and you nearly trip over your own wobbly feet multiple times. Your headache grows nearly unbearable, your desperation to find an escape leading you to start pushing people out of the way so you can continue to move forward. One particularly drunk woman nearly knocks you to the ground, and she shoots you a dirty look over her shoulder when you shoulder past her roughly. You hate to be rude, but you’re teetering dangerously close to your breaking point. You need to find some peace and quiet, and fast.

But all of that goes out the window when among the countless bobbing and weaving heads, you spot a frighteningly familiar pair of broad shoulders.

“Professor Park?!” you call out in shock, shoving your way towards him. “What are you doing here?!”

Without his suits and big clunky glasses on, you almost don’t recognize him. He was leaning back against the wall with two men who you vaguely recognize as other professors at the university, talking and laughing amongst themselves with beers in their hands. You admire the profile of his strong, angular nose, the way his pronounced collarbones peeked out from the loose linen shirt he wore, the first few buttons undone to show a delicious strip of tan skin. His dark hair, usually gelled back to show his forehead, was left fluffy and untamed, framing his dark, intoxicating eyes. He jumps a little at your voice, turning away from the men to look at you.

His eyes widen sharply, moving slowly from your face down to your chest. They linger there for a moment, blinking owlishly, before he tears them away from you completely, the tips of his ears turning bright red.

“Oh, um. Hello, Miss L/N.” he covers up his stutter with a weak cough, suddenly very interested in the state of his shoes. You make a quick mental note to thank Karina later for convincing you to squeeze yourself into this stupid dress.

“Oh, this is Y/N?” One of the two other men slurs gleefully, a grin stretching across his handsome face. There was a certain hunger in the way he undresses you with his eyes, scanning you head to toe like a predator. You could tell from his flushed pink cheeks that he was very drunk. “I’ve heard all about you! It’s nice to finally put a face to the name.”

Something odd flashes in Professor Park's eyes and he jerks his head to shoot his friend a deathly glare. He was far too tipsy to notice.

“You’ve… heard about me?” you cringe, your heart sinking. Out of whatever Professor Park had to say about you, none of it could be anything good.

“Oh, not much, just that you’re one of the brightest students that he’s ever taught.” The other man cuts in, chuckling. He tips his head back and takes a swig of his beer, flashing you his sharp jawline. “One of his favorites to have in class, he says.”

“Such a smart head on those little shoulders! You should consider taking my econ course next year, it’d be a gift to see your pretty face in my class.” The first man adds, his crooked smirk widening.

“Jake, Jay, please.” Professor Park grits out through gritted teeth, anxiously running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, what did you say, Miss L/N?”

You splutter as your lips refuse to form words. You?! The brightest student he’s ever had?! That was just a complete and utter lie; if it wasn’t for Giselle helping you with an extra credit assignment you had practically begged him on your knees for, you would be failing his class spectacularly. You couldn’t fathom why Professor Park would say something like that to these two men, when nearly every class he was scolding you for being late, distracted, forgetting your deadlines, a combination of all three and more. Not only that, but with what had transpired the other day still fresh and stinging… they had to be saving face or making some kind of sick joke. As you collect your thoughts, you half expect them to start pointing and laughing.

“What are you doing here?” you repeat, peering up at Professor Park's blushing face. He avoids meeting your eyes, just like how he did in class.

“Am I not allowed to enjoy the start of my weekend?” he retorts, fiddling with the pull tab on his beer. “Clearly, you’re doing the same.”

He spits out the words like they left a bad taste in his mouth. It stung like an insult. “I thought you said you were busy.” you assert, biting your lip to keep from scoffing. The liquor giving you a little too much courage; he was still Professor Park, even if now standing in front of you he looked like just any other guy.

“I… was.” He mumbles, “And now I’m not anymore. It’s really not any of your business.”

It takes everything you have to keep from blurting out that your book really wasn’t any of his business either, but you manage to hold your tongue.

“I’m sorry, I just— Sir, I need to talk to you.”

 “There’s nothing to talk about.” He says matter-of-factly. It’s far from what you were expecting him to say.

“What do you mean?” you challenge, your annoyance starting to turn sour. “It’s about the other day.”

Professor Park continues to play dumb, though he keeps throwing sidelong glances to his coworkers. “What about it?”

“I want to apologize.” You bite hard on your lower lip. For doing nothing wrong.

Professor Park's eyes snap up to meet yours, inky dark irises wide in shock. “Y/N—”

“Apologize?” Professor Park's friend— Jake, you think— butts in, raising an eyebrow. “What happened?”

All the color leaves Professor Park's face, even the blush that was slowly trailing from his cheeks down his neck. He awkwardly clears his throat and averts his gaze, putting on a show of cupping his ear and pretending to be confused. “Sorry, I can’t hear you over all of this noise! If you have a question, I’ll be in my office tomorrow afternoon. Go on and have a good night.”

“Wait, Professor—!”

“Have a good night!”

It takes you a long time to find your way back to the bar, drunk, defeated, and stewing in your own thoughts. You’re pleasantly surprised to see that Giselle and Karina have been sat waiting for you all this time, but you don’t have it in you to feel happy or grateful as you plop yourself back onto your empty barstool. Their irritation quickly shifts to confusion and worry, both shooting you odd glances as Karina tentatively hands you another cocktail.

“Are you okay?”

“Did you get lost or something?”

You take a long sip, the disgusting sweetness and the bitter liquor overpowering your senses enough to calm your racing thoughts. “I think I’m going to go and talk to Professor Park tomorrow.” is all you say.

“If you fuck him, please put in a good word for me.” Giselle slurs drunkenly in reply. “I need to pass that fucking class.”

“You’ve been a bad girl, haven’t you, Miss L/N?” Professor Park whispers in your ear, his deep voice dripping with honeyed venom. The fabric of his dress shirt ghosts over your back, his body so close that you can feel the heat radiating off his skin. He has you trapped against his big wooden desk, bent over it obscenely with your ass in the air as you whimper and squirm. Your skirt and panties pool at your ankles, leaving your most intimate areas exposed for him to view. Your leaking pussy quivered from the icy cold air, your hole clenching desperately around nothing and aching to be filled.

“I’m sorry!” You mewl, voice wavering.

“You didn’t answer my question. What are you sorry for?” he presses, so deliciously condescending in the way he feigns ignorance, “Apologize to me properly and tell me what it was that you did.”

“I’ve been bad, sir. I was reading during your lecture, and I’m sorry—”

“Oh, you weren’t just reading.” Professor Park scoffs, straightening himself up and off your back. He rounds the desk to circle you like prey, his slow methodical steps echoing throughout the quiet of his office. They echo in your ears and strike a dizzying mix of fear and anticipation in your heart.

“I-I was reading smut and…” your face burns hotter than the sun, and you close your eyes and take a deep breath to will yourself to have the courage to admit what it was you were caught doing. “…And I was touching myself.”

“You’re going to have to be more specific than that.” He stops to stand at your side, his mere presence hovering above you enough to make you shudder. “Tell me exactly how you were touching that slutty little pussy.”

His words go straight to your core, making you squeeze your thighs together in need. Just a little friction was all you needed, and the edge of his desk granted a great opportunity… but as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t let yourself give in to desperation and grind yourself against Professor Park's desk like a dog in heat. He would notice immediately, and it would only worsen your punishment.

“I was… I was rubbing my clit through my panties.” you admit ashamedly, “Grinding against my fingers. I was going to put one inside but you… you stopped me.”

“I could see your hand up your skirt all the way from the back of the class.” Professor Park spits, his carefully controlled demeanor cracking and his wild, untamed anger boiling to the surface. “It’s like you’re trying to get the two of us caught. You’re lucky no one else was looking… or was that what you wanted? Did you want everyone to see what a slut you are?”

“N-no!” you gasp, but the idea gets you even wetter; you wanted nothing more than for everyone to know that he was much more than just your professor, that he was yours and in turn you were his. “I’m a slut j-just for you, no one else!”

“Fuck, that’s right.” he groans lowly, his voice dripping sex. He picks up a long wooden ruler off his desk, right by your head, and points the tip at the nape of your neck. It ran slowly down the curve of your spine, a ghostly barely-there touch that left a trail of fire erupt across your skin. He stops at the plush swell of your ass, gently caressing your flesh with the cold wood. “You’re all mine. My favorite little student. You just need some discipline to put you back in your place, hm? Show me what a good girl you can be and count for me.”

He rears his arm back, poised and ready to strike. You can hear the ruler whooshing through the air, sharp and fast as he swings his arm forwards—

Your eyes snap open with a gasp. Suddenly, you’re back in your bedroom, curled up safe and sound in your bed, groggy and disoriented as you slowly come back down to reality. While you dreamt about Professor Park often, never had one felt this vivid, this real. You can still feel the echoes of his touch, the phantom pain of his ruler against your asscheek haunting you like a ghost. Your panties are soaked through completely, sticky arousal pooling in the fabric and dripping down your thighs, creating a wet spot on your sheets. You toss and turn to try and go back to sleep, but it’s no use; you’re so horny you can’t think straight, can’t ignore the dull throbbing in your core.

As your hand slides under the waistband of your panties, you decide that enough is enough.

You were at your breaking point. Your life had spiraled completely out of control in the span of just two days, all because your stupid puppy-love crush of a professor had to be nosy about your reading material. He just had to find a way to humiliate you even more than he already did, didn’t he? He could’ve just given you your book back and the two of you could have gone on with your lives. He shouldn’t have even taken your book in the first place! You could have continued fantasizing about him from the back of the class, not a worry in the world, instead of losing precious hours of sleep and mentally beating yourself up.

And after your interaction at the bar, you feel even more ridiculous. If Professor Park truly had the intention of telling someone about what he had caught you reading, wouldn’t he have told the other professors that he was with? And lying to them about you being his smartest student…  you couldn’t wrap your head around it.

It was clear that he didn’t want to talk about it. But even if he wants to pretend like none of this ever happened, you just couldn’t.

There was simply no other way for you to get over all of this other than finally confronting him. You needed to make the endless spiral stop, tell him exactly what was on your mind and finally put this to bed. The longer you stew over everything that has transpired, the more your fear and anxiety boils over into anger. This was all Professor Park's fault! You needed to give him a piece of your mind, or you don’t think you’ll ever be able to move on.

Professor Park doesn’t answer until after the fifth knock, his face immediately dropping once he swings open his office door to see you standing there in front of him. His hair is a mess and his clothes are disheveled, his tie half undone and his shirt sleeves rolled up past his elbows. Anxiously he adjusts his glasses, the wide brown eyes behind them looking like a cornered deer’s. “You actually came over to apologize?” He blurts out before you can even open your mouth, genuine surprise taking over his features. “I didn’t think you—"

“Actually, no, I’m not here to apologize!” you declare, the words spilling out before you gave yourself the time to second guess yourself. You had lied awake until the sun came up thinking about what to say, and you weren’t going to let those wasted hours go to waste. “I’m here to tell you, sir, that going through my book was an invasion of my privacy! And that it’s none of your business what I read! I’m an adult, not a child, and I can do whatever I damn well please!”

Professor Park blinks owlishly, staring at you in stunned silence for so long that your newfound confidence falters and you begin to shuffle nervously.

“Oh. Um… alright.” He finally says.

“Alright?!” you echo incredulously, your irritation coming back in full swing. “You’ve been avoiding me for days and all you have to say for yourself is alright?!”

Professor Park's eyes flicker around anxiously, and it suddenly hits you that you were yelling at him in a public hallway. “I don’t know what you’re talking about—”

“Yes you do!” you shriek. This really wasn’t how you were planning on any of this going, but it was far too late to turn back. You open your mouth to continue your rant, face burning hot with unbridled rage, but Professor Park quickly grabs your wrist and roughly pulls you into his office. The sudden act shocked you into silence, your eyes wide and mouth agape as he drags you all the way back to his desk. 

“Listen.” He growls, his voice octaves deeper than you’ve ever heard it before. “You’re acting way out of line right now. Don’t you dare ever talk to me like that, you understand me? I’m still your professor, even when we’re not in class. You’re to treat me with respect—”

“Then you treat me with respect first!” you retort, though you do manage to calm yourself down enough to lower your voice. “Playing dumb and refusing to talk to me after humiliating me in front of everyone! What was even the point of doing that? Was it just for your own sick pleasure?!”

“Y/N.” Professor Park sighs, the second time you’ve ever heard him call you by your first name— the first was at the club, but you were far too distracted to dwell on it. “I know you have some sort of feelings for me. You’re not very good at hiding it.”

Your entire world comes crashing around you, though you suppose that you shouldn’t be too surprised. You had just let yourself hope beyond reason that he would never pay you any attention.

“What I’m trying to say is… Y/N, you need to stop it. Get rid of the book. I can’t be with you, it’ll never work, okay? I’m your teacher, and ten years your senior. There’s plenty of college boys around campus for you to ogle over instead.”

“You say you can’t but… do you want to?” you ask quietly, barely above a whisper.

Professor Park doesn’t meet your eyes. “I could get in a lot of trouble, Y/N. You could too.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.” You challenge, a hopeful spark igniting in your chest. He didn’t say no… and you may be looking too into things, or just clinging onto hope, but that was more than enough proof to you that your professor was hiding some feelings of his own.

“We can’t do this.” He mumbles, his voice growing wilder, more defiant.

“Sure we can! I’m an adult, you’re an adult… did I scare you away with my book or something? Look, it’s okay if it wasn’t up your alley. There’s nothing wrong with being vanilla, Professor. You don’t have to, like, spank me or anything—”

“But I do!” he interjects suddenly, his head shooting up to look at you with wild eyes. His entire face was bright crimson red.

