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satorusugurugurl · 20 days

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I hope this does not give too much pressure, but I have a request? I LOVED LOVED the fanfic about satosugu and reader with them being very, very rough after a tough work project/trip. Then I thought about it being a angsty?? Love a good angst

This is your account so it’s completely up to you to write or not!! I was thinking that after a while SatoSugu have another rough week. When the come back, the don’t immediately take it out through sex. Instead, they just bottle it up. Reader tries to comfort them about it but they ignore her or act snappy. Reader isn’t a pushover, but she is very understanding and patient. She lets them be mean, (it still hurt though) and just stays calm. She also had her own rough week while they were gone, but she doesn’t really show it. When they come back angry, she was hoping to forget her pain with them, but she only got their cold shoulder and words.

The next day when she comes home from another rough workday, she notices that they seemed to still be angry and agitated from their work trip. They suggest she take the next two days off, and she immediately knew what was coming. (Full consent given from her) She was feeling sensitive from her own turmoil/stress and the duo’s coldness, but she didn’t think too much of it.

While the roughness did feel good at first, it slowly became too much. They were too rough, far too rough. Their harsh words hurt. Their harsh hands hurt. The rope/ribbon hurt. Everything hurt, but was she overreacting? She was scared of disappointing them and ruining the mood I guess. She tried to look alright, but her cries slowly let out from the pain and emotional hurt.

They noticed it… Reader apologizes, but the duo is like, “Um no why are YOU sorry? This is on US.” SatoSugu realize their mistake and take care her mwah!! It was just a small dump, I’m so so sorry! As much as I LOVE writing, I’ll never be too confident enough to put this out. Even if I were to, writing styles will always be different. (Plus, I love the way other people write, just like yours!!)

Sorry it’s so so long!

- Moni Anon (first time requesting… kind of shy)

Shock

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, FAB!Reader

Pairing: SatoSugu X FAB!Reader

Word Count: 2,659

Warnings: Blood, death, shock, nightmares, PTSD, rough sex, choking, riding crop, shibari, degradation, emotional breakdown, crying, aftercare

A/N: I loved this request! Angst is like some of my favorite stuff to write! 🥲 I love a good sad story.

Part One

The morgue was cold. But it wasn't as cold as your hands. You stood at the sink, scrubbing at them with soap and water. You hadn't realized the hot water had been running so long; it had turned icy cold. But you had to keep scrubbing them because you could still feel the tacky blood coating them.

Their blood, their blood that was hot and flowed through your fingers when you tried to stop the bleeding. Blood that stained your clothes. The blood is quite literally on your hands.

You tried, tried so damn hard to save the assistant supervisor who was with you on your mission. The information the higher-ups had given you was wrong. The curse you had exorcized wasn't the only one lingering in the building. There had been two, and after the first was taken care of, you and the assistant supervisor were headed out. The second curse attacked. Slicing at you, you had barely managed to dodge it. Getting cut on the cheek. The young woman, however, had her blood splattered on the concrete.

After the other spirit was dealt with, you rushed to her side. She cried as you tried to tell her she would be okay as you called for Ijichi. But the cut was too deep; she lost too much blood, and you watched the light fade from her eyes. Leaving you alone, stained with her blood.

Your mind snapped out of the bloody memory as someone turned the water off. They gently grabbed your hands, drying them off, pulling you out of the trance you were in. Shoko eyes you before gently leading you to the chairs lining the walls, ushering you to sit down. Reluctantly, you listened, plopping down and looking at your hands.

“I'm going to call Satoru and Suguru to tell them what's happened.”

Your head jerked up, “N-No, don't do that. I’m fine!” Shoko shook her head, leaning against the wall. “Shoko, please, really, I’m fine, I swear.”

“Y/N, I left ten minutes ago. You were washing your hands then, and I found you still washing them? You're in shock; I can't let you leave like this.”

“Please, I don't want to bother them. They just got back from a rough mission.”

“And you didn't?”

Your friend's words were searing into you like hot needles. She was right in a sense; you had just gotten back from a rough mission, but so had your boyfriends. They were gone for a week. Having to travel overseas to deal with several grade-one curses. The two of them handled it, taking down the curse users with them. But when they got home this morning, they headed to the room jet lagged and annoyed over each other, claiming they needed space and sleep.

If Shoko called them, they would be more irritable. You wanted them to get as much rest as they could. They worked their asses off. You being in shock was a minimal issue to involve them in. You would be okay—eventually.

“Y/N, I’m not comfortable letting you go home alone,” Shoko repeated, sitting on one of the chairs beside you.

“Okay, what about Yaga or Nanami then?”

You were so thankful that Shoko agreed with your proposition that Ijichi drove you and Nanami back to your house. Nanami was quiet the whole time, stealing the occasional glance at you, watching as you stared at your hands. It wasn't until Ijichi parked in front of your house that Nanami cleared his throat, catching your attention.

“I think you need to take a couple of days off.” His glasses gleamed. “I'm going to talk to Yaga about it. You're in no state to work right now. You need time to process what happened.”

Swallowing hard, you opened the door to the car. “I appreciate your concern, Nanami, but I’ll be okay.” You attempted to give him your best smile. “I got this.” The look on your friend's face screamed that he knew you were lying.

“Regardless of your ploy to fool me or downplay how much you're hurting, I will still talk to Principal Yaga.”

“And I’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks again, Nanami.”

You waved the car off before rubbing Your still-freezing hands together. Things would be better once you got inside. Satoru and Suguru were back, and you could relax, forget about work, and just be together.

As you approached the door, Satoru came out, black sunglasses on as he shut the door. “Oh, hi Satoru, welcome home!” You put on your best smile, approaching him.

“Hi, I'm heading out.” His tone was sharp and as cold as your hands.

“You’re not staying here?”

He pulled his sunglasses down, revealing his blue eyes. “No, I need to get out. Suguru is driving me insane. I’m going shopping.” He waved you off as if dismissing you.

“Oh, well, if you give me a few minutes, I could go with you?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way.” He kept walking, not even looking back at you. “I don’t wanna be around either of you right now.”

Ouch, that stung. But you just gave him a weak smile before heading inside. “Be safe.”

Alright, so Satoru needed some space, but Suguru might be in a better mood. Heading towards his room, you knocked and waited for him to respond. Only he didn’t. Your stomach twisted in knots as you hit again, a little harder this time.

A loud groan sounded behind the door before you listened to the floorboards creaking. The door flung open, and Suguru cocked an eyebrow as he eyed you. He looked exhausted and pissy, but he didn’t say anything as he glared at you.

“W-Welcome home.”

“Mhm.”

“Uhm, Satoru left. Do you wanna watch a movie or get something to eat?”

Suguru shook his head, dark streams of hair falling in his face. “No.” Your cold fingers twitched as you took a deep breath. Just as you opened your mouth, Suguru sighed, jabbing his thumb against the center of his forehead. “Y/N, please, I don’t have the patience or energy to entertain you. Please go away.” The door slammed in your face, leaving you staring at the wood grain in stunned silence.

Okay, well, that was unexpected. When the boys came back from a mission like this, you all usually had sex, taking the aggression out in the rawest way you could. This cold shoulder attitude was something new. Alien and strange, making my stomach ache.

After last week and especially today, you hoped to spend time with them. Snuggling them, forgetting about the horrors you had witnessed. Instead, you have a door in your face.

Nothing you could say or do to change their minds and attitudes. Everyone dealt with anger, stress, and exhaustion in their ways. Theirs happened to be wanting to spend time by themselves. Which was perfectly fine, but they could have at least been a bit nicer about it.

You spent the entirety of your night in your room after a hot shower. You lay there hugging your pillow as you stared blankly at the wall. Every time you started to doze off, you would see blood splattering the floor, hear wheezed, gurgled breathing, and see the light fade from that poor girl's eyes. You hardly slept at all, restlessly tossing and turning.

You were relieved when your alarm went off, ushering you to start your day. You got ready, and not once did you see your partners. Both doors to their rooms shut. Neither one came out to see you off, making your stomach turn.

At work, you put on a smile, trying to joke with the first and second years, but everyone could see your fragile state. From the dark circles under your eyes to how you disassociated during training. So you weren’t surprised when Principal Yaga came into your classroom and told you that you would be taking the next week off.

“You need to focus on recovering. If you need more time, call me.”

His words hummed in your ears all the way home. How pathetic were you? Allowing a young girl to be killed. A mandatory week off of work, and on top of all that, your partners were pissy and avoiding you. This, indeed, was one of the lowest two days of your life. You can’t remember the last time you’d felt this lowly, lost in the dark.

“I’m home.” You announced as you entered the house. Not expecting a response since both of them weren’t up when you left.

“Y/N,” Satoru said as you felt him press against your back. “Need you to do us a favor.”

Your body tensed as a blindfold was placed over your eyes. “You’ll need to call out of work for the next few days,” Suguru added as hands groped your breasts.

“Yeah, not a problem.”

They needed this, and if it would mean they felt better, that you could focus on pleasure, you’d gladly do what they wanted. And what they wanted was rough carnal sex. The type of sex that hard blue ropes digging into your wrists, bound behind your back. Intricate shibari dug into your chest, your breasts being squeezed. Everything felt so good, but it was so tight it almost hurt.

Your mouth was wrapped around Satoru’s cock. He was fucking your throat, yanking your hair painfully as he moaned as Suguru fucked you from behind. With every other thrust, Suguru slapped the leather riding crop over your ass. Your cries around Satoru’s cock had them both groaning.

“What a fuckin’ slut.” Satoru whined out, thrusting deeper down your throat, making you gag.

Suguru smacked the crop harder against you. “A dirty fuckin’ slut.” Another smack, followed by another, and it just kept going and going.

You cried around Gojo harder as Suguru continued his whipping behind you. “M-Mmm!”

“Mmm~?” Satoru mocked you. “Fuckin’ pathetic.” His cock hit the back of your throat painfully. Making your tears stain the blindfold as Suguru’s pace picked up.

“Pathetic whiny bitch in heat.” The crop hit your other cheek. “Absolutely pathetic”

You weren’t sure what hurt more. The crop and their cold, harsh words. They were never this mean. Calling you pathetic hurts because that’s who you saw yourself for the last few days. The ropes began to sting like your eyes; more tears stained the blindfold. You could handle this; they should be done soon; they needed this.

You couldn’t save that girl; the least you could do was help your boyfriends feel better.

“Pathetic worthless girl~ all you’re good for is this.” Gojo yanked your hair, and you saw splatters of blood. You were worthless at that moment.

A sharp sting from the riding crop. “Yeah, a good-for-nothing slut. All you’re good for is being our personal cock sleeve.” Good for nothing, yeah, you just let that girl die.

“Fucking stupid bitch.” The dark-haired man watched as Satoru’s face scrunched up in pleasure. “You're going to make him cum.” Long fingers trailed under the twisted ropes, yanking them hard. “That’s all you’re good for bitch.”

The ropes burned, digging into your flesh. Slicing into you like—like the girl you let die.

Suguru was the first to notice something was wrong. Your hands were pale. They trembled along with the rest of your body. He tossed the riding crop to the side, his dark eyes focusing on his white-haired boyfriend, who was still in utter bliss.

“Satoru.” His voice wasn’t filled with the same heated lust from before, and you noticed. “Stop, pull out.”

Satoru was about to complain, but as he peered at Suguru with half-lidded eyes, he knew he was serious. He listened to both of them pulling out of your mouth and pussy, watching as you coughed and gagged before those gags turned into wretched sobs. You curled in on yourself, sobbing louder. Images of blood, the morgue table, and blood spinning down a sink flashed through your mind.

The boys jumped into action instantly. They removed the blindfold and the bindings around you, allowing you to curl into a fetal position. They watched your trembling body before looking at each other, mentally asking the other what they should do. But it was you who spoke first.

“I-I’m sorry!” A broken cry sounded from the back of your throat.

Satoru gently pulled you into his arms, leaning against the bed's headboard. You sobbed into his chest while Suguru gently rubbed your back. Both of them were silent as you cried two days’ worth of pain out. Guilt seeped into the muscles and none of your body, for the assistant supervisor, for ruining the mood, for being so weak.

“Don’t. Please don’t apologize,” Suguru whispered, leaning down and kissing your cheek. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“This is on us. We went way too far.” Satoru added his hands, gently massaging your shoulders.

You babbled into his chest as your other hand grabbed Suguru’s, holding it tight. “I-I messed up this week! And now this!” You could feel both of their muscles tensing at your words.

“What do you—”

“Mean you messed up?”

The events of yesterday spewed out of you like a water fountain. You sobbed, going over the details while both men gently caressed and listened to you in silence. The moment you finished spilling out your guts, Satoru and Suguru shared a look.

“And I didn’t make it any better.” You sniffled, looking up at Satoru. Ivory cheeks were flushed as he ran his hand through his hair. “Telling you I didn’t want to be near you.”

Suguru let out a cold, harsh chuckle. “I wasn’t any better. I told Y/N I didn’t have the time nor the patience to entertain her.” You hummed, relaxing against the duo, feeling more calm than you had in the last twenty-four hours.