“You… wait, what?” you must have misheard him. That was the only explanation, surely; There was no way he actually—

“I can’t stop thinking about it! I thought there was no way you’d be into anything like that, that I needed to stop thinking about you and move on like a professional, but then you go and pull this, and now I can’t go a single second without thinking about putting you over my knee! It’s driving me insane! I can’t even look at you!” 

“Professor—”

“Sunghoon. God, just call me Sunghoon. I can’t handle you calling me that right now.”

You open and close your mouth a couple of times, surely looking like a fish out of water— This was the absolute last thing you expected to come out of your professor’s— Sunghoon's—mouth. Your eyes bulge out of your head, your face burns hotter than the sun… your pussy clenches pathetically. It felt like you were in a dream, almost, which might have been why you suddenly felt so brazen— if you wanted him, and he wanted you, who were you to deny him?

“Then do it.” you say, voice barely above a whisper. He looks just as shocked at your proclamation as you were. “If you want to do it that bad, do it.”

He moves in a flash, giving you no time to prepare— within seconds has you thrown over his lap on his office swivel chair, your hair hanging in your face as you blink wildly at the floor. Sunghoon brushes one of his big hands against you skirt-clad ass, barely a brush of his fingers, but you still gasp all the same.

“Do you really want this?” He breathes, voice low, his breathing hard—the outline of his cock presses hard against your stomach through his slacks, making it considerably hard to focus on the words that came out of his mouth.

It takes you a moment, but you manage to choke out a whiny “Yes, sir, please.”

Sunghoon stutters out an uneven breath, his fingers inching down to the hem of your skirt, teasing the tops of your thighs for just a moment before pulling the fabric up to expose your ass, a noticeable wet spot present on your panties.

“So pretty…” He coos. You can feel his cock twitch against your stomach, those long knobby fingers trailing along the edge of your lacy thong. “Is it okay if I take your panties off, bunny?”

You whimper and nod your head— Sunghoon lands a gentle love-tap to the junction of your thighs with an airy chuckle. “Use your words like a good girl.”

This couldn’t be happening. You had to be dreaming, or hallucinating, or something, anything except truly living through this fantasy come to life— Boring, bland Professor Park, the biggest prude you thought you knew, was just way too good at this, at making your legs shake and your pussy throb all the while barely touching you. In just an afternoon your reality had shifted from thinking that he had to be the world’s biggest loser virgin to thinking that he was even sexier than the professor in your book.

You weren’t sure how to feel about it, but your cunt did. 

You must have stayed silent for too long, because without much warning Sunghoon lands a much harsher spank to the top of your asscheek. “Bad girl!” he admonishes, and you can hear the teasing, rotten grin in his voice “C’mon baby, use your big girl words. Tell me how much you want it.” His hot breath fans over your ear— you couldn’t hold in your moan even if you tried, the broken whine sounding weak and pathetic even to your own ears. 

“P-Please, sir… please take my panties off. Please spank me.” you whimper, your face beet red and your pussy drooling— his deft fingers stroke slowly up and down your folds, feeling the wetness seep through the cotton fabric of your panties. You bite your lip to keep from screaming.

“That’s my good girl.” You could hear your panties rip as he tears them off of you in one solid motion, the biting cold air meeting your hot soaking cunt and making both you and Sunghoon hiss. He admires the slick leaking down your thighs for a brief silent moment, deep breathy voice cooing at the way you arch into him and his touch, before he straightens back up and lands a stinging, eye watering spank deliciously close to your core. You yelp at the sting.

“That’s for being a fucking tease,” he states, soothing your reddening flesh with a soft caress of his palm. “Being so fucking sexy all the time and driving me crazy because I thought I could never have you.”

You hadn’t realized that this was confessional. Shooting him an evil smile over your shoulder, you giggle, “You could’ve just asked.”

Another spank, this time with even more force. Your hips buck with a shrill cry spilling from your open, panting mouth, your eyes watering— you had no idea Professor Park was this strong. He refuses to give you any time to prepare, never warning you when the next hit to your ass will come. “I didn’t say you could talk back to me.” He growls.

You’re on the verge of tears from the red-hot stinging in your ass, but you still giggle at his words. “You’re kinky.”

He just rolls his eyes, spanking you again, albeit a little softer. “And this one’s for being a brat. How about you start counting for me, little girl? That’s one.”

“One?! You’ve hit me four times!” Maybe you were pushing it too far, but it just came naturally to you to fight back, make him work for your submission and obedience. You relished pushing him as far as he would go; you relished losing.

Sunghoon grabs a handful of your hair and yanks hard, making you gasp loudly and your empty pussy flutter. Leaning down close to your ear, he lets out a warning growl; “I said fucking count.”

You don’t think you’ve ever been this wet in your life. Torn between bucking your hips into Professor Park's bulge and pushing back into the touch of his hand, you give a quiet, watery whimper of “One…”

The hand holding your hair lets go, your head falling limply over his knee. “That’s my girl.” He coos lowly, stroking your head.

It distracts you enough that the next harsh slap to your ass feels even more intense than any of the others before it. “T-two…”

“That’s for being so fucking disrespectful. And in front of my colleagues too, no less. It’s like you were asking for me to ruin you.” he tsks. “You need to learn to watch your mouth.”

The urge to say something smart tugs at you again, even if just to prove his point, but another spank rains down on your sore, bruising asscheeks before you can seize the opportunity.

“T-three!”

“And that’s… that’s for pushing me to put you over my lap in the first place. You couldn’t just leave it alone, could you? And now look at you, making me risk my job to teach you a lesson.” Sunghoon's voice wavers, filling with an emotion you couldn’t quite place— it was extremely difficult to focus on his words when his fingers began to trail down the curve of your ass to your sticky, quivering folds, rubbings the tip of his thumb right over your clothed core. You moan unabashedly, shifting your hips and opening your legs to give him better access to what was peeking out between your thighs.

The fifth spank never comes. He pushes two long, thick fingers between your folds, stuttering out a low moan like he was the one being touched. He starts a rough, dizzying pace almost immediately, his fingertips searching for that spongy spot inside of you. You grind your hips back against Sunghoon's fingers, a drooling mess against his slacks.

“Pr-Professor…” you whine high in your throat — you want more, want him to speed up, slow down… his touches were driving you wild. You hadn’t been touched like this ever before.

“I told you not to call me that.” He hisses, curling his fingers against your sweet spot and making you keen. “Please, call me by my name.”

“Sunghoon!” you cry out, writhing against him. You felt a passion rising within you like the hottest fire, clouding your brain. You couldn’t think of anything except of the pleasure that he gave you, couldn’t utter out anything other than his name.

“Such a slut, falling apart just on my fingers…” he chucks huskily, enamored with the filthy wet sounds your cunt made and how they echoed through the quiet office. “I’ve thought about doing this for forever, God… you’re just as beautiful as I thought you’d be.”

His thumb, wet from your arousal, comes down to rub tight, delicious circles against your sensitive, engorged clit, your strangled wail no doubt loud enough to be heard from the hallway. The building ecstasy distracts you enough for him to push in a third finger into your tight hole. The stretch burns but you love it, your hips kicking and moans growing louder and louder as he effortlessly takes you apart. 

“...Too much…!” you manage to choke out, digging your teeth into the fabric of Sunghoon's slacks to keep yourself from screaming out in bliss. You felt full to the brim, pushed closer and closer to the edge with every rough flick of your clit and thrust of his perfect talented fingers. He teases a fourth finger around your leaking, stretched out rim, the threat of it alone enough to make your eyes roll back in your head.

“Oh baby, if this is too much there’s no way you’ll be able to take my cock…” 

The tears that had been brimming in your eyes start to stream freely down your burning cheeks, choked hiccups and sobs wracking your body, but it was the most pleasurable agony you had ever been in. Your hips move with a mind of their own, bucking against Sunghoon's cock, thick and hard as a rock, only seeming to grow bigger and bigger every time you rub against it. You relish the sharp intakes of breath he takes every time you move against him. He was starting to fall apart too, you could tell, his voice sounding a lot less dominating and a lot more whiny and pathetic with each roll of his hips up into your tummy.

“I’m gonna… gonna make you cum on my fingers,” he whines low in his throat, his hand completely soaked in your arousal up to the wrist. “You gonna make a mess for me?”

His fingers dig impossibly and wonderfully hard into your sweet spot, that white-hot band of desire in your stomach winding tighter and tighter with each perfectly aimed thrust. You wail and sob, your hand reaching back to grab a tight fistful of his shirt sleeve. “I-I-m— ‘m gonna cum!”

Sunghoon's other hand, the one that had been stroking your hair, then comfortingly up and down your back, rises up to smack your ass, the sudden burst of stinging pain making you scream, and for real this time.

 “You gotta ask first, bad girl! Gotta ask for permission b-before you cum…” His voice starts to break, his hips stuttering helplessly— the feeling of his big fat cock grinding hard against you only added to the fire in your belly. 

“Can I cum? Please, sir, can I cum? I’ll be a good girl, I promise, just let me cum!” you had no control over your mouth, hardly any conscious at all— all you could focus on was the tightening in your belly, the way Sunghoon's fingers thrusted in and out of your pussy so good… you were his brainless whore, fucked dumb on his fingers. 

“Shit, go on honey, my good girl… cum all over me, make a mess!” with his permission you let yourself topple over the edge, moaning and whimpering like a whore as you soak your thighs, his hand, his shirt and slacks with your juices. You lay across his lap twitching for quite some time afterwards, your chest heaving like you had just run a marathon… you’d never come before like that in your life, not as hard or for as long. Sunghoon was with you the whole way as you come down from your high, sweet as can be as he coos praises into your hair and pats your back, kissing your head when you raised it to look over your shoulder at him.

Slowly, you realize that you no longer feel his bulge poking at your belly. You release your iron grip on his shirt to slide your hand down his chest and abdomen, all the way down to gently cup his very wet crotch. “Sir…?”

“F-fuck... sorry, baby… couldn’t help it…” he turns his head away from you to hide his glowing red face, but you can see how his blush spreads down his neck and up to the tips of his ears.

“Did you just… cum?” you ask in awe and disbelief, looking down to see a dark stain spreading across the fabric of his slacks. Sunghoon only mumbles in response, refusing to answer or turn back to look at you, his blush growing an even deeper shade of red. It was all the confirmation you needed.

Professor Park came in his pants like a virgin without you even needing to touch him. Something about that alights a blazing inferno in your core, your senses overtaken with need even though you had just had an orgasm yourself.

“I want to taste it.” You breathe out, your overwhelming desire eclipsing any rational thought and taking control of your words.

“Y-you… what?” his head snaps back to you in surprise, his eyes wide and clouded with lust as they gaze headily into yours.

“Your cum, wanna taste it, want it on my tongue…” you’ve never spoken like this to anyone, your voice not feeling like your own— the words spill out from between your lips mindlessly, desperate for more of his brain numbing pleasure as you rub him through his slacks. His cock twitches underneath your fingertips, beginning to harden again from the ministrations. “Can I please suck you off, sir?”

“Fuck.” Sunghoon moans, rough and deep in his chest, the sound shooting straight to your sensitive pussy. “Yeah you can, naughty girl, come on, get on your knees and suck my cock. Clean up my mess.”

Your entire body feels limp and weak, not wanting to cooperate with you as you slide off of his lap to the floor. It takes great effort to get yourself situated, kneeling on the floor with your unsteady hands grasping at his thick thighs. He widens his legs to give you more room to get comfortable, one of his big hands instinctively coming down to tangle in your hair as your own begin to slide up the insides of his thighs towards his straining belt buckle.

Ever so slowly and meticulously you unbuckle Sunghoon's belt, the jingling of the metal buckle as it’s casted aside like music to your ears. You pull his pants and boxers down together in one rough tug, Sunghoon canting his hips to help you guide them down his thighs. His cock springs free and slaps obscenely against his belly, smearing the light fabric of his dress shirt in his thick, viscous cum. You can’t help but stop and stare, enamored by the sheer size of it— nearly as thick as a can and twice the length of one, throbbing veins making your mouth water. Cum still leaks from his angry red tip, fat and bulbous, the entirety of his length wet and shiny down to his heavy, twitching balls and neatly trimmed pubes.

You kiss the tip with a delighted grin, the contact barely-there but enough to make him throw his head back and whimper in delight. Your tongue peeks out from between your lips to slide across his slit, earning a high-pitched needy hiss from the man above you, his long fingers tightening their grip on your hair as you lick down his dripping shaft. His thick, salty cum tastes like ambrosia on your tongue, the delicious bitterness quickly getting you drunk. You can’t stop until you lick him completely clean, and even then it’s impossible for you to pull away, the feeling of his weeping cockhead heavy on your tongue far too addicting. Greedily you suck him into your mouth, relishing in the way his girth stretches your lips before swallowing him deeper and deeper until his tip knocks against the back of your throat. You can hardly fit your hands around him, let alone your mouth, fisting what couldn’t fit down your throat as you start bobbing your head. More broken tears collect on your lashes and drip down your wet cheeks, looking utterly ruined and wanton as you gaze up from between Sunghoon's legs into his hazy, unfocused eyes.

The eye contact is too much for him— his eyes roll back in his head with a whimper and his cock twitches violently inside of your mouth, the grip he has on your hair shifting from guiding your head along his shaft to tugging you off him with a sudden and disorienting strength. He pulls you off him with a wet pop, a foamy string of saliva connecting from his shiny cockhead to your needy whimpering lips.

“I’m gonna cum again if you don’t stop,” he pants, gasping for breath, “I gotta fuck that pussy first, little girl, please. Need to feel that tight cunt squeezing around me.”

“D’you wanna cum inside?” you goad, a lustful, mischievous grin overtaking your features, “Don’t worry, Hoonie, I’m on the pill. You can fill me up if you want to.”

Your words make him visibly shake, the nickname making him whimper, what was left of his flimsy resolve crumbling right before your eyes, leaving nothing but primal hunger. “Get on the fucking desk.”

You obey immediately, hardly able to contain your excitement as you stumble to your feet and bend over Sunghoon's big oak desk, wiggling your ass in the air invitingly. Your skirt was pushed up past your hips, exposing your dripping puffy hole for his eyes to feast upon.

“So pretty…” he croons behind you, his hands caressing your hips and waist. They smooth over the exposed globes of your ass, his fingers ghosting over your sticky, quivering folds. Pretty pink skirt that compliments your flushed skin, looks so delectable running through his fingers as he grabs your asscheeks and spreads them wide. “You look so cute in pink.”

he hisses in appreciation at the sight of your dripping hole quivering, sliding a finger down between your pussy lips to circle at your engorged clit. “Holy fuck, you’re so wet,” he groans, accentuating his claim with a flick of his hand— your pussy squelches obscenely, the lewd, pornographic sound making your cheeks flush. “I can’t take it anymore, I have to be inside of you— you can take it, right doll?”

“Please!” you beg, hardly able to string together a sentence, “Please, sir, put it in, I need it so bad, need your cock—”

You’re interrupted by the feeling of his cockhead slapping against your entrance, Sunghoon running the leaky tip up and down your slit a few times just to hear your little whimper before burying himself inside to the hilt in one smooth thrust. He rams into you with a force that knocks the air out of your lungs, his long fat shaft stretching out your hole much more than you could have ever been prepared for. The burn is indescribable, overwhelming every single one of your senses in the best way, your tight gummy walls gripping his cock like a vice as the both of you struggle to adjust.

He's so deep inside of you it feels as if he’s poked through your cervix and into your womb, his big fat mushroom head snug right beneath your belly button. You’re so deliciously full that it makes your head spin, already fucked completely brainless before he had even begun to properly move.

“Does it hurt?” he asks you softly, so gentle compared to how he carved out your insides. In any other circumstance you would find it sweet that he was this concerned, but you were certain that if he didn’t start moving inside of you right then and there, you were going to die.

“More.” you croak back in response. “Give it to me.”

With a winded groan, he relents. He pulls his cock out until just the head was inside of you, giving you not a single moment to prepare before slamming back in with a force that knocks you further up on the desk. The hardwood against your cheek does nothing to muffle your loud, unabashed shriek, so he improvises by shoving two of his thick fingers past your open lips, the musky tang of your own juices filling your mouth when you suck hungrily at the digits. He set up a punishing rhythm within seconds, his hips clapping loudly and wetly against your ass while he muffles your whines and wails. His heavy balls smack against your oversensitive clit with every rough thrust, sending shockwave after shockwave of pleasure straight to your core. The desk cuts into the skin of your hips painfully, but if anything, it only adds to the burning sweetness building steadily in the pit of your belly.

“F-fuck, I’m close already!” Sunghoon puffs against the shell of your ear, pressing himself up against your back— you’re suddenly thrown back into your dream from the night before, the way the sensations were eerily similar yet nowhere near as good as the real thing. “Gonna cum inside you, is that okay? Wanna see how pretty your pussy looks dripping my cum.”

You can only drool in response, your thoughts fragmented and scattered, babbling desperate nonsense and rolling your hips back to meet his thrusts with a dizzying force. Your body vibrates with liquid fire, heating your puffy cunt and quivering thighs— faster than ever before were you hurtling towards your climax, that familiar tightening in your core growing harder and harder to bear. You wanted nothing more than to yield to the tide, let it overtake you completely, and in turn pull Sunghoon down with you.

Your professor was going to cum inside of you. The fantasies that had haunted you for months truly became a tangible reality. What did you do to make you so lucky?

“This slutty pussy’s sucking me in so fucking tight,” he groans, his thrusts growing sloppier, “Tell me you want my cum, baby, come on. Who’s cum do you want inside of you? Tell me and I’ll give it to you!”

“Yours!” you shriek with the last remaining bits of your energy, your words nearly incomprehensible to how you sniffled and sobbed around Sunghoon's fingers. “Want your cum— my professor’s cum inside of me!”

You took a gamble, but it was just what he wanted to hear. With one last aggressive thrust, he bottoms out inside of your pulsating cunt, his bulbous cockhead kissing your battered cervix as he cums with a broken cry. The sensation of his sticky, hot seed splashing against your insides is just what you need to tip over the edge yourself, your walls clamping down on him and milking him for all he’s worth as you ride out your own climax with long, surrendering moans. He hisses from the overstimulation, but he makes no movements to pull out, letting himself soften inside of you as you both struggle to catch your breaths. Thick viscous globs of your mixed cum leak out from where you’re connected, dripping down your thighs and Sunghoon's balls to collect in a puddle on the floor.

You gaze over your shoulder to watch as he slowly and carefully pulls out, a creamy, foamy white ring formed around the base of his cock. His glasses were fogged up from his heavy breathing, his hair and clothes even more a mess than it was when he had first opened the door, his pink face so irritatingly kissable when he shoots you a nervous smile.

You cant help but giggle at him.

“You’re not going to… tell anyone about this, are you?” he asks you anxiously, opening one of the desk’s drawers to retrieve a packet of tissues.

“As long as you explain to me why you told those other professors that I was your best student.” You reply smartly, your grin widening when he scowls.

“It was the only way I could think of how to explain why I talk about you so much.” He admits, a little shy, wiping down the mess between your thighs with a fistful of cheap, scratchy tissues. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d rather if we continued that charade so it doesn’t look suspicious when I ask you to come to my office every once in a while.”

“Will you give me that TA position then?”

“You technically don’t qualify,” He laughs, “but I thought that was a given.”

“You won’t regret bending the rules a little, I promise.” You tell him with a wink and a smile. The love-stricken grin he shoots back at you in return makes your heart soar.

“I know I won’t.”

[midniqhtt]

john walker

masterlist • marvel • 06/19/25

˚‧⁺ ･ ˖ · ୨ৎ recs

𑣲 change pt2 I @johns-walker

when you get injured during a job, you and john have a genuine conversation for once

𑣲 alone in this shitty world I @starktonyx

( bucky x reader) (john walker x reader) After Yelena’s sudden outburst, the group scatters around the streets of New York. And, as if this wasn’t already the weirdest day of your life, you find yourself reaching to comfort the last person you ever thought you'd feel sorry for, John Walker. And Bucky is as confused as you are.

𑣲 moral of the story I @/starktonyx

You never expected to be blindly sent to kill your ex-husband, but when you cross paths again in looping shame rooms, it’s like going through the pain all over again.

𑣲 would you still love me if i was a worm? I @/starktonyx

You hit John with a stupid question, he takes it too seriously.

𑣲 come right on me pt2 I @/starktonyx

You can't help the inappropriate thoughts that come out of your mouth during a mission, and John has to teach you a lesson, or multiple, about it.

𑣲 dating john walker hc I @aquaholicsanonymousworld

𑣲 just one bite I @endofthelinegang

john walker would love nothing more than to go to bed, really he wouldn’t but you won’t let him rest without him fulfilling your request.

𑣲 the patriot I @/endofthelinegang

𑣲 drabble I @vamplvs

𑣲 rough night? I @/vamplvs

𑣲 stitches I @/vamplvs

𑣲 bite the hand that needs you I @swordgrace

after getting injured on a mission and dismissing your help, you can’t seem to shake why john doesn’t like you. the answer is more complicated than you thought.

𑣲 a black eye and two kisses I @/swordgrace

john has a bad habit of running his mouth, especially during a sparring lesson — after taking it too far, he makes it up to you in more ways than one.

𑣲 need that I @blank-potato

You think everything he does is hot, and eventually he takes notice.

𑣲 stitches I @bruisedboys

john grudgingly patches you up after a mission — it gets more intimate than you both expect.

𑣲 thunderbolt!reader I @/bruisedboys

𑣲 honey, where is my shield? I @husbandjoel

you’re the fixer upper of weapons for the new avengers and want to do something for john walker’s upcoming birthday

𑣲 blurb - enemies to lovers I @stardustedseas

𑣲 better kisser I @alisonsfics

your boyfriend was a dick, no way around it. and john loathed him. tonight is no different when the three of you and the rest of the thunderbolts go to a hockey game. so when you and john end up on the kiss cam, john seizes his shot.

𑣲 shoulder to cry on I @/alisonsfics

john was the only one of the thunderbolts that you hadn’t bonded with above an acquaintance level. but, he was always there quietly brooding. so, when you find him crying in the middle of the night, you know you have to help him.

𑣲 under my skin I @flowersforbucky

what first begins as a series of bad luck shows you a different side of the man who normally drives you crazy.

𑣲 guilty as sin I @starrbishops

You hate how attracted you are to Walker, and you pull away from him because of it. He notices.

𑣲 problematic tower romance I @vividxpages

John liked to remind you that he was fifteen years older than you. You liked to remind him that you honestly didn't care.

[blacknedsoul-blog]

My bets on Nevermore's development

In the middle of the arc and with the White Raven divorce beginning, I think I feel comfortable betting on how all the story lines the comic has laid out so far will play out. A mixture of analysis and theories.

Duke and Montressor

I don't think Duke will die. For several reasons (one of which I'll explain below), but the main one is that Duke is a character who still has a lot to give: they've gone to the trouble of giving him a name, a past, a personality, and yet none of these things have been properly explored. The comic wouldn't really benefit from Duke dying because he still has a lot of interesting things to bring to the story.

Coupled with the fact that we're still learning how Spectres work, and with Duke unable to manifest, it's the perfect time to flesh out that part of the lore and give us a cool moment to show us his Spectre.

That said, I have a hard time seeing a way for Montressor to stay in the game once this issue is over: he's proven himself to be a menace that won't stop and an unmitigated sadist. The guy is just evil, and frankly, he didn't seem to have much more backstory or anything new to bring to the table.

My bet on him is that he'll die, maybe Lenore will go with the group in psycho-killer mode, Duke will confront him with his spectre, Morella will go against him to save Ada, Annabel will try to make merit so Lenore won't be asked for a divorce, or the Deans themselves will see him as a problem they need to take care of. If the comic thinks murder is irredeemable for its characters, maybe he'll have a Frollo-style death where it's his own ego that kills him (what if he becomes one of the creatures roaming the school?).

I think this because, besides how satisfying it would be to see him die, I think it would be a good time for the comic to show you the consequences of death within Nevermore. We know that going to the Land of the Dead is a terrible thing, but we don't know exactly what it entails. And seeing it would make any future threat seem more terrifying.

Post-Divorce

The White Raven will reconcile. This is obvious: the comic is about their relationship, the publicity for the comic has them together, and much of the appeal of the work comes from their romance. It's not a question of whether it will happen or not, but how it will happen and what the consequences will be.

Maybe some extraordinary event will happen to bring them back together, or we will have the equivalent of the Greenhouse 2.0 scene where they have a whole conversation about why, even if Lenore understands Annabel reasons, this is a situation that can never happen again.

One thing I want to point out here: I don't think Annabel did this out of jealousy. Maybe she feels it, but this story has made a consistent effort to show you that while Annabel is hypocritical, manipulative, and Machiavellian, she still has a moral compass: her reaction after when Montressor makes Ada bark and when Prospero is about to have a breakdown indicate that her limit is to hurt others gratuitously. She won't defend them if it puts her in a problematic situation, but this clearly pisses her; by that logic, it would even be out of character for her to try to hurt Duke because she's jealous, and more importantly, it would do irreparable damage to her relationship with Lenore (which is why I don't think our favorite Frenchman dies).

Understanding that, there's one thing these two haven't really talked about: for Lenore, getting her friends out of here is not something optional, she's completely determined to do it, and given this moment, it's very likely that the next step will be for Annabel to join the "save everyone" team: she thinks Lenore is capable of anything, and so she's going to put all her faith in her being able to pull this off.

Coupled with the fact that the plan to keep Lenore as a harmless figure went to hell after the incident in the tower, she's going to have to adjust things. And my theory on this is that Annabel is going to expand her rivalry plan to the group level.

I believe this because the logical conclusion after the banquet is that the Deans, for some reason, want the students to fight, to foster an atmosphere of competition among them. So far, giving them what they want has worked perfectly for them, so they would suggest that it would be helpful to pretend that things are going exactly as they think they are while they try to figure out how to get out of this place, at least until they can think of something better.

Yes, I assume Annabel will join the Misfits. She'll probably be like Zuko from Avatar, begging for forgiveness and winning them over one by one in individual arcs.

Another important development that will come out of this is that when Lenore is fed up enough with her bullshit, she will remind Annabel of her promise about how they both get their memories back: they are already right in the middle and it will be time to start putting the puzzle together.

However, I have reason to believe that Annabel will manage not to talk about the exact way they both died for a very simple reason: whether Lenore was Annabel's executioner or not, they died together. Lenore was there, and she will most likely blame herself because "if I hadn't gone looking for her, Annabel would still be alive" and for "not protecting her".

But by the time they have this conversation (or she finds out otherwise), the comic may be starting to address one of Lenore's major conflicts as a character: because of her fear of abandonment and her feeling that she is undeserving of love, she has no qualms about putting herself in danger to protect others. This is a terribly damaging perspective in the context that the Deans have created: not only is it naive to think that she can always protect her friends or Annabel from getting hurt, but Lenore unwittingly carries the feelings of the people who love her by endangering herself.

My head canon

Everything I've said so far is based on things the comic has shown and storylines that may not be explored in this specific way, but are more or less on the comic. But there's a lot of nonsense out there that I'd really like to see, even if there's little or nothing in the artwork to indicate to me that any of those things will come to fruition.

Annabel vs. Montressor

I would love to see Annabel vs. Montressor precisely because Annabel has no chance against Montressor: she has no experience in a fight, even if her spectre is a powerful one, Montressor would wipe the floor with her. But I think it would be a nice way to put a point: Annabel and Montressor are not the same.