“Then we were too rough. I feel like a total dick

“Same here,” Suguru planted a kiss on your shoulder, his hand gently rubbing your arm. “What can we do to make it up to you?”

“I’m honestly so tired. I just want to snuggle in bed.”

Your request wasn’t ignored. They both got up; Suguru changed the sheets and picked up Satoru’s room. While you stood under the hot water in the shower, Satoru gently washed your hair. Long fingers massaging your scalp before the curtain opened and Suguru stepped in behind you. Their hands gently slid over your slicked skin. Washing, massaging, and worshiping you.

Their sweet caresses made your eyes heavier as the tense, sore muscles relaxed. While you longed to take care of their needs most of the time. Being held like this, sandwiched between the two strongest sorcerers in the world, made you feel safer. With them at your side, you knee deep down in your gut that everything would be okay.

After the most relaxing shower you’d ever taken was over, you slid on your pajamas before crawling into bed, collapsing into the plush mattress and expensive Egyptian silk sheets. Satoru crawled in with you as Suguru pulled you to rest on his chest while Satoru spooned you. Their hands were so soft and gentle. Their fingers and warm palms were like your own personal lullaby.

“Shh,” Suguru hushed, “we got you.”

Satoru nodded against your shoulder and the crook of your neck. “You can rest. If you have a nightmare, we’ll be beside you.” Satoru grabbed one hand as Suguru grabbed the other.

“Rest.”

The warmth of their hands in yours had your cold hands finally returning to normal. Sometimes, days could be terrible. Making you question everything you do. You were happy to know your boyfriends would be there to help bring some of the light back into your life. That was something you would firmly be able to stand by and defend, especially when their arms were wrapped so tightly around you.

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sodoshame · 9 months

Text

Superglue.

Pairing: Mostly Swiss x Fem!Reader but it’s a poly!ghoul situation lol

Warnings: Angst, comfort, touch-starved reader

A/N: This is incredibly self-indulgent because I’m ridiculously touch-starved lmao.

Swiss had only recently noticed the way Y/N seemed to react to touch. Even little touches here and there- at first, she would flinch; then eventually leaned into the touch. She looked on with a look of what appeared to be envy and sadness when she saw the affection the others gave and received.

The ghouls very rarely touched her; her initial flinch response had made them wary; they didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. It hit Swiss the other day when he watched Mountain cleaning up a cut that Y/N had. Mountain touched her with such gentleness and sincerity; she leaned into it, her eyes glossy and almost desperate. That hit Swiss like a ton of bricks.

Y/N never really got upset to the point of tears in front of the ghouls, she seemed to just display anger. Despite that, Swiss could detect a hint of fear, sadness and longing whenever she would lash out at anyone; she’d storm off after, tears in her eyes. If anyone tried to follow her, they’d get immediately shut down and shut out.

Swiss watched intently from the table as Y/N washed up from dinner. The others had gone back to the den, but he had decided to stay and keep her company. She had seemed slightly snappy at dinner tonight, her responses to everyone were short and sharp. Despite this, Swiss had noticed that her hands were shaking anytime she picked anything up, her legs anxiously bouncing under the table.

“Fuck! Ow, shit.”

Swiss was bought out of his thoughts by Y/N’s string of curse words. He stood up, walking over to her as he noticed her wrapping a hand towel around her now bleeding finger.

“You okay? Let me see-”

“It’s fine. I’m fine.” She snapped, not even looking at him.

“Y/N-” He started as he put his hand up to her back.

She quickly flinched, moving away as she practically glared at him.

Swiss frowned, looking down at her as he stepped back a little; his features laced with concern.

“I’m just trying to help.” He said, studying her face. He watched as her expression changed from irritated to a strange mixture of regret and sadness. He gently reached out, resting his hand on her shoulder. Y/N flinched, but didn’t move away from him.

“I’m sorry, I- I didn’t mean to-” She started, her voice no longer snappy, instead it seemed… fearful? Swiss took a step closer, his hand still gently on her shoulder as he studied her face.

“You’re okay, Y/N. Don’t apologise.” He said, his tone was sincere and caring. Taking another step closer, he looked down at her as he felt her starting to lean into him; she had tears in her eyes.

Slowly, Swiss gently wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a comfortable, but not suffocating embrace. He felt Y/N relax into him slightly, her breathing ragged and shaky. The ghoul brought his hand up to her head, securing her in the hug.

“You’re okay, sweetheart.” He mumbled as he heard a raspy sob come from her as she started shaking. Y/N pressed her face into Swiss’ neck, her hands clinging to his shirt for dear life. He stroked her hair softly, holding her close to him, he felt his heart break as she sobbed into his chest.

“Y/N, honey, listen to me. Breathe in… And out… In… and out.” His voice was almost pleading with her, but it didn’t work. She clung so tightly to him, almost like she was afraid that he would disappear. He kept stroking her hair and holding her, just letting her get it out of her system. After a little while, she began to calm down; she still had tears running down her face but she was breathing more evenly.

“Good job, sweetheart. I’ve got you, okay? You’re alright.” Swiss soothed, rubbing gentle circles on her back. Y/N finally pulled her face away from his neck, looking up at him with watery eyes and tear stained cheeks. She didn’t let go of his shirt, the fabric was still balled up in her fists. Swiss moved his hands to gently rest on her waist as he studied her; he brought one hand up to gently wipe away her tears with his sleeve.

“What happened, love?” He asked, his voice gentle and soft.

“I- I don’t really know.” She mumbled, looking up at him with a desperate, sad look in her eyes.

Swiss nodded in response as he stroked a stray hair behind her ear.

“Y/N… Whatever happened to you before, it will never ever happen here, okay? We will take care of you. All I want is for you to trust us enough to be honest when you’re struggling, okay sweetheart?” He said, his eyes sincere. She nodded as tears started to well up in her eyes again. Swiss pulled her back into a tight hug, quietly shushing her as he rubbed her back whilst she cried.

In one swift motion, he pick Y/N up- her arms wrapped around his neck. The ghoul had one arm under her thighs, supporting her as her legs wrapped around his waist. His other hand was soothingly rubbing her back in small, comforting circles.

“I’m gonna take you to the den, okay? You’re going to be okay.” Swiss said as he started walking, carrying her. She didn’t say anything, just letting out a quiet sob into his shoulder, gripping him ever so slightly tighter.

Once at the ghoul’s den, Y/N was practically swarmed by them.

“Hey! Give her some space, would you?” Swiss said, a slight edge to his voice. She nuzzled her face into his neck, almost embarrassed for the others to see her like this. He slowly let her down, her feet now back on the ground; she was hesitant to let go at first, but she felt a large hand resting on her back, and she slowly unwrapped herself from Swiss, turning around to see Mountain offering a small smile.

“We’ve got just the thing that will help, buttercup.” Mountain said, his voice soft and warm. The tall ghoul led Y/N to the couch; he sat down and patted the space next to him. Once she sat down, they were quickly joined by the others; Swiss sat the other side of her, wrapping an arm around her, Sodo just sat himself right on top of her, snuggling in closely as he started softly purring; Rain sat on the floor below, using Swiss’ legs as a pillow, whilst he wrapped himself around her legs, gently rubbing her knee with his thumb, and Phantom sat down on Mountain’s lap, squishing close to both him and Y/N.

She was surrounded by the comfort of her ghouls, all of them touching her in some shape or form; all of them showing her sweet affection and nothing else. She breathed out a sigh, glancing around before letting her eyes flutter shut.

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andvys · 5 months

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I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss | part 22

Warnings: none. mostly fluff. slight jealousy.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!reader , Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary: The summer days get hotter and your feelings confuse you more and more. A day at the lake might make things better.. or worse.

Word count: 4.7k

A/N: So, I really really struggled with this chapter and spent more time rewriting it than actually writing it. I'm sorry if it seems a little scattered and rushed, I promise the next one will be better. @hellfire--cult thank you as always, you were such a big help, you always are but especially with this chapter so thank you, love

series masterlist

Steve never thought that he would end up here. Working at some ice cream shop with a girl who despised him for the first few weeks. He couldn’t blame her. Robin is your friend, she knows what he did to you and it’s not just that. Up until this spring, he didn’t even really know who she was, she was just someone he passed by in school and didn’t even bother to glance at or even acknowledge.

Now that he got to know her a little, he couldn’t help but take a liking towards her. She may be snappy at times but she is.. cool. He likes her. Not in the way he liked Nancy or you. But, in a way he should’ve liked Nancy – just as a friend.

He calls her friend. Robin refuses to call him that.

She likes to pretend that they are enemies but really, they finally get along after weeks of bickering at Scoops Ahoy. After a little incident that got them locked up in the storage room for a whole night, they got even closer – who knew that weed and a little heart to heart would get them to like each other?

Robin looks at Steve differently now, her looks aren’t filled with hate or annoyance anymore – well, she still rolls her eyes and makes fun of him but it’s not the same anymore.

Sometimes when you’re around, she gives him pitiful looks. He can’t stand it. He doesn’t want or even deserve pity, not from her, not from anyone.

She is looking at him with that look right now.

He sighs, trying to give her somewhat of a smile before he looks down at the red solo cup in his hand. Your giggles make his heart flutter and hurt at the same time. You are sitting on one of the logs around the fire, with Eddie. His jacket is wrapped around your shoulders, your legs are thrown over his thigh, you are practically sitting on his lap. You are nodding along to something he’s saying.

You two are in your own little world, ignoring the rest of the people around you. It’s hard to tell what the two of you are. Every day, he wonders if you have made that move yet. The one he made with you back when you went from friends to something more.

People are celebrating the fourth of July with a bonfire party at Lovers Lake, just like every year. In all the previous years before this one, you were by his side, giggling at something he would say, wearing his jacket, sitting on his lap.

Now you sit there with Eddie.

And it all feels so wrong, you shouldn’t be there with Eddie.

You belong with him.

“Are you okay?”

Robin’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts, he looks at her, nodding.

She tilts her head, giving him another pitiful look.

“You’re not drunk, are you?”

He shakes his head, chuckling softly, “no, whenever I get drunk or high I end up doing or saying something stupid.”

She chuckles, though, it’s more of a sad chuckle. When they got stuck in the storage room, Steve opened up about a lot of things – things that he would have never talked about had he been sober.

He let her have a look inside.

Robin didn’t think that she would ever understand Steve and why he left you. But, she understands him now, a little.

He was scared of how much he loved you.

“Do you wanna go home?”

“Nah, I’m your ride, remember?”

She pats his back, giving him a smile, “that’s right, dude. You should go and have some fun.”

He snorts, shaking his head. He glances at you, not expecting to see you looking at him – staring at him. He can’t read the look in your eyes but he can see the smile that tugs at your lips. You raise your hand, waving at him, shyly.

His eyes light up, his lips twitch.

Robin notices the look on his face, the happiness that takes over in an instant. She follows his gaze.

“Do you wanna go talk to her?” Robin asks, nudging his shoulder.

He looks at you with softened eyes. His shoulders fall when you break eye contact, turning away from him to face Eddie again.

“No,” he whispers.

“Why not?” Robin asks, knowing that he wants to talk to you.

“She’s with Eddie.”

“So? You talk to her every time they come to Scoops together.”

“That’s different.”

“How so?”

Steve nudges his chin towards you, “look at them.”

Robin sighs, looking over at you and Eddie. His arm is now wrapped around your shoulder, he is smiling as you whisper something in his ear.

“I won’t interrupt that.”

She knows how Steve feels about you, she knows how Eddie feels about you but, what she doesn’t know is how you feel about them or how you feel in general. You don’t talk about your feelings, you don’t know how to, every time you did try to talk about them with her, you fell into a ramble, mixing up words, stringing together sentences that would make no sense, confusing both her and yourself.

It wasn’t always like this.

You used to be able to talk about your feelings. You never rambled or broke down in the middle of a sentence and she felt like you were getting better after each conversation you had.

Then, you went on that date with Ray and everything went downhill after that.

You spent so much time trying to get over the pain that Steve had caused you. You got stronger and more confident. And it seemed as though you got – or, started to get over him. It took months to get up and all it took was a night to fall back down.

She sighs.

“I get it, Steve.”

“Careful.”

“I am careful!”

“No, you’re not! You’ve been on this ladder unsupervised.”

“So?”

“So? You’re a clutz!”

You roll your eyes, snorting at his words.

“No, I’m not, Eddie.”

You finish taping the new Metallica poster to the wall, glancing down at him, “alright, give me the next one, please?”

Eddie chuckles, he lets go of the ladder and leans down, reaching for the last poster in the box. He unrolls it and his eyes widen.

“Holy shit, that’s a new Iron Maiden poster!” He gasps, staring up at you with big eyes.

You giggle, nodding, “I ‘accidentally’ ordered two.”

He furrows his brows.

“Got one extra for you.”

His eyes light up and a smile appears on his face.

“No fucking way!”

You laugh at his little outburst.

“It’s in the breakroom, I’ll get it after I put this one up,” you say, pointing to the poster in his hand.

“You’re the best, did I ever tell you that? In case I haven’t, you’re the best, sweetheart!”