He enjoys torturing others, she will be a villain to protect what she loves.

I can also think of two interesting things that could come out of this encounter: Lenore having her moment where she thinks Annabel is dead, parallel to the maze scene (for Lenore, Annabel is an unbeatable queen, so she could use a little reality check), and a conversation along those lines:

-L: Did you think that by putting yourself in danger like this I was going to forgive what you did?!

A: I didn't do this because I thought you would forgive me. Deep down, I know you already did, even though that doesn't mean I shouldn't face consequences for my actions.

-L: ...Then why?

-A: Because I promised you I would. I said I would distract our enemies, that I would protect you from my allies, and that's exactly what I did. I knew I couldn't handle him, but I was distracted and wounded enough to get the job done.

This would finally establish one thing that has been up in the air about Annabel: yes, she really behaves and acts like a villain. But after something like this, there would never be any doubt (for the readers or for Lenore) that she always keeps her promises.

Imagine the delicious drama that could come from establishing that so forcefully.

Eulalie is a Lennabel shipper

Come to think of it, the two of them haven't done a very good job of hiding it: we go from Lenore running all over school to take care of Annabel to watching them fight for no apparent reason.

I like to think that Eulalie seriously suspects something is going on between them, and when the Misfits inevitably find out about Annabel and Lenore's relationship, she'll be like, "Oh, you guys hadn't noticed?" while saying things like, "Oh, so you're the one who took us to the haunted mansion!"

Annabel and Berenice as unlikely friends

I love the image of Berenice physically threatening Annabel with the knife and saying something like "You're a posh bitch, but you've got style" after she doesn't react in fear. I also think Bernice would be the first to admit that while she won't easily forgive Annabel for putting Duke in danger, she wouldn't have hesitated to throw Annabel, Prospero, Ada, or Will under the bus to protect any of her group of friends if necessary.

Also, the idea of Annabel saying, "She's a violent slur. I want her around" is oddly hilarious to me.

Prospero as the ultimate "tired friend"

If Annabel takes Prospero with her, I can imagine the guy banging his head against the wall all the time because he sees all these idiots who are strangely competent when you get right down to it, but choose to spend their energy doing stupid things when no one is dying.

A terrible deal between Duke and Annabel

Remember that wonderful scene in Avatar where Katara threatens to kill Zuko if she thinks he's going to hurt Aang? I like to think that Duke and Annabel will have a scene like that:

-D: They didn't see the look on your face when they put up the wall, but I did. And I can assure you that I won't hesitate to act if I think you're going to hurt my friend or any of them, cherie.

-A: Promise?

-D: ...

-A: That you will be there to protect her no matter what, even from me. I wouldn't mind you holding the sword of Damocles over my head if it proves to me that you can protect her from any threat.

-D: You have my word.

In conclusion

So that's my bingo on how things will go in the comic from here on out. There are some things (like Morella's development, what's going to happen with Ada, or when the hell we're going to get some backstory on Will) that I don't think I have enough information on to theorize. But here it is.

[thequeerbouquiniste]

Here is a non-exhaustive list of queer fiction books coming out in March 2024. This list covers only standalones or books that are the first in a series; if you want to check out which queer series are being continued, you can check out the post that comes out tomorrow. Also, as I support the SMP boycott, there will be no SMP books on this list. (This is a marketing boycott, so if you still wish to support the authors by buying their books, please check out the march releases on your own.)

Please note that I have not checked the trigger warnings or possible problematic content/author for these books, this is merely an informative list.

SFF:

Be the Sea; Clara Ward, March 5th

The Baker & the Bard; Fern Haught, March 5th (graphic novel)

The Marble Queen; Anna Kopp, March 5th

The Poisons We Drink; Bethany Baptiste, March 5th

Song of the Huntress; Lucy Holland, March 7th

A Hunt of Blood and Iron; Cara Nox, March 12th

Monster Crush; Erin Ellie Franey, March 12th (graphic novel)

These Fragile Graces, This Fugitive Heart; Izzy Wasserstein, March 12th

Those Beyond the Wall; Micaiah Johnson, March 12th

Chrysalis and Requiem; Quinton Li, March 16th

Cascade Failure; L.M. Sagas, March 19th

The Emperor and the Endless Palace; Justinian Huang, March 26th

Horror & Gothic:

Thirst; Marina Yuszczuk, translated by Heather Cleary, March 5th

A Botanical Daughter; Noah Medlock, March 19th

The Woods All Black; Lee Mandelo, March 19th

Dead Girls Walking; Sami Ellis, March 26th

Thriller & Mystery:

Rainbow Black; Maggie Thrash, March 19th

Where Sleeping Girls Lie; Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé, March 19th

A Deadly Walk In Devon; Nicholas George, March 26th

Romance:

The No-Girlfriend Rule; Christen Randall, March 5th

Just Another Epic Love Poem; Parisa Akhbari, March 12th

Really Cute People; Markus Harwood-Jones, March 12th

Cover Story; Rachel Lacey, March 26th

Icarus; K. Ancrum, March 26th

The Boyfriend Subscription; Steven Salvatore, March 26th

Historical fiction:

Pelican Girls; Julia Malye, March 5th

The Tower; Flora Carr, March 7th

The Phoenix Bride; Natasha Siegel, March 12th

All the World Beside; Garrard Conley, March 26th

Contemporary & Literary fiction:

A Different Kind of Brave; Lee Wind, March 5th

Ellipses; Vanessa Lawrence, March 5th

Ariel Crashes a Train; Olivia A. Cole, March 12th

These Letters End in Tears; Musih Tedji Xaviere, March 12th

Like Happiness; Ursula Villarreal-Moura, March 26th

[rise-my-angel]

I'm very ship and let ship but a lot of ASOIAF shippers, especially r/l shippers just come across totally tapped in the head lol. I don't deny that Lyanna went 'willingly' with Rhaegar but....that....still doesn't make their relationship a good thing? lol. Like her being 'willing' can mean different things in the context of the story and what exactly the motivations were. We literally know next to nothing about their motivations and beliefs.

If GRRM wanted to sell a uncomplicated, 'morally pure' lmao romance, he simply would not have written Rhaegar to have a wife and two children. Like, WHY do you think he made that narrative choice? It was a very, very blatant plot choice lmao. A character literally named after said wife is currently on her way with Arianne Martell to meet said wife's presumed son with Rhaegar and will play an important part in the endgame. Like, I need shippers to ask themselves WHY GRRM would make those writing choices lmao.

I also need them to ask WHY did GRRM feel the need to have Lyanna's brother, Ned, literally have to kill Arthur Dayne, Rhaegar's BFF, and two other KG's loyal only to Rhaegar in order to get to her? Doesn't that raise red flags? like hello? lmao. I also love how they make a big to-do over Lyanna holding the blue roses in her hands. The same blue roses that are described as dead and Ned, when he takes a closer look at them sees the thorns hidden underneath the petals? lmaooo. HELLO? LMAO.

Look, I think GRRM has very weird and problematic ideas when it comes to consent and underage girls in relationships with older men, so I'm not holding my breathe for any lack of romanticization here, but like come on lmao.

I will respectfully disagree on her going willingly, because I don't at all think she did.

But there is so much wrong with what happened. Lyanna was dying in a bed of her own blood. The blue roses were not romantic, they are almost acting as a smokescreen. Winter roses are something Lyanna likes, so give it to her, while we force her to lay dying in a bed of her own blood and not attempt bringing or getting her to help. It's to pretend everything is fine when in reality Lyanna is more trapped then ever and is now afraid she is going to die alone.

The shippers have given no reasonable explanation as to why she was left dying in bed of her own blood. Why if it was love, did the Kingsguard not have orders to do everything they could to save her. Why was she to be so kept hidden in that tower that not even her brother could see her when she was about to die, if she was there willingly. Why if she was willing did she desperately scream "Eddard-" that it could be heard all the way on the ground outside.

Why would her not wanting to marry Robert, make her want to run away from her brothers which she loves dearly and not even attempt to leave to go home when she learned Rhaegars father brutally murdered her father and eldest brother?

The truth is you will rarely see well constructed arguments that are consistent between these shippers, because they are all grasping at straws desperate to make all of this make sense. Either Lyanna wasn't willing and it ruins their love story narrative, or she was willing through all of this and the version of Lyanna they are defending is a sociopath.

They have painted the idea Lyanna was a willing participant so heavily in their mind that they engage in disagreeing opinions as if we are attacking them as people on a personal level.

They have the right to ship it, I have the right to analyze why I think Rhaegar raped her.

But I have been called crazy, stupid, dumb, retarded, and delusional for what I think are very well thought out constructed arguments against this ship on my own personal blog.

They have the right to ship it, but I have the right to hate them.

I will say though while yes, some of grrms ideas have not aged well, some of this was a result of the first 3 books being written in the 90s. Rape, consent, and discussions around the ages of consent were not looked at in the same scrutinizing manner they are today.

But it does mean we have to do our due diligence and look past orginal author intent and engage with the content in a more fair manner.

It's why I enjoy deconstructing the Rhaelya narrative. I like seeing past the stock excuse of it being a non conventional relationship and analyze what that means and the negative implications defending it are causing.

[lcftyambiticns]

♔ ❛ 𝑰nd. &. private 25+ 𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐃𝐔𝐑'𝐒 𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐄 roleplay blog for ℒORROAKAN ; self-appointed MASTER OF RAMAZITH'S TOWER &. ARCHMAGE of Baldur's Gate. TRIGGER WARNING for dark / adult content. SECONDARY MUSE: Rolan ( on request only! )

MEMES | HEADCANONS | GALLERY | VERSES

RULES AND MUSE INFO: UNDER THE CUT.

STORIES: ✍︎ ℳEMORIES.

RULES.

GNEREAL

25+ ONLY. This blog is written by an adult for other adults, so please act accordingly.

I'm careful about how I curate my online space. The block button and I are besties. Muns who engange in OOC drama, OOC bigotry and LGBTQA+ phobia of any kind, callout posts, OOC political discourse will be blocked on sight. I also tend to steer clear of writers who have lots of DNIs or triggers.

This blog is anti-censorship. Fiction =/= reality. If you don't like someone's content, block them. Protecting your online space is a mature thing to do, and I promise I'll 100% support that. What's NOT okay is trying to police adults on what to write on their blogs (go touch some grass).

DEAD DOVE FRIENDLY. I love angst and exploring dark content!! If you have any triggers, let me know. Triggers you may encounter on this blog: violence, murder, abuse, gore, monsters, gaslighting, manipulation, cults, canon-typical fantasy racism and overall offensive / problematic themes. Triggers won't always be tagged. Major triggers will be tagged as tw: trigger. If you're triggered by any of the themes mentioned above, this blog isn't for you. While we don't have to write any of them out, they are present on this blog.

Communication is key! <3 Writing is so much more fun if the muns get along. I promise, I don't bite!!

INTERACTION

This is a private blog simply because I can't spread myself too thin. I'm particularly selective when it comes to mumu-blogs featuring muses from fandoms outside the DnD / BG3 verse. If I follow you, I have read your rules and want to interact! Don't be shy <3 I will also assume that if you follow me back, you're fine with me sending you memes / tagging you in starters / sliding into your IMs to plot.

Personals are welcome to follow, but no touchy my RP stuff.

Formatting: For accessibility reasons, I won't follow if you use spaced out words and punctuation, all caps or all lowercase (for entire paragraphs).

MEMES. YES! If you want to continue a meme, go right ahead!

Plotting: Hmu with a plot idea anytime! I'm not a fan of plotting out every detail, but Lorroakan is a particularly uncooperative muse. Having a general idea of where we want this to go really helps to keep the ball rolling, even if we end up going in a different direction!

SHIPPING / RELATIONSHIPS

This blog is multiship, male lean. Fair warning; Lorroakan isn't particularly interested in romance or sex, and he's a prick. I'm open to shipping, BUT ships will most likely be toxic / one-sided, particularly with Rolan (with the potential to develop into something wholesome over time!), and slow burn. By slow I mean glacial. In most cases, at least.

Pre-established relationships: Yes. While first meeting or "they have been business partners" threads can be fun, they often take a while to get juicy, or they end up fizzling out. What if your muse was Lorroakan's childhood bestie? Another (former?) apprentice? A fellow scholar of the arcane he used to work with? An ex?

MUN NOTES

Mun =/= Muse, I obviously don't condone any of Lorroakan's bs IRL. While I will absolutely respect your boundaries OOC (if you talk to me beforehand about them, pretty please with a cherry on top), I won't water him down.

I have the memory of a soggy pickle. If you don't want me to interact with you, hard-block.

Activity: Sometimes I'll reply super fast, sometimes it takes me ages, and sometimes I can only focus on specific threads / muses.

Discord is available for moots I interact with frequently.

They / Them, hatched 1995, dog parent, hyperfixating on problematic villains, D&D player.

𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄

GENERAL Lorroakan is in his mid-late 30s, fairly young considering his achievements (mostly obtained through deceitful methods).

He presents himself as the great archmage of Baldur's Gate, but while he is a compentent wizard and keen enchanter, he is nowhere near as powerful as he claims to be.

Lorroakan laid claim to Ramazith Tower after its previous owner mysteriously disappearend, and he refuses to share the knowledge it holds (at least for free).

He is originally from Athkatla, one of the wealthiest cities in Faerun, but he grew up in the shadows of its splendor. His family (mother, father, two sisters, four brothers) could barely make ends meet, but Lorroakan has always been ambitious and harbored dreams of one day being just as wealthy and powerful as the elite of the Gem District. The practice or use of arcane magic is explicitly illegal within the city of Athkatla, but that didn't stop him; he practiced in secret whenever he could get his hands on a spellbook.