He holds it out for you, grinning at you as your eyes meet.

You shake your head in amusement, giggling, “I think you are the best but thanks.”

He grabs the ladder again, eying you with a smile on his face.

To know that you thought of him while making orders for the store, to know that you got something for him, something that he didn’t even ask for, makes him so happy.

“So, what are we doing tonight?” You ask.

He watches the way you furrow your brows as you tape the poster right next to the Metallica one. You bite your lip, focusing on getting it even.

“Uh, I’m not sure, what do you feel like doing?”

“Dinner and a movie night?” You suggest, “Heather is throwing a party but I don’t feel like going.”

“Me neither.”

“So, dinner and movies it is.”

“Sounds perfect to me, bab– s-sweetheart,” he clears his throat.

Baby. He wanted to call you baby.

Your cheeks heat up. You dare to glance at him, finding him looking completely flustered. His eyes are closed, his brows are knit together and his cheeks glow red. Cute. You have to suppress a giggle.

“Alright, all done!” You clap your hands together after finishing hanging up the last poster. You grab the tape and the scissors, handing them to Eddie before you make your way down the ladder.

“Careful,” he teases you.

You only roll your eyes in response. You jump on the ground, looking up at him with a proud smile, “see? Not a clutz.”

You shouldn’t have spoken too soon. The moment you take a step forward, you trip over the open box on the ground, stumbling forward. His hands land on your waist.

Your hands fall to his chest, your knee buckles but you don’t fall, he holds you tightly.

“Not a clutz, huh?” He chuckles as he looks down at you.

“That was an accident,” you pout, looking up into his eyes.

You furrow your brows, his racing heart that you feel beneath your touch pulls your attention to his chest and for the first time, you notice how much bigger he actually is, how much taller he is.

How did you not notice before?

“Hey guys!”

Robin’s panicked voice causes the both of you to flinch. You both turn to look at her, frowning in confusion when you see the way she looks between you both.

You slowly step away from Eddie.

Why is she looking at you like that? Nothing happened.

“Hey,” you smile as you lean down, picking up the empty box.

Eddie gives Robin a questioning look, tilting his head to the side.

Her eyes are wide and she’s smiling, nervously.

What the hell is she so nervous about?

A moment later, Steve walks into the store. Oh, right. Her new best friend, the one who gets jealous at every interaction he sees between you and him. Eddie rolls his eyes, not at him but at Robin and how protective she is of his feelings.

“Oh hey,” Steve mumbles, turning to look at Robin in surprise, “you come here on your day off?”

She nods, stepping further into the store, “yep.”

“Buying new records for the car you don’t have?” He teases, smirking.

“Ha ha,” she rolls her eyes.

He chuckles and finally turns to face you.

“Hey.”

You smile at him, “hi.”

Steve glances at Eddie who turns away, pretending to look around.

“So uh, what are you two doing here?” You ask, chuckling.

Robin raises her brows, pointing at Eddie, “what’s he doing here?”

You walk behind the counter, putting the box down. You reach for the drink on the counter, lifting it up, “he brought me coffee and lunch.”

Robin nods, tilting her head, she smiles at Eddie, “you’re such a sweet friend, Eddie.”

He rolls his eyes at her, mumbling something under his breath before he turns away again.

“I uh– I wanted to ask if you wanted to spend lunch break with me but, I see you got something already,” Steve mumbles, running his fingers through his hair as he looks down.

“Oh, maybe next time?” You ask, trying to give him a smile.

‘Maybe next time’ sounds like a nicer version of ‘no, thank you.’

Steve knew that it was a mistake to come here and ask you to spend time with him, alone. But, he wanted to try.

“W-We can go out for lunch together… on Monday?” You offer.

His eyes light up and he looks up from the counter, he nods with a smile on his face.

“I’d love to.”

He smiles at you and you smile at him. Neither of you notice the annoyed look on Eddie’s face.

“And I wanted to ask if you wanna go to the lake tomorrow? You, me, Chrissy,” Robin smiles, “and your two uh–” she stops herself from saying what she actually wants to say as she gestures to Steve and Eddie, “buddies.”

Steve squints his eyes at her, “buddies?” He whispers.

“It’s supposed to get super hot tomorrow,” Robin says, ignoring Steve and Eddie’s glare.

“Uh– sure, why not,” you shrug, “Eddie, do you wanna go?”

“Yeah, sure.”

You lift your brows, giving her a smile, “great.”

She lifts her hands, giving you two thumbs up, “great,” she grins, nudging Steve’s shoulder.

You should have known that Robin and Chrissy wouldn’t be here on time – poor Steve is probably in his car waiting for them. A part of you is relieved that Eddie didn’t have to pick them up though, you would still be waiting for them.

You and Eddie are sitting on a large picnic blanket, looking at the water as you both snack on the grapes you brought. You are still in your sundress but the longer you sit out in the sun, the more you feel like ripping it off and jumping into the cold water.

There aren’t many people around, a few kids with their parents, some teenagers you recognize from school but you and Eddie chose to sit away from everyone else.

You are both quiet, enjoying each other’s company in silence as you wait for the others.

“They are taking so long,” you whine.

“I know,” Eddie chuckles.

You glance at him, he stretches his legs out and leans back, looking at you with a smile on his face.

“Do you wanna go swimming?”

You bite your lip, looking him up and down. You take your sunglasses off and put them on your bag.

“If you come with me,” you say, giving him a sweet smile.

“Do you think I’ll let you swim alone? There could be monsters and shit, I gotta protect you.”

You laugh, shaking your head.

“Monsters in Lovers Lake? The only monsters I see are those teenage boys – hold on, is that Carver?” You ask, scrunching your face up in disgust as you point at the blond who just jumped into the water, “you might be right, there are monsters.”

Eddie chuckles, “yeah, that’s a real monster.”

You start to unbutton your dress.

Eddie gets up, reaching for the hem of his shirt, he pulls it over his head, throwing it on the ground, it lands with a soft thud beside you. You look at the shirt as you push the dress down to your waist, looking up at Eddie.

You have seen him shirtless before, countless times, actually. He is actually one of the only men you had seen shirtless – one was Steve, another one was Billy, but only because he walks around shirtless whenever he gets the chance to. Besides, he was never one that you had been attracted to. So, Billy doesn’t count.

But you look at Eddie.

His body, his skin, his scent, different from the one you already know, the skin you traced. The freckles that are not on his skin, yet it is covered in tattoos. No sun kissed skin, yet still beautiful in its paleness. No brown luscious hair, but a messy mop of dark curls that still fall beautifully on his shoulders. Both beautiful, both different. But why are you even comparing?

“Ready to go?”

You snap out of your thoughts, nodding.

Sighing, you look down and finish taking your dress off. You press your lips together as you adjust your top.

You hear the sharp breath he takes, the curse word that fell from his lips, the one he tried to cover with a cough.

“I-Is t-that a new one?” He stutters, trying to rip his gaze away from your chest as he points to your swimsuit.

You feel amused by the stutter, by the blush on his cheeks and the shakiness in his voice.

“Yes,” you giggle.

Eddie stares at you, at your body, at your soft skin that he is dying to touch. Your eyes that shine beneath the sunlight, the cherry red swimsuit that is hugging your body so perfectly. The way you look up at him with big eyes, parted and glossy lips. You look so gorgeous.

“I love it.”

Your eyes widen and you are once again blushing.

“Thank you, Eddie.”

He looks at you, not hungrily, not in a way others have wanted you before. He looks at you like you are the most precious thing in the world.

You push yourself up, leaning closer to him, you give him a teasing smile.

“I’ll race you to the water.” And with that, you run off, giggling when you hear him cursing.

“Hey! That’s not fair!”

You squeal in surprise when he catches up with you quickly, he wraps his arms around your waist, picking you up and running into the water with you. He laughs at the squeal that falls from your lips again when the cold water touches your skin.

“Got you,” he whispers in your ear as he holds you tightly, sinking in the water with you.

“It’s so cold!” You gasp, holding his forearm tightly.

“Wanna dive, sweetheart?” He teases.

“No!” You squeal as he takes you deeper into the water.

He chuckles when you push his hands off, putting some distance between you before you turn around to face him.

“You wanna fight me?” You splash water his way.

“Oh,” he chuckles, shaking his head, “you wanna play that game?” He asks, splashing water back at you.

You nod as you walk back, suddenly feeling nervous when an evil smirk appears on his face.

“How about you play the helpless victim?”

“And you play the big bad monster?”

He suddenly jumps forward, reaching for you but you quickly pull back, trying to run in the water.

“No!”

You hear his dark chuckle behind you, “we didn’t even get started!”

“You’re an evil water monater!” You giggle as you take a look at him, watching the way the few wet strands of his cling to his cheeks.

His eyes light up with amusement, “the evil water monster is gonna get the pretty human.”

Your giggle makes his heart flutter and his smile widens when you squeal again as his fingers brush against your wrist.

“I almost got you!”

“Leave me alone!” You laugh, making the mistake of running into the other direction, giving him the chance to grab you. His hands grab your waist and he pulls you against him, your back is now flush against his bare chest. His fingers digging into your sides as he starts to tickle you.

“H-Hey!” You laugh, throwing your head back, “t-that’s not f-fair,” you giggle, gripping his wrists but he is stronger than you. “E-Eddie!”

“Eddie!” He mocks, laughing.

You push him back, hard enough for him to lose balance and as he falls, he takes you with him, wrapping his arms around you, you both fall into the water, laughing together as you fall against his chest.

The water sloshes around you. You are both giggling as you help each other up, holding each other's hands. He pulls you into him causing you to stumble forward a little. Your free hand falls against his wet chest as his falls to your waist.

“Hi,” you chuckle.

“Hey,” he smiles, moving his hand up to tuck the wet strands of your hair behind your ear.

You look at his chest, eyeing his tattoos for a moment and then, you look up, eyes drifting to his lips.

His brows knit together. He watches the way you look at him. His breathing stutters when your eyes continue to stare at his lips. But you are confused and completely lost. Why? What are you thinking about?

You pull away from him when you catch yourself thinking of something that shouldn’t even cross your mind.

Why did you even think about it?

Why did you have to get so close to him?

Wasn’t the kiss with Steve enough?

Why are you trying to ruin another friendship?

You already lost Steve, you don’t want to lose Eddie too.

“Hey guys!”

Both you and Eddie look up to find Robin running into the water, grinning at the both of you.

“Hey!”

The smile on your face is fake, Eddie can see it.

“Took you long enough, Buckley,” Eddie chuckles.

“Yeah, I uh– we stopped by the store, got some snacks,” she says with a shaky voice as she gets into the cold water.

“Hey guys!” Chrissy yells from the spot you and Eddie picked, waving at the two of you. She sits down on the pink towel she just put on the grass next to yours.

“Hi!” You smile, waving back at her.

Judging by the tanning oil in her hand, you already know that she won’t be joining you in the water.

Finally, you look at Steve, who seems unaware of what just almost happened. He takes his shirt off and runs his hand through his hair as he stands there in just his swim trunks, looking like some model that just walked out of a magazine. Your eyes widen as you stare at his chest.

Since when does he have chest hair?

He used to hate it and always shaved it when you were still together.

You stare at it without meaning to, your eyes roam his body. He changed a little, his arms are more muscular than before, his shoulders are a little broader. His hair is longer too.

When he looks up, you turn away, not wanting to be caught staring.

“Robin, can I talk to you for a moment?” Eddie asks with pleading eyes.

“Yeah sure.”

You watch as they both step away, leaving you standing by yourself for a moment. Good, you need it. You look around, deciding to go swimming without them. You take a deep breath and walk deeper into the water, letting the coldness envelope your body. You close your eyes and you start swimming.

As you swim further away from the shore, the voices and the laughter from the people get lost in the distance. You hear the water sloshing, your breathing and your beating heart.

You stop swimming and tilt your head back, stretching your arms out as you lay on your back, letting your body float.

You try to not think. You try to not feel. You try to just be here and enjoy this. You enjoy the cold feeling on your skin beneath the water, the warm feeling of the sun shining down on your face.

For a moment, it’s so quiet out here, it’s almost eerie.

You think about the joke Eddie made. Monsters in Lovers Lake. Now that you’re out here by yourself, you can’t help but think about it. Maybe there is something in the deep end.

Something could just snatch you up and pull you down. You definitely watch too many horror movies.

“You’re too far out.”

Your heart leaps to your throat and you open your eyes, gasping as you clutch your chest.

“You scared me!”

Steve’s lips part, his brows furrow. You place your hand on your chest, trying to calm your breathing. He can’t help but laugh as he takes in the terrified look on your face.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, swimming closer to you, “did you think about that weird lake monster that you were so afraid of when you were a kid?”

“Huh – oh! O-Oh, you remember that?” You laugh.

He nods, “yeah, you only talked about it like every day.”

You snort, rolling your eyes.

“I wasn’t thinking about that monster.”

“A different one then?”

“Maybe.”

He laughs, “still scared of monsters that don’t exist, I see.”