PERSONALITY IN A NUTSHELL . . . as interpreted by the mun ; Ambitious, diligent, intelligent, clever, creative ; selfish, arrogant, manipulative, power-hungry, petty, vain.

He has a superiority complex ; he is vain, has an overly high opinion of himself, makes boastful claims that aren't backed up by reality, has a habit of putting down those who outshine him.

(The way I see it) Lorroakan isn't a straight up villain. However, his ambitions and narcissistic nature drive him to commit morally questionable, and at times, outright despicable acts.

CHARACTER STUDIES / RELEVANT HEADCANONS: bad money habits more about his past & why he is how he is

Shippy HCs CONs of being his lover PROs of being his lover NSFW headcanons

[unstable-reality]

Janos City Blues - Chapter One

Hello there! :) This is the first chapter in what I expect to be a lengthy RebelCaptain piece, featuring an off-schedule revolution, intrigue, Bothans, and slow burn romance.

Here's the setup: Jyn and Cassian have been sent to Janos City to disrupt the already-troubled Lant Mining Corporation's operations, and to help a group of on-the-ground agents foment insurrection. Revolutions, however, cannot be controlled...

As a heads up, this piece is going to be very class-forward. The mission itself is also ethically problematic (as the Alliance can sometimes be), which I'm going to do my best to tackle appropriately. The M rating is "just in case." And Bodhi will definitely be making an appearance. :)

All right, I think that covers it! Without further adieu...

The ship’s air was still and stagnant, and her feet clung to the memory of the engine’s hum. They’d been traveling for nearly two days. Time enough to absorb the rhythms of the ship, to get inured to the rush of stars, to sit and to think and to long for solid ground. She looked up. Through the porthole to her left, she could see planetside sights: the dance of aircraft, a layer of clouds, the spire of a tower, ringed by red lights. Should’ve been a relief, that they were about to disembark. She wasn’t nervous. Well, maybe she was, but she’d never call it that. Cassian stood a pace back from the hatch, half one ahead of her, his suitcase - sleek, square, modern, the sort that came with a matching set - hanging stiffly from his hand. She took in the whole of him, and frowned. “Soften your aureks.” Cassian stopped short. “What?” It had taken Jyn until now to put words to it. He hadn’t asked her for help, per se, but early on, he’d mentioned he hadn’t used his Coruscanti accent in a while, and then had stopped using his own voice altogether. It didn’t take a genius to read between the lines. “Your aureks,” she said. “They’re a little hard.” He regarded her for a moment, long enough for her to doubt. At length, he nodded, smiled slightly. “Thank you.” Decently said, accent-wise. ��Sure.” There were implications to him valuing her input on this, some more significant than others. She ignored them.

[Continue reading on AO3]

[emblemxeno]

People are still hung up on calling Fates a "incest simulator"? First off, cousins wedding is legal, not only in Japan, but in many other countries. Second, Japan as this rather strict view of family being only blood related (quite ironic seeing Engage's theme) so if you go ask the japanese fans of Fates, for them there is a total of 0 incest. It's even because of that you can marry the Royals, for the love of Naga

I won't fault people for their own perspective on things cuz we're all from different places, but at some point this shit needs to be let go. I am exhausted of being called a freak just for liking a certain game in this damn series. Never mind the fact that Corrin and the royal sibs don't have a normal family relationship to be compromised in the first place, never mind the fact that there's a series history of incestuous subtext, never mind the fact that the games never force you to marry one of the siblings, etc.

The fact that Fates is just a little weirder and more brazen than normal is what has people in a huff, as if FE was this pure, wholesome franchise beforehand. Keep in mind that the most acclaimed game in the series lets you play as a teacher where you can marry/romance students, and there's more of an active push to do so than Fates does with the siblings since the students are the only ones who get a Goddess Tower event. But it's justified since "oh we're all the same age, it's fine."

Hardly anyone who talks shit about Fates has a genuine dislike for these problematic aspects that goes beyond personal disgust, and not only does that results in needless harassment, it's actively harmful to awareness of media that perpetuates and profits off of terrible shit.

[vividxpages]

I finished writing my age gap fic for John Walker and I can't wait to upload it tomorrow evening (CET time) 💗

[novelmonger]

Faramir x Éowyn, Fëanor x Nerdanel, Anakin x Padmé for the ship ask game?

(those are all canon couples, but I assume that's what you're mostly asking for?)

(Feel free to ask about any ships, but it's true that canon ones are most likely to be ones that I ship ^^')

Farawyn - Ship It

What made you ship it?

Then the heart of Eowyn changed, or else at last she understood it. And suddenly her winter passed, and the sun shone on her. 'I stand in Minas Anor, the Tower of the Sun,' she said; 'and behold! the Shadow has departed! I will be a shieldmaiden no longer, nor vie with the great Riders, nor take joy only in the songs of slaying. I will be a healer, and love all things that grow and are not barren.' And again she looked at Faramir. 'No longer do I desire to be a queen,' she said. Then Faramir laughed merrily. 'That is well,' he said; 'for I am not a king.'

2. What are your favorite things about the ship?

A love that heals. The way Eowyn turns from despair and her hopeless infatuation with Aragorn (or rather, the life that she might have with Aragorn), and instead of longing for glory and death in battle, she sees a future full of light and hope and growing things, a future where she settles down in a garden with a man who is not and never will be a king. The way Faramir looks on her, understands her, and is touched by her despair, rather than turning away from it.

3. Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

Hmm...I don't think so? Farawyn seems to be a pretty popular ship, at least in my circles. Maybe my unpopular opinion is that I ship it, but I'm not feral about it XD

Fëanor x Nerdanel - I ship it,

but I have literally no thoughts about them, sorry ^^' Other than that Feanor is a jerk and Nerdanel deserves better (because just about everyone deserves better than Feanor). I ship it because it's canon (and obviously it must have been a functional marriage, see: seven sons), but I don't, like...have strong feelings about it. (Does that go against the definition of "shipping"?)

Anidala - Ship It

What made you ship it?

This is another case of me mostly shipping it just because it's canon ^^' While I find a lot of their interactions kind of cringey in the movies (more due to the writing than anything else), I've found that they can be very sweet and wholesome in fanfiction. So the moral of the story, I guess, is that these characters work really well together in the right hands, and I'm more or less excited about shipping them depending on who's in charge.

2. What are your favorite things about the ship?

What Baby Novie couldn't see, back when the prequel trilogy was first coming out and she was too busy gagging over just about every romance she came across, was that Anakin and Padme are actually very well suited to each other. Yes, they end up in a very problematic place, but that's exacerbated by Palpatine's influence. I guess we'll never know for sure what would have happened without that, but it would at least have given them more breathing room to actually work through their problems with communication, Anakin's fears of losing those important to him, etc.

All that's to say, when the Dark Side isn't mucking things up, they make a very good team, bringing very different insights and experiences to the table as well as a lot of compassion and support for each other. I think that's sweet.

3. Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

...I've been wracking my brains, and I honestly can't think of any. I don't have a whole lot of opinions on them to start with, and most of those are fairly generic.

[oraclekleo]

🌻 - my application for competition 🤩

I am quite satisfied with the result (since I know TXT and I like Yeonjun), but also suprised he won this The Hottest Voting 😬 (no offence to him, haha).

About me: ESTJ, Pisces sun, Virgo moon and Aries Mars are placements I like in myself the most. I was born in Dragon Year. My friend told me I have green aura. Soft, feminine aesthetic with character.

I already said about what kind of villain I see you as, so I will talk about my impression about your blog. I am not even a year on Tumblr, but I had impression you were here for years, taking into account the amount of readings you have done (so i was suprised when you told me how long you are here). I like how organized your Masterlist is. It's so satysfing to me.

I also really like your stickers. It became so characteristic thing of yours and gave me a feeling I know you better this way. I am impressed by your comunication style - it's very clear and warm. I get impression that you are a person that knows themselves very well and know where their boundaries are.

I wish life can be interesting for both of us.

Thank you! I’m glad my blog seems organised and clear. Honestly, I don’t really know myself that much, I guess I’m still trying to get to know myself better but yes, having boundaries is a basic thing to be happy in life. People will make you feel pretty awful unless you have boundaries to keep them in their place. 

Let’s get to your compatibility reading with Yeonjun now!

@saintfool + Yeonjun (TXT) Compatibility Reading

Cards: Female King of Wands, Page of Cups, VII The Chariot (Tarot of Mystic Moments), Ace of Pentacles, XVI The Tower, Ace of Swords (The Light Seer’s Tarot), Trickery (Chakra Wisdom Oracle), Security (Sacred Destiny Oracle)

Your relationship with Yeonjun might be a turbulent one. It’s interesting I see two squirrels in your cards. It’s possible you try to trick or cheat one another in the relationship, both sort of trying to have the upper hand.

While it might sound problematic at first, it’s likely to feed the seeds of your creativity, in both of you. Being constantly alerted about the other might bring deeper awareness in the long run.

I think you are both pretty independent of each other, like your egos are preventing you from asking your partner for help or advice because you don’t want to look stupid. You want to figure everything out on your own but that can actually lead to unnecessary troubles. The cards speak about learning how to ask for help when it’s needed.

While there is a lot going on in your hypothetical relationship with Yeonjun, it would probably be a stable one. You might enjoy getting lazy together, chill after a long day. I see no signs of romance here, though. You would probably stay friends.

Thank you for reading!

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[jazzmckay]

today, i finished playing dragon age: origins for the very first time :> it turns out, ive played this series completely in reverse! i did try dao years ago before i picked up dai, but it kept crashing my computer and i gave up. and now, finally... all this time later... i got to play it!

my warden: yenna tabris

she's a rogue, and i did archery more than 2-handed, but dabbled plenty in both. had a good time with the combat style. i romanced zevran. i already loved him based on other game appearances, fanfic etc. but i fell even more in love with him. my main party was alistair, zevran, and wynne, or shale, zevran, and wynne. i really enjoyed getting to know all the companions properly, though, and wish i could have switched it up more. i simply cannot survive without wynne's heals and have a hard time keeping my warriors on their feet, other than shale. ah well

i'm officially on team loghain as a problematic fave. a BUNCH of characters really surprised me with how much i got into them. anora i did expect to enjoy, but not get feral over. i understand morrigan a lot better now. i liked wynne more than i expected to. and oghren stole the damn show. oghren defense squad. this series has so many fascinating, complex characters.

summary of my choices

killed that prick vaughan. city elf origin is brutal and set a whole tone for yenna being perfectly prepared to solve problems with violence when she thinks the situation calls for it

went to redcliffe first, post-lothering. i let jowan use isolde's blood to save connor. if i'd known there wasn't an invisible time limit, i would have gone to the circle so no one had to die, but it seemed like a situation better resolved fast. in my defense, i've played the first two fallout games, which have time-based game overs and i got my whole crew killed in my first mass effect 2 playthrough because i didn't go into the endgame fast enough. i have video game trauma around hidden time limits, okay? that said, i don't regret my choice. i got to play as morrigan confronting the demon in the fade, and it created interesting tension with alistair

circle tower next. sided with the mages, if it can really be called that. it didn't feel like much of a big, dichotomous decision to me, just doing the best that can be done for everyone. zevran's nightmare made me want to hug him. i am one of those weird fade-enjoyers, for the record. i liked it the first time around, as this was the only post-lothering main quest i got to, and i liked it even more on round two

the dalish! very interesting area and storyline. i got lost and confused a lot during this part but i still had a good time, even when it felt like i was running back and forth and in circles sometimes. i got the "best" ending of curse lifted, everyone else alive. it was a really lovely, bittersweet story. the lady of the forest is hot. would

orzammar was also a very cool area. it felt so big. i sided with bhelen while feeling like i didnt know nearly enough about either king candidates to be making such a huge decision. he's a character i expected to not like based on what i've heard though and ended up liking him just fine. we'll see if that changes when i try the dwarf noble origin. i destroyed the anvil of the void. branka is a really fascinating character; i might end up writing meta about her if i can gather the spoons

everything in denerim once you gather for the landsmeet is SO FUN. sometimes fucked up, but that's all good with me. rescue mission for anora while not knowing if she can be trusted yet... getting tossed in a cell with alistair, both of us in only our underwear, smh. zevran and wynne to the rescue! i plan to reload a save and go over more of the combos for who can rescue you, theyre so good. and then everything in the alienage... as if the origin isn't bad enough. when will the denerim alienage catch a damn break? this was one of the points of the game when yenna was at her angriest. her temper has a short fuse normally, and on that day, it had no fuse at all

and the landsmeet. i admit i had to make the choice to reload after my first try. i was trying to make choices my character would make, even if they have consequences, and enjoy whichever story i got, but the first time around, my impulse decision-making led to the worst ending for alistair which i find way too tragic and upsetting. couldn't let that stand. original choices were: yenna 1v1'd loghain -> yenna accepted loghain's surrender and agreed to making him a warden -> alistair, who wasn't hardened, refused to stay with the wardens or marry anora -> yenna chose solo queen anora over solo king alistair -> alistair had to leave. ouch! second time around, i did execute loghain, so alistair and anora married, even if he was Not happy about it

i have soooo many feelings about all the possible outcomes and how it impacts the relationship between the warden, alistair, anora, and loghain. i couldn't go with alistair's life being ruined but so many of the other options are incredibly full of angsty tension and interesting dynamics

i had morrigan and alistair make a god baby. at this point, yenna is feeling pretty fucking bad about asking SO much of alistair

the ending of the game is actually incredible. getting to have pre-battle moments with all the companions, getting at least one section of the WHOLE party fighting side by side, amazing. this is something i find lacking in dai. both dao and da2 reward you for recruiting everyone, keeping everyone, and making additional allies for the final fight, and i adore that. i wish i could have had a full-party moment in dai too. the whole battle was intense and fun, and satisfying. great build up and payoff. its hard to stick a good landing in video games like this, and dao has one of the best, i think! on par with mass effect 2, which i think had the best final fight of that trilogy. oghren's pre-battle "goodbye" made me tear up

alistair made yenna chancellor which i was not expecting! it's fun to imagine her, alistair, and anora trying to get along in discussions :3 ultimately, though, yenna said she would focus on driving the darkspawn back entirely. she didn't choose this life, and didn't appreciate it for a good while, but she managed to do what it takes, and she did not go through all that just for pockets of darkspawn to keep being trouble. but zevran will be with her the whole way :D

i had a rly good time with it! faced some crashes and instability at first, but it seemed to stop entirely after a certain point, possibly when i turned the settings down, so it wasn't too bad. im so happy i got to play this, and im looking forward to the awakening dlc! <3

bonus, from liveblogging to friends on discord, re: oghren:

[vee-reading-chair]

i read or started reading a lot of books this past month. most of the time i can only read 2 books per month, but i’m always reading around 5 books at a time because mood reading is superior

READ

Legends and Lattes by Travis Baldree

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️.5

honestly, such a good book. it did take me a bit to get engaged in it, but that was mostly because of my own personal situation at the time. i just didn’t have the mental energy to pay attention. but holy shit i’m so happy we chose this for book club, it was such a good start. it is low stakes in terms of the world outcomes, but the shop is so beloved by all the characters that it’s high stakes for them. loved seeing all the characters interact and build a community together

An Heir Comes to Rise by Chloe C Peñaranda

⭐️⭐️⭐️

this was a quick read, and i will be reading the other books in the series (you will learn this about me: once i start a series, by god am i going to finish it). there were a couple scenes where it felt like the author was rushing through things in order to jump to the more interesting scenes later, but it was still pretty good! i’m excited to see how the writing improves and how the story goes in the rest of the series.