“Hey, you never know, something could just emerge from the water.” You swim towards him, getting closer and closer. His cheeks are a little red, water drips down from his hair, single droplets rolling down his cheeks and his lips.

“And what, snatch me up?” He chuckles, licking his lips.

“Mhmm, maybe monsters love guys with uh that,” you giggle, pointing to his chest, “I thought you hated chest hair, Stevie.”

You always told him to stop shaving it, you always wanted to see what it would look like on him.

His cheeks heat up and he doesn’t know whether it’s because of your words, the nickname or the closeness of your body.

“I’m trying new things,” he shrugs.

New things. He is trying new things. He tried new things when he dated girls before you, new hairstyles, new clothes, new music. He only ever tried new things when he was interested in someone and thought that he had to change – be better, look better.

“L-Like what?”

Your eyes flash with something that he struggles to read.

“For girls you mean?” You ask before he can even respond to your first question. You remember what Robin told you the first time you visited them at Scoops Ahoy. “A-Are you– do you have someone?” You ask before you can even stop those words from spilling.

“What?” He asks, shaking his head at you.

“Nothing,” you mumble, “forget it.” Why do you even care?

This is none of your business. He can do whatever he wants. He can flirt as much as he wants. He can go on dates. He can have flings. He can have girlfriends.

You tear your eyes away from him, desperately wanting to get away when you feel your cheeks heating up but just as you’re about to swim back, you notice how loose your bikini top is suddenly feeling. You raise your hand, placing it on your chest, “shit,” you mumble when you realize that the knot came undone.

“W-What’s wrong?” Steve asks as he snaps out of his thoughts.

“M-My stupid bikini – the knot–”

He realizes what happened when he notices your hand on your chest as you keep your other arm stretched out so you stay afloat.

“Can you help me?” You ask with big eyes.

His heart melts at the tone in your voice and the look in your eyes.

“Of course,” he whispers, swimming towards you.

This isn’t ideal but, he touched you before, he had seen you naked before, it won’t be weird or foreign for him to do it.

He swims behind you and he stares at your bare back for a moment, swallowing nervously. He takes in a shaky breath and reaches out to gather your wet hair, he brushes it to the side.

A shiver runs down your spine when you feel his touch for the first time again. His calloused fingers touching your bare skin. You press your lips together, and close your eyes.

He moves closer than he has to, he can’t help it. He reaches for the strings of your top and he starts tying the knot, slowly. He can feel the goosebumps on your skin and he can’t help but wonder if it’s because of the cold water or if it’s because of his touch – he hopes that it’s because of his touch.

He looks at your soft skin, wondering what it would be like to feel it on his again. He wonders what it would feel like to touch you, to have your body pressed against his. He looks at your shoulder, wishing that he could lean down and press his lips against it, pressing kisses up to your neck. His heart flutters just at the thought of it.

He is close, so close.

His fingers brush against your spine and your breath hitches in your throat. He heard it.

His touch feels so different from the way it used to feel. It’s soft, gentle. Something that it never used to be. He is careful with you, he never was, not when you were still his.

You wonder if he ever thought that you looked beautiful.

You wonder if he ever craved you the way you craved him after he left.

Your heart starts racing the longer you feel his hands on your skin. Hands that used to be so rough on your body are now so light and caring, it makes you nervous. His hands feel familiar yet so strange and foreign.

Is he touching someone else with those hands now?

“There’s no one else.” He says as though he could read your mind.

For a moment, you stop breathing.

“There’s only one girl for me,” he whispers as he puts his hand on your shoulder, turning you around carefully so he can see you, so he can look into your eyes.

He felt the way you reacted to his touch. He heard the sadness and the jealousy in your voice when you had asked him those questions. He can see the look in your eyes.

There is still a chance.

There is still a chance, right?

next chapter

tagging friends and mutuals

@mysticmunson @taintedcigs @littledemondani @wroteclassicaly @corrodedcorpses @corrodedseraphine @succubusmunson @trashmouth-richie @take-everything-you-can @xxhellfirebunnyxx @sherrylyn628 @somethingvicked @nemesis729 @chrissymjstan

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington angst #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson imagine

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papercorgiworld · 3 months

Text

The Death Eater Drabbles 2:

Cuts and bruised egos

Mattheo, Theodore, Enzo, Draco and Blaise

Read part 1: Untie me.

You have to take care of your prisoner, which means spending time together.

Find part 3 here

You had been staring at a wiggenweld potion for over 30 minutes contemplating on whether or not to use it to heal your prisoner. You were short on ingredients, so you normally only used it for really bad injuries. And since your new housemate was still complaining and not crying of pain you really had no right to offer him the healing potion. However, you were really not looking forward to cleaning him up and healing every injury. It demanded that you stay in the same room for longer than 5 minutes and not just that you had to sit close to him. Thankfully he was still tied up.

Urgh, this is going to be a nightmare.

Mattheo Riddle

His legs were dangling on the bedside as he lay on the bed staring at the ceiling, but as soon as he heard you enter he sat up. “Here to give me my bath?” He asks with a smug smile. You sigh but make your way over and sit next to him. Mattheo’s eyes land on the bowl of warm water and the small towel you’re holding. He wants to say something snappy, but at the same time his face and torso are really hurting. So he keeps quiet and watches you dip the tip of the towel in the water. You try to clean off the blood without reopening the cuts or pushing too hard on the bruised skin. When you see him clench his jaw you immediately pull away. “I’m sorry, I’m almost done.” His eyes never meet yours and he simply forces a smile. “It’s nothing.” You stare at him sympathetically, not buying into his tough act. After a few more soft touches his face looks better. “You have a few small cuts, but they will heal on their own.”

You get up and want to head for the door when he urgently gets up as well, startling you. You watch him as he clearly searches for words, but he just clenches his jaw again. “Nothing.” Is all he says and sits back down on the bed. It’s then that you notice him wince in pain. You press your lips together. Why do I feel so bad for him? “Where does it hurt?” You ask and he looks up. Mattheo just shakes his head. “I’m fine.” You roll your eyes and put the bowl of water on the nightstand before sitting down next to Mattheo. “Right you’re so tough you don’t get hurt or don’t feel pain.” You mock him and he’s clearly annoyed with you. But before he can open his mouth your hand is already on his chest and slides down. When you press down on the sensitive spot on his side a painful hiss escapes him. He curses himself for being so vulnerable. “That’s your good mate, Harry’s work.” You’re a bit shaken by the anger in his voice. “Shouldn’t ‘ve picked a fight with him.” He looks at you, but you avoid his gaze and focus on unbuttoning his shirt. “Not like I had a choice.”

You look up and his dead and angry eyes lock with yours. “You must really enjoy this?” Mattheo snaps with venom dripping from his words. “No I don’t, but I bet most girls would pay money to undress you.” Your attempt to lighten the mood seems to be a success as Mattheo’s death glare falls. You’re done with the last button and examine the bruise on his side. “Nothing a simple healing spell can’t fix.” You pull out your wand and make the bruise fade. “Do you take such good care of all your prisoners?” You smile pleased that he’s calmed down. “You’re my only prisoner.” You answer as you get up. “Sounds like marriage to me.” You narrow your eyes at his horrible joke. “How about I get you some clean clothes?” His signature smirk is back on his face as he watches you leave. Oh please, (y/n), don’t be so nice to me, I might never wanna leave.

Theodore Nott

Theo lay on the bed and was resting his eyes, but when he heard the key flick his eyes flung open. “Missed you.” He quips with amusement ringing in his voice. He rolls to his side. You snort and go to sit on the bed. “I’m here to check your injury.” You push him back on his back. “Going to undress me, this is getting interesting.” Your lips form a line as you shake your head. “Don’t get your hopes up, Nott.” You unbutton his shirt and as expected a large cut stretched over his torso. “I won’t be able to heal it at once, but I’ll do my best to ease the pain.” His smirk fades as he watches you gently dip a towel in warm water to slowly clean off the blood. He winces in pain a few times. “I’ll be done soon.” You reassure him. Theo just huffs, an arrogant grin on his face. “I’ve had worse.” You look at him with a disapproving look. “That’s not something to be proud of.” Once the cut is cleaned you use a spell to heal it a bit and to bantage him.

Theo watches you as you clean the slightly bloodied water with one flick of your wand. “Okay, now let me look at that face.” As you reach for his cheek he pulls away. “It’s not that bad.” You sigh and roll your eyes. “Let me at least check. Otherwise you might end up scared.” Now it’s his turn to roll his eyes. “Don’t you women love a man with a scar?” You let out a laugh. “I guess having a scar can be sexy, but trust me your pretty face already has a few small scars and that’s sexy enough for you.” You lean a bit over him and start cleaning his face. It wasn’t that bad, but it’s definitely better with all the blood gone. “You’re really taking good care of me, especially since I’m your enemy.” He suddenly blurs out, instantly regretting it. You look him in the eyes and give him a soft smile. “You decided to be my enemy, but I never chose to be yours.” You carefully push some of his messy hair out of his eyes. He pulls his face away from you. “You made a choice too.” He says bitterly. “Attacking people is a choice, Theo, but protecting the people I love that’s not a choice, that's just my duty.” Theodore just stares holes into your skull. “That’s a hollow argument, things are never that easy.” Your eyes linger over his bandaged torso. “You’re probably right.” You turn your eyes back to his face and force a sweet smile. “Anyways you look a lot better.” Theo nods softly. “Thank you.” His sincerity touches you. “Now, let me look, maybe I can get you some clean clothes.” I never wanted to be your enemy, (y/n), I never chose that.”

Enzo Berkshire

Enzo was sitting on the bed while leaning against the frame. When he sees you enter he jumps to his feet. “Change your mind?” He wiggles his eyebrows. You smile at his playfulness. “No.” You say and you give him a soft shove so he lands on the bed. “Your actions are giving me different signals. Pushing someone on a bed is clear language to me.” A giggle rolls over your lips and Enzo watches you with admiration. “I’m here to check on the cuts and bruises on your face.” You sit down next to him and push a few strands of his hair aside. You frown as you see one particular deep cut above his right eyebrow. “Hermoine is merciless. She slammed my face into a wall twice.” You don’t look at him as you dip a towel into a bowl of warm water. “Maybe you shouldn’t have attacked them in the first place.” You state as you softly swipe the towel against his face. “It was three against one. I thought that if I surprised them I could get away. I swear I wasn’t really trying to kill them.” You pull away for a moment to watch his expression trying to figure out if he was being truthful. You keep quiet not really knowing what to say. If he was indeed outnumbered he was probably scared.

“I’m glad you’re here with me.” Enzo speaks up as you start cleaning the gaping cut near his eyebrow. You simply give him a smile. When you suddenly pull out your wand Enzo jumps a bit. “No worries, I’m going to heal you so you aren’t left with any scars.” He lets out a sigh of relief and you tap your wand against his head healing him. “I’m not going to hurt you as long as you don’t try to escape.” You say while you put your wand away. Enzo offers you a bright smile. “It’s like I’m in heaven. I’ve got a soft bed and a pretty girl taking care of me. What more can I ask for.” “Maybe some fresh clothes?” Enzo nods and watches you leave in awe. Heaven.

Draco Malfoy

You walk in and Draco huffs in annoyance. He had been pacing around the room in frustration. “Ready for part two of our bad date?” You say referring to his earlier comment in an attempt to lighten the mood. A foul look appears on Draco’s face. “For your own sake let me just check your injury and heal you.” He narrows his eyes at you weighing his options. “Fine. But don’t jab your brute fingers between my ribs again.” You roll your eyes at his dramatics. “How about you drop the attitude and I won’t jab.” He ignores you and reluctantly takes a seat on the bed. Draco watches you carefully as you work your way down every button. “This is straight up embarrassing.” You raise a questioning eyebrow at Draco. “You, undressing me while I’m tied up.” He explains with a harsh tone. You roll your eyes. “Trust me, Malfoy, undressing ‘you’ wasn’t on my bucket list either.” “You probably prefer Potter then? A bit cheap for you isn’t he?” Your eyes fling up in anger, ignoring his half undone shirt that your fingers are still working on. “No, Harry is just my friend. But he’s not cheap. And honestly, I hate rich kids like you.” Your boiling frustration reaches its peak when the last button of his shirt won’t budge. In anger you accidentally rip his shirt. Draco’s eyes widen and embarrassment washes over you. “Sure, says the girl that literally tore my shirt off.”

If looks could kill you would be burying Draco instead of healing him. When he finally drops his arrogant smirk your death glare falls as well. You inspect the bruises on his side and he watches you in silence, adoring your beautiful features. “A quick healing spell and you should be all better.” You announce before pulling out your wand. “Don’t screw this up.” You simply narrow your eyes at him and cast the spell. “I feel better, you did well, I’m impressed.” Draco says in an attempt to sound grateful. You sigh, but refuse to get into another argument. Draco is disappointed by the fact that you aren’t entertaining him with snappy retorts anymore. He really doesn’t want you to leave so soon already. “This was an expensive shirt and you tore it.” You roll your eyes, but look at his bare upper half. You couldn’t leave him like this. “Alright, I‘ll see if I can find you a new shirt.” He nods and forces out a hesitant ‘thanks’ before you leave the room. Draco lets himself fall onto the bed. (Y/n), you can tear off my shirt anytime.

Blaise Zabini

You hadn’t properly set foot in the guest room and Blaise’s playful voice was already ringing in your ears. “Missed me?” You huff. “Not in the slightest.” He’s not convinced and continues grinning. “I’m here to fix up your face and make sure you don’t have any fractures.” Blaise stands up from the bed and walks towards you towering over you. “Just admit, (y/n), you missed me.” You reach for his face, gently stroking over the marks and bruises. Blaise’s playful smile drops. “Your friends would’ve never caught me if they hadn’t snuck up on me.” You frown, not impressed by his arrogant tone. “Pretty sure they said they stumbled into you by accident, not really the same as sneaking up on someone.” You push against his chest urging him to sit down on the bed. He complies, his eyes never leaving yours. “Harry is just trying to impress you.” A smile creeps up on your face. “Harry is trying to impress me? Sounds more like you’re trying to find excuses for being a sucky wizard.” Blaise immediately pushes himself up from the bed. “Am not!” You snicker at how easily he was offended. “Sit.” You command as you push him down again and pull out your wand.

“Maybe I just don’t want you to think I’m less of a wizard because they beat me in an unfair duell.” Blaise confesses and you stare at him for several seconds before looking down at your feet. “I don’t think less of you because you got caught, I just don’t trust you because you, you know, you joined him.” His lips part but no words come out. You offer him a sympathetic smile and get up heading for the door. “It’s complicated.” Blaise finally says and you turn around to look at him. “Yeah.” You whisper softly, understanding that it probably wasn’t his choice to get involved. As you look him up and down you notice how ragged his clothes are. “You really need some fresh clothes. I’ll be right back.” Much rather have a fresh start with you, but I’ll take the clothes.

#slytherin #slytherin boys #theodore nott #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott x reader #blaise zabini #blaise zabini imagine #blaise zabini x reader #enzo berkshire #enzo berkshire imagine #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy #enzo berkshire x reader #papercorgiworldwritings

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jaketsparrow · 2 months

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SOMETHING... | JTK

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f! Reader

Word Count: 10.6K

Summary: When you have to say goodbye to your professor and mentor, a cocky young professor steps in, Jacob Kiskza. Literature used to be your safe place, but now you feel him getting involved in every corner; it doesn’t help that you’re his TA. You deny yourself every opportunity to fall for him until…

A/N: Hi guys :) I know it’s been forever since I’ve put something together and I apologize about that, but this is life. This one has been on my mind since the Grammy U interview and I finally had the idea to put it all together. I hope you enjoy :)

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*Also I'm so sorry I lost my tag list so if you want to be tagged here's a new form* Taglist

MINORS DNI

MENTIONS OF/ TW: Sexual content (of course), talks about death/grief, angst, swearing, Dom! Jake, restraints, possible orgasm denial, choking, alcohol use, fingering (f receiving), dirty talk, ~some~ degrading, praise kink!, I’m sorry if I missed anything, but, etc, it’s filth.

The classroom was cold in the early months of the year. You had gotten in the habit of wearing your coat through the 3-hour seminar. You were lucky that this class only ran once a week, but you often had to stay longer than the students, working with the professor for a few hours afterward. He was always elusive. Always eager to get things done as fast as possible; efficient and snappy.

There was much to admire about him, but his personality often left you rolling your eyes. He always seemed a bit too sure about himself, always being the tough grader, pushing students further than they were willing to go. He cared a lot, especially about the subject matter. He still had that gusto in him to do things right, to be stern.

He was new to the program; and before this, only about a year into teaching. You studied under his predecessor. She was a kinder old woman who cared deeply for you, like your mother away from home. She taught you everything- and even got you to change majors during your sophomore year. She supplemented your reading supplies, nurtured your abilities, and was always willing to sit in deep conversation with you. Discussing the classics, introducing modern pieces, talking about life, talking about it all.

Professor Kiszka on the other hand…

When he took over for Professor Meelo, he took very little time to rip the bandaid off. When you had originally been promised a TA position in the literature department, you were expected to be under your mentor, not a cocky white man.

You spent weeks crying during winter break after first meeting him. The day you met him didn’t go exactly as you hoped. It was the week of finals when you found out Meelo was sick, and that she was stepping away from teaching. As if finals week wasn’t stressful enough, you had to come to terms with the fact that the woman who taught you everything was going to be leaving this world sooner than you would’ve thought. It was even more of a punch in the gut to walk into your introduction meeting to see… him.

3 Months Ago

The walk across campus felt heavier than usual. The winter had been harsher than it usually was in early December. The wind whipped across your bare rosy cheeks, causing freezing tears to slowly fall out of the corners of your eyes. Almost like a bad omen, the weather continued to get worse as you sludged your way across the quad.

The parking lot was nearly a mile away from campus, which was nice during the warmer months; the trees would sway across the crosswalk, blessing the sidewalk with fallen flowers and leaves. The grass was green and lively, a welcome mat onto a wonderful learning home. Between the cracks of the stone walkways, little dandelions would grow. You never understood the people who thought them to be unnecessary weeds. They were bright and yellow lively plants, and when the time of beauty passed, they passed their good wishes onto you. Blowing what once were vibrant petals into the wind. Who knew you’d miss the weeds on your walks?

Instead, now the stones were smeared with remnants of snowy footprints, broken earth that had been cracked through with the force of shovels, and the remnants of the dead earth.

Meelo called you just last week. You begged to go see her in the hospital, but she didn’t want you to worry too much. She agreed to call you every other day, just like your usual coffee arrangements. She loved them just as much as you did. She never had a husband or any children. Her students were her children, her soul was fed enough through changing lives that she didn’t want to take away that love from her students or prevent any child from feeling all of it. You were not the first to bear their soul in her office, but you might be one of the last.

Meelo begged you to go meet the new professor. You had tried to rescind your TA position, but she blocked you at every chance she got. Even while in hospice she still managed to look out for you…

“Please, sweetheart. I know it’s not easy. But he’s young, he’s smart, I think you’ll have a lot in common with him,” She pleaded through the phone.

“But he’s not you. I just, I thought… I thought I’d have more time…” Your voice trailed off.

You tried to hold the phone away from your face, trying not to distress her more with the sounds of your whimpers and tears.

Her voice started again, “You never know what you will learn from him. You have more time with me, but there comes a time when a teacher must share her students for them to learn more. If we stayed in our echo chamber together my dear I’m afraid you wouldn’t learn everything you need to know. Jacob is going to be a great professor, and I know you will learn a lot from him. His research and analysis work is quite extensive. The school and I hired him for a reason. Please. Just give it a try. For me.”

“Just for you.”

And here you were trudging through, feeling every bone in your body telling you to turn around, to go home. But you were doing this not for you, you reminded yourself. For Meelo. She was right, you latched on to her from your early years in college and favored her over all of your other professors. They were kind and nice as well, but it didn’t matter to you in the end, if they weren’t Meelo, they were never going to compare.

The building seemed colder than usual. The large glass windows were covered by their shades; no one wanted to see the gross state of life outside of the classroom. That’s hardly motivating to any student, the fluorescents would give more life than the grey state of the weather.

You pull the door open, walk through the entryway, and follow your usual path down the hallway to Meelo’s room.

The thing about old colleges, everywhere you turn is a little piece of history. Each room has housed many professors and many students. The building had life, had ghosts of its own hidden in each brick, in each stone. You felt the comfort of this presence moving through the hallway.

You stop right before Meelo’s room, catching your breath before you enter. Trying to have an open mind. Kiszka could be something, or he could just be another man throwing words at you. Not that all men were the same, but a majority of the male professors here were lackluster, favoring the male students and the athletes who needed the better grades to stay in the school. And if they favored the women… You always felt a cold chill thinking about that. Thinking about why…

One last deep breath before you enter the classroom. You grab tight onto the handle of your tote bag and strut confidently into the room.

It was empty.

The beautiful artwork and posters that Meelo had filling the room were stripped. Revealing the natural state of the architecture. It was beautiful in its own way but didn’t feel like the educational home you once felt so blessed to be in. The desks were all shoved to one side of the classroom. The previous welcoming U-shape was demolished, instead providing a cluttered destruction of Meelo’s work.

You stood awestruck in the shape of the room. There was no time wasted between Meelo leaving and Kiszka starting to make his mark on the room. The bookshelves that used to be filled in the back of the room had been emptied and their contents sat on the floor in boxes.

You walk over to the boxes, kneeling to gently sift through the carelessly placed books. This was Meelo’s library that she had collected for the classroom. Take a book, leave a book, borrow a book, bring it back. You loved visiting this wall every week, seeing what books your peers were interested in, and which books made their way into the library. Some new, and some returning after long months away.

Sitting on top of the box was the classic “Brave New World”. Aldous Huxley. 1932. Not an original copy, but a new binding. It was like the universe was sending you signs. This would be a brave new world. A world where you might have to come to terms with the fact that Meelo would not be in your life forever. A world where you might have to figure out everything with a new mentor. A world where you thought you would have years to work on your pieces with a woman who understood you, but now you would turn over your heartfelt pieces to a man. One who may not understand you the same as someone else does.

“A favorite of yours?” A voice perks up from the doorway.

You turn to see him. Your eyes work your way up his figure. He’s wearing Chelsea boots, black thick linen pants, a white loose shirt with a black vest, and a dress coat over it. His chestnut hair lays over the shoulders of the coat, and his eyes are covered by circular gold-rimmed sunglasses. He oozes mystery. His arms crossed, surveying your crouched body by the boxes. You hate to admit it, but he may be one of the most handsome men you’ve ever seen.

You hold up the book towards him, displaying the cover.

“Not particularly. I don’t like thinking about the takeover of technology. It feels too real right now.” You respond.

He wanders over to you, taking his time, each step creating the most annoying echo in the emptied classroom. He reaches his hand out to yours, asking silently for the book. You hand it over to him and stand to match his level.

He passes the book between his hands, admiring the binds, “Ah, yes, but perhaps something can be learned from the book if more understood its warning… if only more read it…”

“If only…” You let the conversation trail off. Your eyes wander back to the pile of desks on the opposite wall. You feel yourself zoning out, focused only on the change of the room, not on the man in front of you.

“-Your favorite?” He asks.

You snap back to the conversation, trying to recall the beginning of his question, “I’m sorry?

“If this is not your favorite, can I ask which is?” He waves you to walk with him.

You follow him into the office at the back of the classroom. He sits in Meelo’s chair, and you sit in the chair that had held you so many times. You wouldn’t be surprised if the cushion had a you-shaped imprint in it at this point.

He asks a third time, “You don’t seem like the Jane Eyre or Louisa May student, so what is it?”

You let your bag fall off your shoulder and you try to sit up in the chair, asserting some sort of professionalism. Your answer will hold some sort of judgment for him. Although you want to be offended by his comment about the female author’s classics, he’s right. They were never your favorite.

“Tess of the D’Urbervilles. Meelo gave it to me as my first assignment.” You respond, confident in your answer.

He nods in approval, “Lovely choice, very telling. Meelo said you were very bright–one for the classics.”

He leans back in his chair, stroking his chin. His hand reaches up to the gold-rims and pulls them off, clattering onto the desk. He pulls himself towards the desk, resting his elbows on the table.

“Are you going to ask me mine?” He asks, almost presumptuously.

You fight back the urge to roll your eyes. Of course, he has to find a way to be important here. You adjust yourself in your seat, crossing your arms in the process.

“If you want me to know, why don’t you just say it?” You retort.

He chuckles to himself, “Lord of the Rings.”

Your mouth falls so far open that you’re afraid a fly might buzz its way in. You lift your hand to your mouth and try to hide your disapproval.

“That’s a classic for sure.” You reply, “Not one I would’ve expected from a college literature professor, but a classic nonetheless.”

He pushes himself off the desk, running his hands through his long locks before they make their way onto the arms of the seat.

“You don’t approve?” He scoffs.

“I didn’t say that, I just said it’s not one that I would expect.”

“I believe there is a difference between a personal and professional favorite. A favorite you could read over and over again, and you could enjoy without having to think too much about what it all means. it’s an adventure, its heroes and legends, it’s a call for relaxation and enjoyment. I’d rather have my favorite be a well-known classic than a deep thought-provoking story about purity.”

You fight every urge in you to slap the man sitting before you for disgracing such a beautiful novel. But you think about Meelo. You think about stepping outside of the echo chamber.

“I think we may have different opinions on favorites, Professor Kiszka.” You say shortly.

You feel the tension grow between you already. This would be a difficult semester. Even more difficult because as you felt your dislike for him grow, you couldn’t stop staring at the beautiful man sitting in front of you. His brown eyes stared deep into you, trying to assess his new assistant. You tried not to let him in too far. You were not fawning for him, at least you weren’t trying to. You wanted to fight off the growing warmth crying to spread through you. It was like seeing a handsome stranger in the bar; you knew the danger, but almost didn’t want to let yourself protect your heart.