Queen of Shadows by Sarah J Maas

⭐️⭐️⭐️ .75

so hey. i am not an sjm girlie. i got these books from lifeline for like $3 each, none of my money went to her personally (i don’t think i have to explain all the problematic shit she’s done). but, see the point in my review above: i started, so i’m finishing. also, i’m reading so my friends don’t have to. anyway, it’s really fun reading the book and pretending that all the characters are a little queer, until she writes unnecessary Straight™️ romance. as an aroace person, it does nothing for me, but i can recognise that it does stuff for others. i think most of my problems with this book come from my own delusions about how the characters are interacting (*cough cough* me fully believing chaol and celaena were platonic best friends in ToG and then getting whiplash when they’re dating in CoM).

i did enjoy the ‘fuck abusers’ aspect of the character’s stories, and i did enjoy seeing all the storylines set up in the previous book interconnecting in this one. i will be doing the tandem read for the next two books because i hate myself :)

READING

Before the coffee gets cold by Toshikazu Kawaguchi

only started it a couple days ago, reading it on the train to uni because it’s small and easier to carry around

The Subtle Knife by Philip Pullman

golden compass was so good, and i’m excited to read this one

The Golden Tower by Holly Black and Cassandra Clare

i am going to finish this series 🫡 but also it’s been months since i read the last book and can only half remember it. oh well lmao

[maimaiapologist]

CYBERPUNK 2077 2023 FANDOM DRAMA PREDICTIONS

(these are all for fun so please don't get angry with me thx)

someone makes a post celebrating the 2023 arasaka tower bombing and getting accused of condoning irl terrorism for it

v plagiarism allegations because two vs had the same (vanilla) hair color

someone gets caught using stolen and uncredited art for their modded v's tattoos

someone manages to mod catgirls into the game under the guise of them being exotics from the og TTRPG

ai art gets entered into one of the official vp contests, wins, and a shitstorm ensues

takemura finally becomes romanceable in phantom liberty but at what cost (his character arc gets butchered)

is owning in-game a pet iguana problematic since iguanas are (almost) extinct in the cbp77 universe and you're basically keeping a wild exotic animal as a pet for your own amusement?

more phantom liberty related drama

yet another instance of someone being unnecessarily edgy and rude because other people happen to ship their vs with the same tertiary npc that shows up for 0.5% of the game (iykyk)

and said person then proceeding to somehow claim that character as their own. it's hard to explain but basically this image:

[hobeemin]

of bane & roses

genre: smut, pwp, romance, supernatural au, hybrid au

pairing: werewolf!jeon jungkook x nurse!(f) oc

rating: 18+

warning(s): swearing, violence, biting, scratching, fighting, blood, scars, injuries, pining, knotting, praise kink, scenting, masturbation, clit spanking, pussy/cock worship, begging, exhibitionism, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, unprotected sex, penetrative sex

word count: 7.2k

credits: a HUGE thank you to @joyfulhopelox​! Thank you Maria for looking this over and giving me great feedback 💜💜💜

resources for banner found here ~ 1, 2, 3

a/n:

Pleasure Hollows⁂ Hosted by: Professor Kat through @bangtansorciere

⤐ AU Type: coven (roommates to lovers au)

⤐ Themes: werewolves/hybrids, mutual pining

⤐ Kinks: knotting, praise kink, scenting, masturbation, clit spanking, pussy/cock worship, begging, exhibitionism 

“Damn it!”

“Language.”

Big doe-like eyes shot her a pouty look but were ignored as she busied herself blotting the disinfectant on the laceration on his arm. He was covered in cuts and bruises, but at first glance, this happened to be the worst of it.

“You’re lucky this wasn’t any deeper otherwise you would have needed stitches,” she scolded.

He winced, looking away, trying to make light of the situation. “It’s not that bad.”

“Oh really?” She shot him a look that wiped the smirk off his face. “Do we need to go over the other injuries you’ve sustained?”

“No,” he muttered, and his cheeks reddened. 

“That’s what I thought.”

She swiped some antibacterial ointment over the wound, covered it with gauze, and wrapped it with adhesive tape. “Alright, I’m done.”

A smile spread on his face. “Thanks, Devon.”

“You’re welcome, Jungkook, yet again,” she answered flatly.

He frowned, rubbing the back of his head. “Ouch. Harsh.”

Devon snorted as she put her supplies back in the medical bag. “You need it, Kook. How many times have I patched you up with no explanation?”

“I told you I–”

“Yeah yeah. I’m over the excuses,” she interrupted, rising from her seat. She played with the necklace around her neck to distract herself. Guilt immediately took over as she glanced back at him. Even though he towered over her by at least six inches, he seemed so small right now. She huffed and turned to face him, noticing the bruise near his temple. She brushed back his bangs assessing it.

“Does it hurt?”

“Not really,” he answered.

Devon clicked her tongue. She pressed around the bruise until he made what sounded like a whine. “You could have a concussion.”

He pushed her hand away as he curled up on the couch. “I’m fine. Nothing that some sleep won’t cure.”

Devon narrowed her eyes as he started to yawn. She rolled her eyes and stormed off to her room.

“Fine. See if I care,” she grumbled, slamming the door behind her. 

This was not the way she wanted to end the evening. It seemed like no matter what, Jungkook caused her more stress. She was already dealing with enough at the hospital. Still annoyed, she took off her scrubs and walked into the adjoining bathroom. As Devon stepped into the shower, her mind wandered back to her problematic roommate. 

He’s given her nothing but stress, since day one.

---

“I can’t believe the night we had! What is it with full moons? All the crazies come out.”

Devon glanced at her co-worker, adjusting her bag as they walked out of the hospital. She waved to the security guard as they headed to the parking lot. “Hobi, it wasn’t that bad.”

He let out a short laugh shaking his head. “Did we work the same shift? I’m pretty sure those patients from that fire at that frat house say otherwise.”

Devon sighed as she fished her keys out. “Good point. It got to a certain moment when everything meshed for me.”

“Lucky you,” Hobi muttered as they walked on. They reached her car, and he leaned against her hood, yawning with a stretch. “I plan to pass out for the next few days. After doing four back-to-back 12s, I’m dead.”

Devon chuckled. “Lucky you, I got one more shift on Saturday. I shouldn’t have switched with Jimin.”

Hobi snorted, giving her a poke. “Your fault. But look at it this way, at least he stopped hitting on you–”

Devon held her hand out, looking into the darkness. She frowned, stepping forward. “You hear that, Hobi?”

A groan cut into the darkness, and he pointed in the direction. “I think it’s coming from over there.”

They ran over, listening for any more sounds to pinpoint the location. Devon looked around the cars until she saw a hand on the ground. “Hoseok! Over here!”

He ran over to see her kneeling by a man leaning on the fence. Devon shook his leg gently. “Sir? Sir, are you okay? Do you need any help?”

Hobi glanced over the injured man. “He looks pretty beat up, Devon.”

She could see the numerous cuts and bruises littered all over his face and hands—barefoot and torn clothing.

“You think it was a mugging?”

“Maybe,” she answered. She noticed him holding his side. He was still out of it, breathing erratically. She lifted his jacket and her eyes widened.

“Oh shit.”

“What?”

She pointed at his side. Blood seeped from deep gashes along his chest. “Fuck. We need to get him to the hospital.”

“N-No hospitals.”

They jumped as the male finally spoke. It was barely above a whisper but his voice rang clear. To their surprise, he tried to stand only for Hoseok to push him back down. “Bad idea, man. You’re seriously injured. We can’t have you moving around on your own. We need to get you checked out and call the cops–”

“No!” His eyes opened as he wiggled out from under Hoseok’s hand. “No!”

Devon’s lips pursed as she poked the man in the arm. “We’re trying to help you! We’re both nurses at that hospital.”

He shook his head again. “No!” He winced as a surge of pain went through him and fell back against the fence post. 

She clicked her tongue in annoyance. “Your ribs could be broken. Let us help you.”

Hobi sighed as he made eye contact with her. “We can’t force anyone for medical health.”

“I-I know,” she bit her bottom lip. An idea popped into her head. She had a feeling Hobi would hate, but it was worth a shot. “How about I take him home?”

“Have you lost your mind?!”

Yep. Hobi hated the idea.

Devon gave him her infamous puppy dog eyes as Hobi tried to fight it off. The next thing he knew, he was helping her carry the man to her car. Mumbling angrily, he pushed him into the backseat with a grunt. “You owe me bigtime, Devon.”

“I have a feeling you’re not gonna let me live this down.”

“Ya think?”

She exhaled and poked her head into the backseat. The man’s breathing was still irregular, but his eyes were open. “I’m taking you back to my place to fix you up. Can you tell me your name?”

He lifted his head as he shifted his position. “J-Jeon Jungkook.”

Devon smiled for the first time that night. “Nice to meet you, Jeon Jungkook. I’m Devon Lewis.”

---

After that fateful day, Jungkook would seek out Devon whenever he had any injuries. True to her word, she never reported anything to the hospital or the authorities. He was an MMA fighter, insisting they were rough fights. As repayment, he would help do odd jobs around her apartment, until he eventually moved in. He was quiet, minus those random nights of his tournaments, and that suited her just fine.

She grumbled to herself, putting on a long nightshirt and her bonnet, and climbed into bed after the well-deserved shower. Nothing but stress. He was going to be the death of her. She shook her head in disappointment and snuggled into her covers.

“Fucking Jeon Jungkook.”

The smell of bacon and eggs invaded her nostrils and roused herself awake. Rubbing her eyes, she slipped out of bed putting on her slippers and walked into the living room. To her surprise, Jungkook was in the kitchen...cooking.

He hummed to himself as he flipped the bacon in the skillet. He turned to put it on the plate when he saw her standing by the counter. Jungkook grinned, giving her his famous bunny smile.

“Morning, Dee!”

She frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. “You seem chipper today.”

He nodded with a hum as he fixed her a plate and slid it across the counter towards her. “I feel great. Thanks again.”

She grunted and sank into the chair, grabbing a fork and stabbing at the eggs. He joined her moments later, setting a large mug of coffee down near her. He winked before he started shoveling food into his mouth. Devon’s lips thinned as she stared at the food on her plate. With a huff, she threw her fork down.

“Damn it, Jungkook!”

He dropped his fork in surprise. “What’s wrong?”

She rounded on him, glaring. “How can you be so blasé about everything?! You almost died last night!”

His shoulders dropped as he looked down at his hand, studying the dark lines etched into his skin. “Why are you making it a big deal? I’m fine. See–” he pointed to the bruise that was on his head. It was faded. Yet again, the notion of his injuries healing so fast left Devon stumped.

“I told you I got strong antibodies. I heal fast. Always have.”

“I don't want anything to happen to you,” she muttered.

Jungkook reached over and squeezed her hand. “I promise I’m alright.” He scooted closer and nuzzled against her hair making her roll her eyes. “You’re my guardian angel Devon – always have been.”

That still didn’t seem to calm her mood. Jungkook continued to eat in silence, oblivious to the looks Devon shot him. She worried about him more than she let on. These MMA fights were getting out of hand. 

What if he comes back with serious injuries and I can’t help him?

She shook the feeling away, deciding she’d at least eat the breakfast he made. A rare occurrence indeed. Maybe he was trying to get on her good side. It was working. She was pretty shocked to see how well he did with cooking. Didn’t taste bad at all. Jungkook stretched his limbs and patted his stomach.

“Ah, I’m full.”

Devon’s eye zoomed down while Jungkook stretched. His shirt lifted, showing off the well-toned muscle definition.

Damn.

She looked away as the heat bloomed from her cheeks. “Heading out?”

“Yeah, gonna go to the gym for a bit.”

“I’ll clean up. Go on and do your workout.”

He picked his plate, set it in the sink, and ran over to Devon, engulfing her in his arms. He kissed her forehead with a smile. “You’re the best, Dee. I’ll see you later!”

Devon didn’t have time to say anything as Jungkook grabbed his bag and ran out the door. Once she heard it close shut, she got up from her seat and started to clean up the kitchen. 

As she washed one o` the bowls, her mind wandered to Jungkook. When did he become so good-looking? She frowned, rinsing out the bowl under the hot water. So inappropriate. He was her roommate. Let alone the fact that she was older than him.

It’s only by three years.

Not helping.

Muttering to herself, she scrubbed at the pan angrily. The last thing Devon needed was a distraction. There were much more important things going on in her life than daydreaming about Jungkook.

But those muscles…

“Fuck!”

She threw the sponge down, breathing hard. Why these thoughts all of a sudden? She’s never looked at him in that way before. He was her adorable, sometimes aggravating roommate.

Who also came home with life-threatening injuries.

Okay. Good point. 

Devon distracted herself with cleaning the rest of the kitchen. Once she finished, she went into her room and freshened up. Shaking her curls from under her bonnet, Devon put on a tank top and yoga shorts. She went back into the living room and plopped down on the couch. Her shift didn’t start until eleven in the evening, so she occupied her time paying bills and getting some reading done.

A few hours later, Jungkook walked in, tossing his bag near the door, as he kicked off his shoes. He noticed Devon fast asleep on the couch, laptop open, and a book covering her face. He smiled fondly and tip-toed over. 

“Dee? Dee?”

When she didn’t respond, Jungkook walked over to the throw blanket draped over one of the armchairs and brought it over. He covered her with care and made his way to his bedroom, being mindful not to disturb her. Closing the door to his room, he stretched, looking in the mirror. Gazing at his reflection, he frowned.

“Yeah. I need to shower.”

The sweat from his workout made his shirt stick to his body and was becoming uncomfortable. Tossing the shirt towards the hamper against the wall, he ran his fingers over the numerous scars etched over his chest and torso. He frowned, feeling the raised skin. Any of these could have been fatal if it hadn’t been for Devon.

He closed his eyes, dropping his head.

“Just one more night, and it’s over.”

His phone rang, shaking him from his thoughts. Glancing at the number on the screen darkened his mood. With a scowl, he answered with a growl.

“What?”

“How rude. I thought you would be happy to hear from me.”

“You thought wrong. What do you want?”

“You’re up tonight.”

Jungkook’s brows knitted in frustration. “Why? My last fight finished. I’m done.”

“I say when you’re done. I expect you to be at the usual place before then.”

“This wasn’t part of our agreement,” he protested.

“Ah, young pup, that’s where you’re wrong. I make the rules; you follow them. Either show up, or things get messy.”

“You can’t do this!”

“I can, and I will. Besides, you don’t want anything to happen to that little nurse, do you?”

Jungkook’s face paled. How had they found out about Devon? His hand trembled, holding his phone. “Keep her out of this.”

“Then do as you’re told. See you tonight.”

The line went dead. Jungkook sank to his bed, dropping his phone as he fell back onto the pillows. What could he do? Worry crossed his face. He didn’t have much of a choice when it came down to it. He’d do anything to keep Devon safe. The guilt already ate at him for all the times he came home hurt and needed her help. Sometimes he felt like he was using her. 

But you care about her.

He shook the thoughts aside.

No, that would be bad. Getting involved with her would only complicate things. Friends only. He sighed and began to prepare for the night ahead.

Devon didn’t wake until the alarm on her phone went off. She jumped off the couch with a start as the book slid off her face. Looking around in a panic, she finally calmed once she saw the time. With a deep breath, she got up, noticing the blanket as well. She raised her brow, looking around.

“Jungkook, you home?”

His door was closed, and she shrugged, going back to her room to get ready for work. She found her scrubs and changed quickly. Just as she walked out of her room, Jungkook exited his room, carrying his duffel bag. He jumped in surprise, seeing her there.

“D-Devon! What are you doing here?”

She set her bag on the couch, giving him a strange look. “I live here, Kook.”

He chuckled as he bounced on his heels nervously. “Yeah. I know that, but I thought you left for work.”

“Um, dude, you know I get coffee with Hobi before our shift. He’s picking me up today.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Where you headed? I thought you went to work out already.” Frowning, she pointed to his bag and state of dress.

Jungkook tugged on his hair, placing it behind his ears. “Got a match.”

Genuine disappointment etched on her face. “You didn’t tell me you had a match. I would have come!”

“Eh, it was last minute,” he muttered, glancing down at his watch.

Devon felt a slight pang of hurt hit her stomach just as the sensor at the door chimed, signaling that someone was at the front door. Her phone went off at the same time, showing a text from Hoseok. She grabbed her bag and headed towards the door. She turned toward Jungkook as he paced in the living room.

“Well, I hope you win.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, distracted in his thoughts.

Jungkook didn’t hear the door close as Devon left. He stared at his phone with intense concentration. Soon he’d get a message with the address. The phone vibrated on the table. With shaky hands, he pressed the button to open up the text.

: Warehouse District, meat packing building :

Devon sat down in the coffee shop, lost in thought. Hoseok walked over to their table, holding both their drinks. He waved his hand in front of her face with a pout.

“Hello? Earth to Dee. Your latte’s gonna get cold.”

She blinked a few times and smiled. “Sorry, Hobi.”

“You alright? You seemed a little down when you got in my car,” he replied.

She sighed deeply, taking a sip of her drink. “I don’t know. Jungkook is being weird.”

“More than usual?”

“Uh-huh. Just felt off. I don’t know how to explain it...he seemed unnerved.”

“That doesn’t sound like him,” Hoseok commented. “Maybe he’s just nervous about the match. He’ll be back to his normal self in no time.”

They chatted some more; Hoseok mostly complained about the schedule they had and their cranky boss. Devon listened and laughed when needed, but she still couldn’t shake the anxious feeling she had about Jungkook. As they walked out to his car, something caught her eye. She saw Jungkook standing on the corner across the street. 

I recognize that face anywhere.

As soon as she tried to call out to him, a van pulled up next to him, and he jumped in. “Um, Hosoek.”

“Hmm?”

“Go on without me. I just remembered something.”

His lips turned downward. “But we start our shift in half an hour.”

“Cover for me, please,” she asked with a pout and puppy dog eyes.

“Damn it. Alright, but you owe big time.”

“You’re the best,” she ran off with a wave. Her eyes darted down the street. The van had stopped at a traffic light, and she hailed down a cab. 

“Where to?” the driver inquired.

“See that van with the stickers on the bumper?”

“Yep.”

“Follow it.”

“Lady, I don’t follow cars, just addresses,” he argued.

“I’ll give you $100 if you do it.”

The silence seemed like a good indication that he agreed. Sure enough, he turned off the taximeter, put the gear shift in drive, and took off after the van. Devon watched as the city setting changed from midtown to industrial. Her brows furrowed once she noticed they headed to the warehouse district. Most of the buildings were abandoned as businesses lost money throughout the years—forgotten ventures left this part of the city an industrial wasteland.

They came across the van parked in front of a dilapidated meatpacking plant. The cab stopped a few feet away.

“Here we are.”

Devon held her end of the bargain, fishing out a hundred-dollar bill, she handed it to him. “Thanks again,” she said, getting out of the car. The driver waved her off as he drove away, leaving her alone in the quiet of the street. She rubbed her arms as the chill caught up with her. 

“Maybe I should have worn a warmer jacket,” she muttered to herself, staring at the building. It was now or never.

Gathering some courage, she crossed the street, searching for an entrance. Voices grew louder, and she hid behind the van. Two large men walked out of a side door and leaned on the side of the building all the while one lit up a cigarette.

“Ready for the fight?”

“Always. Got some decent competition tonight.”

“I’ll say. Even that young pup is here.”

One of them smirked with a shake of his head. “He doesn’t know what to expect.”

“He better hope Cash doesn’t murder him tonight.”

The man closest to Devon’s hiding spot threw the cigarette butt down, and the two men walked back into the building. She ran out once the coast was clear and headed to the door. Not wanting to be discovered, she saw a broken window above the dumpster. She used the leverage of a box to jump up on it. Covering her hands from the glass, Devon hoisted herself through the window. Luckily it wasn’t a far drop. Looking around, the hanging fluorescent lights flickered, casting shadows. Devon strained her ears, listening to any indication of people. Being mindful of her steps, she tip-toed towards the middle of the building. As she got closer to the central part of the building, the shouts grew louder. She covered her mouth and nose as a stench smacked her across the face.

I know that smell anywhere!

The metallic scent of blood filled the air, mixed with body odor. There was another smell as well, almost similar to a wet dog. Devon frowned as she got closer. Wanting a better look, she noticed a staircase that led up to the rafters. Devon took the steps slowly, worried the rusty metal would give away her presence. Fortunately for her, the railing was tall enough to hide behind but had openings to see out onto the factory floor. Her eyes widened at the sight before her. A chain-linked dome was constructed in the middle of the floor. Under it, was a circular ring. Her stomach churned at the dried blood smeared on the mat. At least fifty men surrounded the dome, screaming and shaking the chains. A man entered the ring covered in tattoos and wearing leather.

“That last match was a close one! I hope you dogs are still bloodthirsty for more.”

The men cheered all around as the man grinned, a glint of madness behind his eyes. “Next up, we have our reigning champ, Cash!”

The crowd went wild as a large, muscular man stepped into the ring. His head was shaved with an intricate design etched into the skin. He was shirtless and wore a pair of black basketball shorts. The announcer pointed to the opposite side with a sneer.

“Next up, our contender for the evening, the golden pup himself, Jeon Jungkook!”

Devon’s eyes widened like saucers as her mouth dropped. A combination of cheers and jeers rang out as the young man entered. Jungkook’s eyes darted around before removing his shirt and coming to the middle of the ring.

The announcer sneered at the two fighters. “Remember, there are no rules. The bloodier, the better. Make sure to not kill each other too early in the fight.”

An attendant locked the cage, and a bell rang in the distance signalling the start of the fight. Jungkook and Cash paced the ring, eyeing each other down. Cash faked out, trying to unnerve Jungkook, but he held his ground. The announcer stepped out of the ring and gave the nod.

“You better hope for a quick death, pup.”

Jungkook snarled as his eyes narrowed. He bared his teeth at his opponent. “We’ll see about that.”

The two men ran at each other head-on. As Jungkook ran forward to swing a left punch, Cash grabbed his fist and twisted it around. The bone cracked instantly, and Jungkook’s screams echoed through the arena. The sound almost deafened her ears. She watched in horror as Jungkook’s arm bent at a weird angle. He whimpered, jumping back against the chains. Staring hard at Cash, Jungkook grabbed ahold of the limb and straightened it out. Devon’s jaw dropped to the ground.

What the fuck.

Wanting to return the favor, Jungkook attacked Cash with a barrage of punches, one slamming into his kidneys. The older male gasped as he doubled over in pain, the wind knocked out of him. He noticed blood coating his hand, and he looked up at the younger male. Jungkook smirked, raising his hand to show claws.

The announcer chuckled into the microphone. “Well, things are starting to heat up, but why don’t we take it up a notch.”

The crowd around stopped shaking the chains and threw their heads up, letting out a resounding howl. Devon covered her ears as to her horror; something unexpected began to happen. Jungkook and Cash fell to the floor, shaking. Jungkook tried to get to his feet, but his legs gave out. He let out a scream as his body began to twist and bend in obtuse angles. Before her eyes, pitch-black fur sprouted all over his body. His limbs and head contorted as they shifted into something only found in nightmares. The sound of bones breaking and reconnecting rang out in the building. 

Once it was over, two giant wolves stood on their hind legs: one black, another auburn.

“Oh my–”

The announcer grinned looking at the two wolves. “Jungkook–” the black wolf snorted. “Cash–” the auburn-colored wolf barked out, “Let the Blood match begin!”

The wolves growled, baring their fangs at one another. Jungkook was slightly taller than Cash but leaner.  Cash snapped his jaws at Jungkook, trying to catch him off guard. Jungkook avoided the bite by digging his claws into his thigh. The wolf howled in pain, trying to shake him off. Jungkook kicked his legs from underneath him and grabbed Cash by the throat. Cash struggled in his grasp, whining as the pressure began to suffocate him. The crowd grew restless, angry that Jungkook could get the upper hand. 

The announcer met Jungkook’s eyes and gave him a wink. Jungkook blinked in understanding and bit down on Cash’s throat crushing his windpipe. The wolf instantly stopped moving. Jungkook opened his jaws, letting the dead wolf fall to the ground with a thud. 

The crowd roared as the ring shook with bloodthirsty screams. The announcer ran in, raising his arm in the air. Slowly Jungkook transformed back into his human form, cuts, and bruises littering his body. His hair damp from the sweat, stuck to his neck and forehead.

“We have a new champion! Jeon Jungkook!”

He held his side and exited the ring going off to the locker room.

Devon scrambled up from her hiding place, trying to get away. What had she just seen? In her frenzy, the chain on her necklace broke and dropped from her spot and landed just as Jungkook walked by. His eyes zoomed in on the faint white gold. He recognized that necklace anywhere.

Devon

Fear crossed his face as he looked around. She couldn’t have been here. Taking off, he ran out of the building. Honing his senses, he smelled the faint notes of her perfume and followed her in that direction. It didn’t take long to catch up with her as she headed towards a park nearby.

“D-Devon!”

She froze in her tracks at the sound of her name. Everything screamed for her to run away, but the bass in his voice made her stop. Jungkook jogged up to her, breathing hard.

“What are you doing here?”

Something in her snapped. Maybe it was the stress from her job or Jungkook always coming home injured, but Devon had had enough. She rounded on him as her fists shook. 

“That’s the least of your worries! What the fuck, Jungkook?! I-I don’t even know where to begin. I mean–” a short laugh stopped her words as her body shook– “a werewolf. A fucking werewolf! I-I just...this is...I,” she babbled, sinking to a bench staring off into the distance. 