He was by far the youngest professor here, and the most eligible. No ring was on his finger.

“Please, call me Jacob.”

You stood up from your seat, throwing your bag over your shoulder. You try to compose yourself enough not to let any distaste escape from your lips.

“Sorry, Professor Kiszka, I have finals I need to finish, it was a pleasure to meet you. I look forward to working with you in January. If you need anything from me before then, I believe the dean gave you my information.”

You reach your hand out awkwardly, trying to invite a handshake. He cautiously reaches his hand back, pulling you into a firm, but still gentle handshake.

His eyes meet yours. The deep brown staring into you. Although you should have the power from your standing position, you knew he held all the cards from his seat. The handshake lingered longer than you had expected, both of you locked deep into staring each other down. He finally releases his hand.

“It was a pleasure.” You start to leave the office, but he makes one last remark, “Oh, one last thing…”

You turn to face him, “Yes professor?”

He reaches into the desk and pulls out a cloth-bound book, handing it to you. You slowly return to the desk, taking the book from his hand—the Lord of the Rings.

“Try it for me? You do have a whole winter break…”

You rub your hands over the cover, smiling at his request. You place the book back in his hand.

“I used to read it as a child. No need to give it a try when you’ve read it four times already.” You smile at him.

Even if it wasn’t your favorite, didn’t mean it wasn’t a favorite.

Present

In some ways, your relationship with him felt like a love-lost marriage. Just moving through the motions. You sat in on the classes and took note of who engaged, and who didn’t. You graded assignments, tests, and papers, with him always double-checking and doubting your work. You didn’t sit in on long conversations with him like Meelo. Perhaps some of that was your fault, always quick to get to work. He adjusted to you quickly, understanding how you needed to work, and letting you grieve.

Meelo passed quickly into the semester. You cried once in front of him when the news broke. You nearly snapped his head off when he asked if he could help you. From that moment on he took on this cold persona, but you don’t blame him at all. You knew in your heart that you would not have the same connection with him as Meelo, so it was easier to never try.

Through everything, your work never faltered, and your school work remained the priority. Perhaps it was a way to hide through all the pain but the calculated steps it took to grade provided a soothing rhythm amongst the distress.

You never failed to notice all the times you caught him catching glances at you. You were silly to think that it meant anything more than just a quick look, but still maybe somewhere in your heart, you had hoped that maybe he was thinking of you more than his assistant. For weeks you watched him stroll into class, always wearing a disheveled but somehow put-together outfit. You loved seeing how he would piece together different clothes from his collection. Never repeating an exact outfit, but always finding new ways to repurpose the same items.

One day he walked in with a new addition to his look, a cluster of pendants on a necklace. They looked older, more worn in than any new silver. You asked him about it briefly, trying not to engage in a further conversation.

“They’re coins, Spanish coins, designed after ones from the 1600s. I think the jeweler lied to me when he said they were originals, but they still look okay… Do you think so?

“You look like a pirate.” You responded.

A sexy pirate. You shoved that thought deep into the back of your mind. Holding on to it, because you didn’t want to forget how good he looked.

His Thursday classes were always one of the better ones. This was one that you had to take yourself for your graduate program. There was no TA’ing involved as that would be a huge conflict of interest if you got to grade your papers. You chose to sit in the back corner of the class by the window, in hopes that when spring rolls around you could watch the foliage return. The unfortunate thing about this choice was the waiting. February was colder than you had expected and the windows provided no warmth.

When you were TA’ing you got to sit at the edge of the office and the classroom. Kiszka brought a space heater for you to place at the doorway. He joked he didn’t need his assistant ‘freezing to death’, because then ‘who would grade the papers’.

You tried your hardest to not let him favor you, but you knew he was someone who would be kind no matter how much you asked him to stop. He would leave books on the edge of his desk for you to read and when you tried to return them he declined and told you he already had a copy in his collection. You doubted that and always protested in fear that you thought you might lead him on. But in the end, it was always you walking out with a new book in your bag.

He was trying his hardest to get along with you. Some days it was easier and you would entertain his questions, but other days it was easier to be quick and move along. This relationship was not going to be a fairytale. You had already found your soulmate once, and you lost her. In your mind, there was no more room in your heart to let someone in. And why should you prepare space for someone if you truly don’t know if they want to be there?

This class although interesting became boring as the weeks went on. The class had fallen into a seasonal depression of sorts. Many like you had expected to have Meelo for the semester when you had booked your classes, so when Kiszka showed up and tried to shake things up… It wasn’t easy. He was skilled and smart, sure… But not the same. He craved involvement and wanted the class to join in with him, but often would push people further than they were willing to go. A room full of mid-20-year-olds was truly a space of burnout. Many of these students had already passed four, sometimes five years of school before they stepped into this class. They no longer have that lively interest in reading and analyzing literature but want to create their own.

“-And what was this author trying to convey through his use of metaphors?...” He asked from his commanding space at the front of the class, “No one?... No one picked up on this…? Or are you too scared to be wrong?”

Your attempts at fighting off eye-rolls also subsided the longer this course went on, and this roll came on hard. You’ve heard this line countless times through multiple classes. He wasn’t wrong, but he could at least find different ways to say the statement.

“Y/N? Care to enlighten everyone?” He calls to you, in need of saving the class who had lost attention nearly an hour ago.

“Sure. It’s a metaphor for how women are treated in society.” You answer.

He grits his teeth and sighs, “Not quite, but you’re close…”

You lift yourself from your slump, “No, that’s right. She is clearly trying to convey the expectations of women in society and how we are treated. As a female author, she leaves these metaphors to be very simple for female readers to understand. For males, it’s harder to grasp that the severity of these situations could imply the treatment of women, but that’s what she’s trying to explain.”

He clasps his hands together giving them a brief shake, “That class, that is how you analyze. Literature can be read in different ways by different readers. The author may have a clear intention of what they are trying to write, but others may be able to relate it to other aspects of their life. I have my own interpretation, and you all may have others. That is how this should be working. There is nothing wrong, with how you analyze, just that you have the knowledge to back it up…”

Every time you tried to make him out to be the bad guy, he ended up being in the right. You hated how smart he was. You hated how much you wanted to watch him while he stood up there. You hated how he wasn’t her. But you knew you didn’t want him to leave.

“So with that,” He continues, “Finish up the last few chapters and please come prepared with statements next week about your findings. I want you to dig deep; feel the author. I’ll see you next week.”

The class starts their shuffle for the door, while you meander to your usual spot at the doorway of the office. The next class wouldn’t be in for 20 minutes, but you would at least have time to warm up.

You click on the heater and walk over to Kiszka’s rolling desk chair. You take your coat off and rest it over the seat, pushing it over to the door. Kiszka finds his seat at the front of the classroom, pulling out his book of the week. He usually would try to follow you, asking you what you were reading, then the next day showing up to class with an identical copy. It was annoying and endearing how much he wanted to learn from you. You wondered if it upset him that you weren’t as keen on learning from him.

He confided in you that Meelo was an idol of his as well, and although he didn’t get to learn from her, he was going to try to through you.

You pull your copy of Anna Karenina from your bag and join him. Your chapters ahead of him, but you enjoy being one step in front of him.

You peep up from the back of the room, “I didn’t ask, but please tell me this isn’t your first time reading this.”

He lifts his head from the book slightly, eyes still skimming the page, “Third.”

You sigh in relief. That would’ve been embarrassing; for him.

You return to the book. You’re finding it harder to dive in today than usual, something is different… You see out of the corner of your eye that Kiszka has put down the book altogether, and you can sense him staring. This lasts a few moments, but you try to remain focused on the words, but catching yourself having to re-read the paragraphs; not processing the sentences you’ve already read.

A minute goes by and he hasn’t returned to his pages. Instead, you hear the squeak of his chair rolling over to his computer. A few clicks and a frenzy of taps on the keyboard.

“Hey.” He prods.

You look up again from the book. He peers at you over the edge of his computer and then closes it so he can see you better. He grasps his jaw lightly, stroking it in his hands.

“Yes?” You asked, trying not to seem annoyed by the interruption.

“Let’s go over your manuscript. I want to see it.” He continues.

No. It’s not time yet. You’ve been meticulously editing it for months now. He wasn’t supposed to read it until midterms, you were supposed to have more time…

You drop the book into your lap, “It’s not ready…” You close the book, “Also we have class in twenty minutes, you won’t be able to read it all by then.”

He stands up from his seat, straightening his vest out, “I canceled class. Pull it out.”

Two Hours Later

Some time had passed. You both sat in his office now. Him at… his… desk, and you still positioned by the heater at the door. At this point you were warm enough to finally take your sweater off, stripping down to a simple black t-shirt. You saw him staring through the pages when you pulled the sweater off. If he had looked any harder you think he might burn a hole through the book.

The office was silent except for the occasional click and clack of the heater, and the flickering of the candle on his desk. He flipped through the lightly bound pages while you continued through your reading. Every couple of minutes you could hear the stroke of his red pen hit the pages. The words or corrections will wait for you later. You could sit and scoff at them later in your apartment. The man said his favorite book was Lord of the Rings, how could you possibly trust his editorial judgment?

You had made it about a hundred or so pages through your book, which was slower than you would’ve liked. You still couldn’t breach the interferences. You thought the silence would help, but hearing his hums, his pen strokes, the occasional sip of scotch… It was all a distraction.

You couldn’t stop looking up from the book to watch him slyly admire your work. You knew your writing was good; Meelo had seen the early stages of it all. She heard the direction and loved every word… A complete sadness rushed over you thinking of how she would never see the final product.

Kiszka would adjust himself every few minutes; switching positions in his seat. You wanted to trust yourself enough not to look every time he shifted his hips, but those linen pants he loved so much left little to wonder about him. You had a closeness to him that you didn’t want to admit. As many differences as there were between you, there were just as many similarities. He was an outsider here; you could see that clearly. The other professors didn’t trust him because of his age- the students tried to walk all over him because of that too.

Even though you wanted to hate how pretentious he seemed, deep down you knew it was a facade to seem more studious to others. You saw the real him in glimpses. The kindness he offered to you that many others most likely wouldn’t have. Your youth and love for literature matched his perfectly, although you couldn’t always find the way to express it correctly. Your loyalty to Meelo prevented that at every chance.

Letting him read this manuscript was a big step that you didn’t fully even realize until he had reached the halfway point. You wanted to go and rip the pages out of his hand, throw them out the window, prevent him from seeing you too deeply… But something inside you needed to know what he thought of it.

Frustrated by your lack of progress, you lowered the book into your lap. You took this time to look around the room. It had changed so much since you had seen it back in December. Kiszka’s library had taken up the room, along with his record collection. When you would come by early in the morning to drop off the graded work, you would hear him playing some of it. Blues, rock, the classics. You never disturbed him during these times, it felt too intimate to interrupt. Instead, you would place the binder of essays on his classroom desk and scurry away before he could come to say hello.

You place your bookmark into the page opening. You calmly stand and place the book where you once sat. Quietly, you make your way over to his collection.

You see him peer up through the pages. Curious about your movements, watching you silently behind the manuscript.

You lower yourself to the floor, sifting through the jackets of the vinyls. Alphabetical. Of course. You make your way quickly through the a’s and land through the b’s. As cliche as it seems, you truly love Abbey Road, and of course, there it is front and center with the other Beatles albums. You pull it out from the shelf, removing the jacket carefully from the sleeve. You lift the vinyl out and place it on the record player. It’s a modern one, which feels very out of character for Kiszka. He always seemed like the type to randomly have every item of his be nothing newer than 20 years old.

You press play and lower the needle onto the music.

Come Together plays softly through the speakers. You turn to look back at him, seeing if there is any protest. Instead, he has the red pen out, slashing across the paper. You grit your teeth and try not to engage. You return to his collection, running your fingers along the remainder of the vinyl. The plastic tickles through your fingers, creating a click, click sound as each jacket releases from your hold.

Although you did want Kiszka to keep reading, you felt it was necessary to distract him, to try and persuade him to step away…

You continue from the vinyl collection, traipsing through the room. It’s like a library out of a movie, truly. You admired his office deeply and loved to gaze at it while he was lecturing. Sometimes when he was deep in his philosophy of literature speeches, you would lean back in the chair and try to read the book titles from afar. Your eyesight was good, but not good enough to make out the exact names of all of them. You never dared to peruse like this before, but this moment presented the perfect opportunity.

You were his captive for the remainder of his reading. Well… In all reality, you didn’t have to be here, but you didn’t dare leave that manuscript alone. It had been stored with you in your tote for the past month. You tried to take chunks of edits at a time, working through it yourself when you had time but didn’t want to share it with anyone until you felt that it was complete.

You tried to fight Kiszka off, but the notion of him canceling class meant that he found taking the time to do this very important…

The books that were displayed on these shelves were not the type of books that you would find at your local bookstore. They were older, worn in, some of them originals, even some you haven’t read yet. Maybe he did have some things that he could show you…

You make your way to the last set of bookshelves, rounding the back corner of the office. The last edge of the wall had his makeshift bar.

The liquor was all dark, amber-colored. Very manly, you thought to yourself. Bottles of whiskey and scotch lined the makeshift bar. Jack Daniels, Sazerac Rye, Macallan Double Cask… You recognized some of the labels.

Kiszka crept up behind you, “If you wanted a glass, you could’ve asked.”

He reaches down below you to fetch a rocks glass from the bar. He grabs the Macallan Double Cask and pours a finger for you. The alcohol flows effortlessly out of the bottle, barely splashing into the glass. He hands the glass to you, your hand brushing his. His touch is warm… Kind. He takes his other hand and grabs your shoulder, in a comforting way. You want to seem completely normal, but feel your cheeks getting rosy from the touch. You suck on your bottom lip and try to hide your face.

You take a large swig of the scotch, trying to be mindful of not wasting such a good drink. He looks at you, shocked at your ability to take it so easily.

“Wow. Good.” Is the only words he can mutter.

You smile meekly. The praise makes you feel undoubtedly shyer than you had just before.

“Are these originals?” You ask, pointing to the corner section of his library, “I couldn’t tell, and didn’t want to touch them if they were.”

“Many of them, yes,” He responds, “I trust that you would be gentle with them, please, which one were you curious about?”

You make your way over to the shelf, placing your drink down on the small table near the corner. You reach up to fold out the red bound book. Its title was completely faded from the binding, but we’re curious as to which one it was. He follows closely behind you, close enough to almost be on you.

He laughs, “Funny you should grab that..”

You open the cover to find Lord of the Rings printed in big black letters.

“Oh, dear god.” You sigh.

“It is an original if that makes you feel any better about it. I know you hate this book, but still-”

“No, no,” You protest, “I never said I hated it, I just said it wasn’t my favorite. Remember we have different opinions on that professor.”

He scoffs and takes the book from your hand. Rubbing the cloth binding with his thumbs.

“Want to know something funny?” He questions.

You did. You really did. You wanted the connection at this moment… For whatever cosmic reason it finally felt okay to banter with him. You nod your head, approving him to continue.

“I saw the movies before I read the books.” He laughs, “My brothers and I loved it, we were practically obsessed, but I was younger then and a stupid boy who didn’t read like I do now. Not the fairytale way most people find their favorite but it reminds me of childhood…”

You wanted to laugh, you wanted to make fun of him for it. But you knew that this was a special moment for him. A look into his past, a presentation for more. He places the book carefully back on the shelf, tucking it back into its spot.

“Well, I guess that makes more sense now. But, as a graduate professor, you ought to just say you like the pretentious shit. No one’s going to take you seriously.”

He turns from the shelf, “Who said I was worried about that? If I lie then I am a fraud. I don’t care if anyone says that.”

Oh fuck. His confidence is so intoxicating. He’s right. Why should he care?

“I just- I meant… I thought that the other professors-”

“You thought that they don’t take me seriously? Right. They don’t. In schools like this, you have to earn respect. I’m not an alumnus, I didn’t go to Harvard, but I do a damn good job at what I do. As much as you may protest some of my teaching, I know what I’m doing.”

He breezes past you and strolls back over to the bar to pour himself another drink. You reach back for yours and hold it between your hands, trying to collect yourself. You hope that you didn’t hurt him.

“Did I offend you?” You ask.

“‘Course not,” He takes a swig, “I just wish you would realize that it doesn’t matter what standards others hold you to. You are not someone else. You are you.”

“I know that.” You respond dryly. Your answer didn’t sound as confident as you wanted it to be. It came out unsure and desperate.

“Then why has your whole academic career been based on your relationship with one woman? Why must everything you do be for her?...”

You stand there silently. Completely struck with emotions. Anger, sadness, discouragement.

“She… She made me who I am,” You pipe, “She’s the reason I am in this program.”

He strolls back over to you, locking your eyes with his. It’s intimidating, this look he has on his face. He’s studying you, seeing how lost you feel. Truly for the first time you couldn’t even try to put up any walls. He had broken you down.

He places his hand on your shoulder again, “Can I show you something?” He asks.

Before you have time to even object to him, his hand moves from your shoulder to your waist, guiding you back towards his desk. You feel butterflies growing inside you.

No. You can’t. You shouldn’t. He is your advisor. He is not someone you should feel this way about. He’s trying to help you, he’s not interested in you.

The vinyl finishes its song and moves on to Something. He guides you into his seat. You place the glass down on the desk and wipe the condensation from your hands onto your thighs. He reaches over the desk and twirls the manuscript back in front of you. The pages sit open about two-thirds of the way through. He stands behind you, practically leaning on your back. His chest rests against your shoulder, pointing at the beginning of the page.

“See this paragraph here?” He questions.

You strain so hard to not melt at his touch. His hair is grazing your cheek. It smells wonderful, but you can’t admit that. He has this gentle but clean musk about him. He smells like a perfectly cared-for bookstore. A soft smell of tobacco and oak. The chains with pendants are draping over his neck, sparkling in the moonlight of the night, softly clanking together with his movement

You need to focus.

You respond, afraid that you waited too long, “Yes?” Your voice wavers, the lack of confidence creeping back through, “Is there something wrong with it?”

He turns to face you, “Yes. I have a big problem with it.”

You feel your heart sink. What could be wrong with it? The back half of the book is the best part, it is the part you feel most confident with. You feel confused. All of those walls and confidence you felt once in his presence were lost.

“What…? What problem?”

You look back at the pages, disregarding his closeness to you, pulling the bundle of paper back towards you, and flipping through to the previous pages. He puts his hand on yours, stopping you from searching. He lowers himself next to the seat, squatting to be at your eye level. His thumb wanders back and forth over your wrist.

He smiles a crooked and cunning smile, “It’s some of the best writing I’ve seen in years, and the author was too scared to even share it with anyone. She lost someone and had to do this all on her own. That’s terrifying, but it’s still her work. ”

You look at the hand holding yours. It’s strong but has a softness to it. It has a few rings sitting on them, but none a wedding band. You lower your head and release your wrist, grabbing it with your other hand. You sigh heavily and grasp your hands in front of the pages. Your hands travel up to hide your face, which presents a melancholic smile that you can’t let go of. You can’t tell if it’s the liquor or his presence, but you feel a glow coming from inside.

You rush your hands past your face and through your hair, resting your hands on the back of your neck. Scoffing, you turn to look at him. His amused smile is irresistible.

“You,” He starts, “Are an amazing writer.” His hand lifts from the pages and reaches up towards your cheek, holding your face in his palm, “And no matter who your teacher is, you can still do it on your own.”

Your hand finds its way up to his arm, holding him back. Staring longingly at each other. Both deep down knowing that this was about to lead down a path you couldn’t return from.

“Professor-” You initiate.

“Jacob.” He replies.

“Fine… Jacob. This- I… I don’t think.”

He quickly removes his hand from your face and comes to his senses. “Oh, dear, um… I’m so sorry y/n… I…”

You let yourself slump in the seat. How could you? How could you squander that moment? After years of wishing to find a man who was at least half as interested in literature as you… Here you are throwing it away. But you could be right to do so. He was your professor, you were his assistant, the moral implications of this all…

Jacob stands and leans back onto the desk, stroking his chin, concerned. Thinking about it all. You can see the nerves climbing through him. He feels embarrassed.

You reach your hand up to your face again, burying your emotions into your skin.

“I just thought- I, fuck.” He continues, “I thought we were turning a corner, I was looking and I thought I saw you-”

“You did.” You respond, “...I was looking.”

You lower your hand from your face to stare back at him. You put the manuscript back on the desk and stand.

“You… You were?” He searches for the answer.

“Jacob… For months I have looked. I didn’t want to like you. I didn’t want to admit that to myself. My mentor was my heart and soul, she was everything to me. I didn’t want to give you any chances because I didn’t want to lose someone like that again… I can’t handle that heartbreak. But…” You trail off.

“But?” He inquires.

You reach for the scotch glass and swirl the liquid around. Staring deep into the stormy amber.

“Fuck it.” You take the last of the scotch into your mouth and turn back to Jacob, “You… You are what I’ve wanted. I can’t deny the way I feel when it’s just us. When I see you deep in thought, when you push me to go further; when you challenge me. When we’re alone, and I see you for the man you are. When I see how genuinely fucking amazing you are. And I’m so mad at myself for not opening myself to you.”

Jacob peels himself off the desk and stances himself in front of you. He grabs your hands and holds them tenderly in his. You drop your head, your hair falling over your frustrated expression.

“You were grieving, you wouldn’t have been ready for this.” He reaches his hand up to tuck your hair behind your ear.

You look up to him with doe eyes. He was the older man, coming in for the prey. You wanted to be his. You wanted to have him. You wanted it. You denied it for months. You denied it from the moment you saw him. You denied yourself to knowing him in fear that this exact moment would happen. But here you were. Unveiling yourself to him in the very place you felt the first attraction.

“I want to be ready. No, I am ready. I want this. I can’t deny myself happiness because of everything that happened,” You said.

“Are you sure?” He asked. Trying to test you.

You nod your head in approval, trying once again to keep the emotions bottled in.

“I don’t want you to feel any pressure because-”

“Please don’t say it. I know. I know this is all morally fucked up, but I’m an adult, you’re an adult. Just treat me like one.”

He smiles, admiring your maturity, “If you want to do this, there are some things we have to settle first.”

You look up at him confused, “Things? What things?”

“More like rules,” He answers, titling his head playfully, “I need to know what you’re comfortable with. I don’t want to scare you even more than you already seem.”

He returns his hand to hold your face, just like he previously had only moments before.

“I’m not scared Jacob. What rules?”

“As much as I like to be gentle with women, I also enjoy being rough.” He says through a velvety tone

You jolt back, at first fearful of his words, but relax quickly, reminding yourself you don’t need to be scared.

“How rough are we talking…” You prod.

The cunning smile returns across his face, “Don’t worry, I don’t leave marks, at least too bad of marks… And only rough enough that you’ll still be wanting more by the time we’re done.”

You bite your lip at the thought. You’re no virgin at this point in your life, but you’ve never been able to explore this type of intimacy. Every man in college is practically an amateur at pleasuring women and even more so when it comes to exploration in sex. You’ve read plenty of books to know about the type of sex he was talking about. As much as you enjoyed the classics and the light-hearted romance, you still found yourself picking up a steamier romance book in private.

You wanted that. Had practically dreamed about it before…

Being here with this man, who was only a few years your senior, felt like you could practice this fantasy safely. He knew what he was doing, he could show you pleasures you didn’t even know you could enjoy. Even if you felt like you couldn’t learn more from your education with him, perhaps there were other things he could teach you. It was all becoming a bit too exciting.

His hand moves slowly down from your cheek to your waist. His palms gently grazed your spine until they locked in on your love handles.

“So,” He continues, “Are you going to be my good girl? Can you be good for me? Do you think you can take it?”

You reach out to his chest, moving aside his shirt which had barely been buttoned. With one swipe down his sternum, you unlatched all of them revealing his smooth golden skin. He watched you intently, seeing you explore his skin like never before. You traced your fingers along the opening, feeling your need to reach more grow. With each second that passed you felt the insatiable thirst to be close to him; to feel him. His grip on your waist tightened with each pass you made over his chest.

His other hand joined him on your opposite side. You feared that your hips may break with his excited hold. You looked up at him, biting your lip, trying to remain coy. That soft smile appeared on his lips; you had answered with your body language.

He pushes his hands further into you and lifts you onto the desk, your ass barely resting on the edge of the wood.

“Words,” He said, pulling himself closer into you, resting perfectly between your legs, “Nothing’s going to happen until you tell me you want it to. This isn’t going to work sweetheart unless you use your words.”

“Jacob-” Are the only breathy words that you can mutter.

You can feel him growing, feel the linen pants barely holding back his excitement. You feel your heartbeat travel from your chest, down into your stomach, into your…

His hand moves up to your jaw, holding it firmly in his grip, “Y/N, follow the instructions. Words. I’m not going to wait much longer.”

“Yes-”

Before you can even finish he’s pulling you into an embrace. Your lips meet his. The soft taste of scotch remaining on both of you created an intoxicating addicting feeling. It was complete passion, complete neediness to be one. His tongue introduces itself into your mouth… Soft, wet. Beckoning. The noises you both are making sound feral, completely unusual for the both of you. What once was a prim and proper relationship between you became a fervent desperation to touch… To fuck.

His hands traveled down your body, first reaching your chest, grasping you completely in his hand. Rolling his palms over the front of your breasts, driving you completely mad. You wished the barriers of clothing had been completely stripped away, but he was too hungry to even keep you waiting for long. His hands reached under your shirt, plowing underneath the wire of your bra to find your naked breasts. A soft relieving moan escaped your lips through the breaths of the kissing.

You reached your hands out to find the remainder of the buttons of his vest closing you off to his body. You made quick work of unbuttoning them, reaching your hands across his midsection; climbing to his back. Reaching up towards his shoulders, feeling the softness of his skin across the pads of your fingers. God, he was perfect.