He watched her reaction, waiting for her to quieten down, and he took that chance to speak. “I only kept it from you to protect you. These people are dangerous.” 

As the adrenaline began to wear off, Jungkook’s face filled with exhaustion. He slumped to the ground. “I was giving up that life. My last fight–or so I thought–was finished the other night. I couldn’t turn it down because–” he faltered off, looking away. 

Devon raised her head to look at him. “Because what?”

His eyes welled with tears as he looked at her. “They threatened to hurt you, Dee.” He exhaled loudly, staring up at the sky. “I care about you too much to not do anything. You mean so much to me that I fought tonight to keep you safe.”

Even if she was furious with him, his confession made her heart flutter. “Kook–”

“You know the reason no one caught on to you being there?”

She shook her head no.

“You smell like me,” he answered.

She raised her brow with a frown. “What do you mean?”

Jungkook coughed slightly as his cheeks dusted with pink. “Remember all those times we’d watch movies, and I cuddled up to you?”

Did she want to know where this is going? “Uh-huh.”

“Well...Iwasmarkingmyterritory.”

“Pardon?”

Jungkook’s face looked like it would combust. “I marked you...with my scent. Any wolf that comes across you won’t try anything because you’re already...claimed.”

“Claimed? Claimed?! Jeon Jungkook, have you lost your ever-loving mind? I am not a piece of meat that you can keep for yourself!”

He winced away from Devon, whining and curling into a ball. “Not literally! It was for your safety,” he pouted, looking up at her. “I’d be beside myself if something were to happen to you.”

Jungkook rose to his knees, all but crawling over to her on the bench. He took her hands gingerly into his. 

“I don’t know where we go from here, but I’m sorry from the bottom of my heart for keeping this from you, but you have to understand—if you were in my position, would you want me to know?”

Good point.

Devon sighed as the comfort from his hands relaxed her nerves. “Kook, this is a lot to take in.”

“I know. I understand if you need some space,” he replied. His head dropped, resting on her knee. Subconsciously, Devon raked her fingers through his hair. 

This wasn’t so bad, right? 

My roommate is a fucking werewolf.

Jungkook vibrated with a sound as he suddenly pulled away from Devon. She gave him a curious stare. “What’s wrong?”

Fuck

Jungkook felt the heat rise in his face as his pupils dilated. He swallowed loudly and stood up. “I-I should get you home.”

Devon frowned but remained seated. “Seriously, Jungkook, what’s going on?”

He let out a whine as his eyes darted around. “I-I can’t tell you.”

“Jungkook,” her voice firm, “No more secrets.”

His cheeks puffed, feeling the embarrassment grow on his face. He began to pace. “Fine! You’re in heat.”

Devon’s mouth dropped open as her eyes rounded. Jungkook ran his hands through his hair, avoiding eye contact. “It’s becoming unbearable. I have to get you away from me.”

She bit down on her lip, staring at her hands in her lap. “But what if I don’t want that?”

He stopped pacing and gawked at her. “What?”

Devon rose from her seat and walked up to him. Her eyes glinted with mischief. He was still only wearing a pair of torn jeans. Cuts and bruises were healing at an accelerated rate. Jungkook froze as Devon’s hands slid across his abs, outlining them with her fingers. 

“Do I have to spell it out for you? Kookie–” she nuzzled against him, standing on her tip-toes, so her lips ghosted his earlobe, “I want you.”

Jungkook suppressed a moan. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to keep himself calm, but he was losing whatever restraint he had. He was a wolf, after all, and with her standing there wanting him, he couldn’t resist anymore. Opening his eyes, he looked down at her as his eyes glowed faintly in the dark.

“Do you know what you’re asking? Are you sure?”

She nodded, making him frown slightly. “Words, Dee. Yes or no.”

“Yes,” the resolve in her voice. “I want this; I want you.”

Suddenly, Jungkook gripped the back of her head and crashed his lips to hers. Devon, caught by surprise, didn't know what to do with her hands. They hung at her side as Jungkook guided her against a tree. Her back bumped against the trunk as he caged her in. His tongue pleaded for entrance, and she obliged, opening her mouth. He sought the delicate muscle, lightly caressing it with his tongue. 

Devon, her senses awakened, placed her hands on his shoulders and played with the long strands that laid on his neck. She moaned into the kiss, begging for more. Jungkook felt the air in his lungs struggle, and he broke the kiss, resting his forehead on top of her head. Catching his breath, he felt buzzed as her fingers massaged his skin.

With a grin, he lifted her chin, placing soft kisses every few moments. “I could kiss you forever,” he murmured.

“That makes two of us,” she responded with a giggle.

He closed his eyes with a hiss. “You smell intoxicating.” His eyes opened again as they glowed faintly. His nostrils flared as hunger took over him. “Wanna ravage you.”

“What are you waiting for?” she taunted playfully. Her fingers danced down his chest, making him groan with want. She tugged on the band of jeans after feeling his length hardened against her thigh. Only one thought crossed her mind. How was she going to take it all? She palmed him over his jeans, and much to her astonishment, he grew even harder. Jungkook clenched his jaw, trying to keep in control. Devon removed her hand and touched the button on his jeans.

“May I?”

He bit down on his lip, staring at her with equal parts lust and devotion. “It’s all yours.”

His words alone made her thighs clench together. With the same amount of fervor, Devon sank to her knees, unbuttoning his pants. His cock sprung out, slapping against his stomach. Devon was sadly mistaken if she thought it was an adequate size from just feeling it in his jeans. This man was a work of art. She’d need both hands to handle him. It was mesmerising, the head red and swollen from arousal. Beads of precum coating his stomach by now. The veins along his length throbbed as his cock twitched just from her looking at him. Devon reached out and cupped his balls, heavy and full. Jungkook braced his hands against the tree breathing through his nose. Devin ran her hands up and down his length, stroking him slowly. She brought her lips up to the head and kissed it gently. 

The sounds he made only excited her more. She ran her tongue along the tip, coating her tongue in his essence.

“Tastes good,” she cooed.

Jungkook reached down and caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. “I won’t last long if you keep doing that,” he warned.

Devon bit down her lower lip, still stroking him off. “Oh? How can I not appreciate what you have? It’s the most beautiful cock I’ve ever laid eyes on.” 

Jungkook eyed her with a smirk. “Show me how you want to appreciate my cock.”

Devon consumed him with ease like a woman starved, tongue wrapping around the length as she relaxed her mouth to take him all in. Once his tip hit the back of her throat, she paused, hollowing out her cheeks. In tandem with sucking him off, her hands pumped the remaining length. 

Jungkook’s knees almost buckled from the sensation of her mouth and tongue. He whined, watching her move. “S-So warm and wet,” he whispered languidly. 

The slurping sounds rang out in the night as Devon tried her best to deep throat him. Jungkook cooed praises while stroking her cheek. When Devon’s eyes met his, he almost came right then and there. Tapping her cheek, she stopped bobbing her head and slowly came off his cock with a soft pop. Saliva and precum coated her lips and his cock. He picked her up off the ground, cupping her chin, and kissed her with unbridled passion. The kiss nearly knocked her off her feet. He sucked at her bottom lip sensually, still turned on by her actions. 

“My turn,” he teased. 

As much as he wanted to rip her scrubs off, they were out in the open. Being as gentle as possible, Jungkook tugged them down, drooling at the smell permeating from her. He noticed the wet patch on her underwear and licked his lips, his nose bumping against her pubic bone, trying to hold onto his restraint. He swallowed thickly, meeting her gaze.

“Baby, can I have a taste?”

She combed her fingers through his hair, nodding. “Yes, Jungkook. Please.”

His tongue licked a thick strip on her underwear, causing her to jolt. Gasping, she gripped his hair, anchoring herself in place. With his teeth, he tugged down her underwear past her knees. He smirked, enjoying the view.

“So lovely. And all for me.”

He massaged her inner thighs, placing soft kisses along her skin, making his way up to her pussy lips. His finger stroked her slit gauging her reaction. Devon hissed as her hips bucked, making a chuckle escape past his lips.

“Already wet and needy for me, hmm?”

He spread her lips apart, eyeing her clit. He flicked it gently, followed by a smack. Devon bucked her hips with a gasp. Jungkook gave a tentative lick collecting her arousal on his tongue, and let out a wanton moan, covering her clit with his mouth. Devon threw her head back, grinding against his mouth. He let go of her clit, letting his tongue travel down to her entrance. He moaned against her, enjoying the feast before his eyes.

“F-Fuck Kook….like that….don’t stop,” she pleaded breathlessly. 

As her legs trembled from standing, Jungkook paused, looking up at her. He couldn’t get enough of her. He smiled again as he hoisted her legs up and propped them on his shoulders. 

“Better?”

His strength alone was turning her on. Devon gripped his hair as she cried out into the darkness. The spring coiled tight in her abdomen. She was close. 

“K-Kook, I’m gonna....gonna.”

“Baby cum for me, let me taste it all,” he purred.

She rutted against his mouth as her hips jerked. Jungkook held her tight just as she stopped mid-scream. Waves of pleasure crashed over her as the coil finally released. Devon’s chest rose as she came down from her high. Pupils dilated, she tried to catch her breath. Jungkook happily lapped up her juices, humming with content. Once he cleaned her up, he gazed up at her intently.

“But I’m still hungry.”  

A shiver ran down her spine. He noticed the way her pussy lips throbbed just from his words. Smirking, he removed her legs from around his neck and stood up from his position. He wrapped her legs around his waist, pressing close to her. Devon held on to his shoulders, returning the smile as he nuzzled against her, kissing her neck.

“I need you now, baby.”

“S-Still sensitive,” she whispered.

Jungkook kissed her forehead gently, with a hum of understanding. “Gonna have to fix that eventually.”

She hit his arm playfully with a grin. “Oh? So there’s gonna be a next time?”

“Hell yeah! I already laid claim,” he teased.

“Without me knowing?”

He gave her his famous bunny grin, and a blush crept into his cheeks. “I mean...if it’s alright with you, Dee.”

“Fuck me, Jungkook,” she mewled.

A growl formed in his throat as the animalistic urge took over. “It will be my pleasure,” he husked. Lining himself to her entrance, he stopped himself from thrusting in. “Is this okay? I mean, I don’t have protection, Dee.”

“Jungkook, if you don’t fuck me right now. I swear–”

The wind got knocked out of her as he thrust into her. Jungkook grunted as he rested his forehead on her shoulder. “Was that too much?”

“J-Just move...fuck Kookie, move!” she begged.

Gripping her hips, Jungkook felt his cock swell inside her pussy. “Oh shit,” he choked out. 

He began a slow, steady rhythm, making sure she was okay with the pace. Of course, he felt the need to go quicker, but he held off. This was only their first time, and he didn’t want to do anything she didn’t agree to do. 

She didn’t care about the tree bark digging into her back. All that was on her mind was this amazing man fucking her silly. She felt so full. He sought her lips, kissing her feverishly. Their grunts and moans filled the emptiness of the park. Devon, now more alert, began to bounce on his cock. Jungkook bit down on his lip, holding back a moan. She was snug around him. He didn’t want this to end. She could feel him throbbing inside, knowing soon he’d come. 

“W-Where do you want it?” he gasped, nibbling on her earlobe.

“In me, Kookie. Fill me up.”

“Oh fuck. I will. I will,” he chanted.

For the second time that night, Devon saw stars as her orgasm slammed over her. It rippled through her body as her pussy quivered around his cock. Jungkook became sloppier with his pace, seeking his own pleasure. He tugged her hair to the side, bitting into her neck to hold in his sounds, but it was too much. He threw his head back as an earth-shattering howl ripped into the night. His cock twitched before spurting out his seed deep into her womb. 

After a few moments, when they caught their breath, Jungkook picked her up with care and laid them both in the grass. Still attached to her, he kept her in his lap. She laid her head on his chest, content with the beating of his heart.

“That was–”

“Incredible? Mind blowing? Magnificent?”

Devon rolled her eyes, attempting to keep still as he was still buried in her pussy. “You give yourself way too much credit.”

Jungkook’s fingers danced along her skin with a giggle. “Do I? I’ll have to try harder.”

Devon let out a slew of curses making him laugh out loud. To prove his point, he raised his hips, making his cock brush her spot. She growled before twisting his nipple. Jungkook yelped, trying to turn away.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

Devon snorted out a laugh, bending down to peck his lips. “You’re forgiven.”

“Good, but seriously. Are you okay? It wasn’t too rough, was it? Sometimes my wolf can get a bit off-kilter,” he frowned, looking up at the stars, “I’d never wanna hurt you, Dee.”

She felt her heart swell as she stroked his cheek. He leaned into the touch letting out a soft whine. “It was everything I’ve ever wanted Jungkook. You’re amazing.”

“Really?” he looked at her hopefully. 

“Really,” she answered with a grin. He laid back in the grass, closing his eyes briefly. Dragging her nails down his chest, a glint of mischief appeared. “Oh, Kookie?”

“Yeah?”

“My, my, what big eyes you have.”

He opened one eye. “What?”

“Oh, humor me. I’ve always wanted to say this,” she pouted.

He snorted out a bark. “Fine,”–he sat up, staring at her sinfully. “The better to see you with my dear.”

Devon cooed as she took his hands into her. “My, my, what big hands you have.”

Jungkook gripped her hips, sliding his hands up her back. “Better to hold you with, my dear.”

Devon leaned down to whisper in his ear. “My, my, what a big dick you have.”

He flipped their positions, towering her with a snarl. His eyes smoldered, staring down at her. His lips traveled from her neck to her sternum, nibbling the skin as he went. Devon purred, feeling her body become alive once again.

“The better to fuck you with, my love,” he growled.

By the end of the night, Jungkook had Devon howling his name at least ten more times.