His fingers traveled to your nipples, running his thumb and forefinger over the bud of your nipples. Before you could even realize what you were doing, your nails dragged down his back, raking into his skin. He paused the kissing for a moment to let out a moaning growl. He slid his hands out from your bra, slipping down to the edges of your shirt, attempting to tug it off as fast as he could. You snatched your hands out of his shirt to raise them over your head, giving him complete access to strip you.

He placed his hand between your breasts and forced you down onto the desk, your head falling onto the manuscript below you. He shook off his vest and was quick to pull his shirt off.

“Seems like I’m not the only one who likes it rough, huh?” He asked.

You lifted your head from the desk, “No, definitely not.” You responded. Unsure where this untamed version of you had even come from.

“No, sir” He stated, pushing you back down.

“What?” You asked, skeptical of what he meant.

He mounted himself once again between your legs, grinding himself into you. He traced his finger down your neck, to the waistline of your pants.

“Sir… That’s what my good girls going to call me, okay?”

You rolled your eyes, unaware that you were even doing so, “Call me Jacob,” you mock, “Call me sir.”

He reached back up to your jaw, pushing his thumb into your cheek, “If you’re going to be a brat we’re going to need to set some more rules. Good girls don’t get punished, but you’re already testing me.”

Completely stunned, you look back at him trying to emulate a softness, an apology. You had to admit though, you weren’t scared of him… If anything you were more turned on by the thought of his punishments.

“And how would you punish me, sir?” You ask in your best sultry voice.

He let out a low grumbling laugh. He studied your body, not even acknowledging your question, just thinking… Thinking of what he would do to you. He grabbed onto your hips and pulled you hard into his cock. There was no wondering anymore. You could feel how large he was, how excited he was. If your own body wasn’t blocking it you could probably see it entirely.

“Maybe,” He starts, “Maybe you’re not going to be my good girl,” His hands dig deeper into your waist, “Maybe, you’re going to be my little slut.”

The word echoed through the room. It sent a shiver down your spine, but not the feeling of being displeased, it was a feeling of being right. Being here with him, being under his control, felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off your shoulders. He could see you in a way that someone hasn’t seen you for months. He was learning every inch of you and would learn even more as the night went on.

He leaned down from his high position to plant gentle kisses along your neck. Gingerly leaving behind little reminders of passion.

“-And if you’re going to be my slut,” He whines through breathy kisses, “you need to know the safe words.”

You run your hands up to his hair, feeling the soft strands between your fingers. Tracing his scalp over your fingertips. You don’t want to go this slow, the breaks are killing you. You just want to feel him. You want to feel him on you, in you, taking you completely as his own.

His kisses finally reach the band of your jeans, but that doesnt stop him from exploring further. He pulls down on the jeans to reveal more of your stomach, delivering gentle almost tickling kisses.

“Green,” He whispers, “Means you like it… You don’t want me to stop.”

His hand travels over to the button of your jeans, popping the metal away from the denim. Your eyes follow him, watching his hair fall over your stomach, the metal of his necklace chilling your bare skin. His shoulders look strong here, masculine, powerful. Watching him focus so intently on you is killing you. This is a man unlike any other that you’ve been with, he’s focused on treating you first, even if there were some other pleasures in it for him.

“Yellow,” The zipper slowly starts to unravel as he pulls your pants further down, “Means you need me to slow down… If you need a break…”

Your pants steadily fall off of your legs, finally being exposed to him entirely until they fall onto the floor. The only thing separating you from him now is your thong. Which you are now praising yourself for wearing today. He resumes his consuming kisses across your midsection, joining back down where he had left off. His hands slip underneath him to grab the edges of the lace, sliding off the thong with ease.

His kisses start to graze you closer to your…

He stops and lifts himself. His hand leads up to your mouth, putting his pointer and middle finger into your mouth. You accept them, excited for what it means.

“Red.” His voice develops a more serious tone, “Means stop.”

He removes his now slick fingers from your mouth, returning them down below. His fingers reach your cunt, and you welcome him with excitement of your own. Your body is in shambles waiting, wanting to know what it feels like. His fingers dance across your aching clit, his thumb padding the bundle of nerves, sending shockwaves through your deprived body. A loud distressed moan escapes you, you can’t help but express your enthusiasm.

“Don’t worry sir,” You shudder through achy moans, “I don’t think I’ll need to use that one.”

“Good girl.”

Without any hesitation his fingers breach you, filling you up. He stands over you, watching you grow with the agony of pleasure. Your breath hitches with each pump, your back arching with each lift of his fingers. His thumb traces back over your clit, stimulating every inch of you.

Every attempt at communicating the feeling faulters, except for, “Oh fuck-”

Your body is shaking with each movement. He’s painting the perfect picture of an orgasm with just one hand. The power he holds, the knowledge he has. He knew how to please you better than you knew how to.

His free hand makes its way around your neck, gripping it, holding you in place so he can work harder at you. You’ve never been choked before, it’s a completely new sensation. The gasps for air were something you thought you’d fear, but instead, you were wishing he’d hold on harder.

“Green?” He asks, looking for permission.

You nodded your head ferociously

You feel yourself completely letting go under his control, something you feared once to let him have all the power. But here, now, held down to his desk… You never wanted it to stop.

“Words.” He barked.

Your hand reaches up to hold his wrist, “Yes, yes…”

“Yes, what?” He asks again, his fingers slowing their movement. Clearly, he wouldn’t be letting you get away with anything. You had to be obedient and do as he told you.

“Yes… Please, Sir,” You beg.

The words were getting harder to communicate. If he could finger you into oblivion, you might let him if it meant you could feel this good again.

He smiled in approval and resumed his previous pace. Steadily building faster, and faster. Harder and harder. You could feel how wet you were becoming, it really didn’t take much for him to draw the excitement out of you. The swirls of his fingers and the vigor of his motions were precise… Calculated, trying to accomplish only one mission; and he was close to succeeding.

Your moaning only got more frequent and louder, you couldn’t hold back. The pleasure was far too great to stay quiet. He almost let you be loud too, only for a few moments before reminding you of your location. He lifted his hand off your neck to lift a single finger to his lips and then pointed around the room.

“If my good girl can’t stay quiet, I’ll have to make her. We don’t want anyone spoiling all the fun.”

You nod your head, remembering you were still in his office. Your surroundings had escaped you completely; only thinking of him and you.

His thumb started to apply more pressure, practically begging for you for more. A softer moan forced its way out, helpless to be silenced. His hand plasters itself over your mouth, holding you silent. The pads of his fingers resting deep into your cheeks.

“I know baby, it’s so hard… You’re gonna be so good and come for me now, okay?”

Finally being relieved of speaking, you nod your head, ready for the climax. His fingers dive upward, grazing the sweet spot buried inside of you. The pressure, the sensation it’s all too much. You feel your belly tighten, your back arching. He’s trying to hold you steady as you writhe in pleasure. There’s no stopping anything now.

“Do it baby, come on… Be a good little slut for me…”

Your eyes roll deep back into your head. You feel the sweet sensation of release wash over you. Like a wave of ecstasy, traveling from your toes, past your aching clit, through your belly, all the way to your head. Stifled moans slip through the cracks of his fingers. His fingers stay at their steady pace, pushing past your orgasm. You feel yourself dripping around him. You’ve never come this hard in your life, you’ve never felt the devotion to make you feel this good. Your body is quivering around him, unable to shake the overstimulation. You’re squeezing onto his wrist, trying to come down easy, but everything he’s doing is making the sensations crash into you.

He takes his hand away from your mouth and you immediately gasp for air, trying to find serenity.

“Oh god,” You moan, “How did you-”

He shuts you up by taking his mouth to your soaked cunt, sliding his tongue through the mess he made. You place your hands beside you to sit up slightly. This was a sight you did not want to miss. You take his hair in your hands and tuck it aside. Each stripe of his tongue makes you wince, you want him to stop, but you can’t let him. It feels too good. It’s too much but just the right amount all at once.

He was consuming you, desperate to explore every inch of you. Wildly eating you up, trying to capture every last drop of his work. You were spilling into him, it was never-ending. It was like you weren’t even there; everything except your pusy. This was a high that you never wanted to come down from. He was devoted to keeping you there as long as he could, but you couldn’t hold on for more.

You fell back onto the desk, squirming through it all. He had you right where he wanted you. You let yourself fall into him, trying to take it all. Your hands reach over the desk, trying to find somewhere to hang onto, but instead knocking the scotch glass off the desk. Shattering loudly beneath you.

Jacob didn’t stop though, he was completely distracted, locked in. You couldn’t take it anymore.

“Yellow.. Yellow..” You begged, completely overstimulated and shocked. How could you even ask for that?... But it was impossible to withstand any more sensation.

He stopped slowly, easing you out of the enjoyment. His hands reached up over your thighs and rested on your hips, slowly petting them with his thumbs. He looked up at you through glazed-over eyes, completely drunk on your arousal. He didn’t want it to end.

Slowly raising himself back to a standing position, you could see how hard he had gotten. He felt just as much pleasure as you did. He was completely lost, coming back to reality. Chin dripping with your wetness…

He leaned back over you and kissed you sloppily. The passion was more fiery than before. You did something to him and he did even more to you. It was strange to taste yourself on his lips, but exciting nonetheless. You were caught up together. Complete and one at that moment. And then it all stopped…

Footsteps approached outside the classroom. You both stopped. He removed himself from your lips and raised his head to listen.

A knock at the classroom door.

“Hello?” Someone called out.

There was no mistaking that someone was in this office, between the music, the glass breaking… They knew.

“Everything okay in here Kiszka?”

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. He stands and reaches for his shirt, buttoning it with no haste. He grabs your shirt and pants and kicks them under the desk, “Go, get underneath the desk,” He whispers, “Now.”

#jake kiszka #greta van smut #gvf fic #gvf smut #jake kiskza x reader #jtk x reader #jake gvf #professor fic #gvf #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka gvf #jake kiszka series #jake kiszka angst #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet smut

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wandasfifthwife · 2 months

Text

a quiet mind is the devils playground

—ceo!wanda x fem!reader

tw: hurt/comfort, reader is described to have a form of toxic friends/bullies before, reader is described to have bad social anxiety, mental health spiral, angst w/ happy ending, crying, mentions of break up, Wanda is kind of snappy for a moment but apologizes :)

a/n: not proofread, I wrote this in like 40 mins lol— enjoy :)

Yesterday it feels like you had only just met her when you’ve known her for five years, plus three years of dating. What also feels like it was only yesterday, was knowing friends who cared to make it feel like it was hard to breathe, causing you run into the bathroom to try and compose yourself.

It’s years past, but your mind cannot forget the feeling. At any moment where it feels like history is about to repeat itself, you run away.

Wanda had stayed, helping you with your inner dialogue and discomfort with possible rejection. What she didn’t help plan for as when this feeling might be triggered by her.

Most jobs have their respective requirements to help the employee know what the expectations are if you wish to keep it. It was no different for Wanda, having a job that required the standard 9-5 as well as hours outside of work because accidents happen or something comes up.

It was accepted and expected.

You usually came and visited her during her work hours, choosing to drop by when you knew she had a moment in her schedule as well as yours. This time another woman occupied the chair you usually sat in.

“I’m sorry, am I interrupting something—I can go—“ you mumble, moving to shut the door.

“No, please come in,” the woman, you find out her name is Juli, replied, “it’s nice to finally meet you.”

She leaves a second later, telling Wanda that they’ll have to discuss it over lunch later in the week before heading out. Wanda had smiled and pulled you into her lap, asking about your day and everything else besides her felt less important in that moment.

It was a second time around that you saw her near Wanda. A hand on the counter near her, smile resting on her face as she listened to Juli explain something to her and a group of girls surrounding them. For the first time in almost half a year you felt a similar feeling stirring within you.

You wanted to run away.

Instead you didn’t. You stayed outside of the lunch room, sitting in a nearby chair and listening to everything happening around in the office. It would have been just fine to have walked in and stood by her, but it wasn’t too big of a deal, right?

Not like it really mattered in the end. She would come out eventually and walk alongside you back home. Unless it was an odd day where she didn’t and you had to walk back yourself.

The third time you felt all of the past insecurities rise when you began to stalk Juli on social media. A bigger following, trendy, beautiful, funny. The ugly feeling began to rise within you again, saying that she was going to leave you just as everyone else did before.

It caused you to cry that night, fear taking over as you wondered if your overthinking was right as it has proved to be in the past. She still came home to you. Still texted you. Nothing had changed but you. You were scared of the chance it could as it has before.

It was a rabbit hole, digging itself after one thought, one small action of seeing someone conventionally seem to have life better than yours caused you to spiral.

The fourth was going ahead and taking a day off to rest. It would help to be more active and think on the subject a bit. It would be better you thought to try again.

So you had, trying to reach out to her in multiple ways. Social, in person, but it felt stagnant as when it did with Wanda. It felt overwhelming trying to force a conversation out of her.

Were you ugly, is that why they’re not talking to you?

It was overstimulating. Three girls in front of you, all giving each other a look that made your eyes begin to burn and leg begin to shake. It felt all too similar.

You had left, saying Wanda was calling you but that was a lie. It was helpful, using it to propel you into shoving yourself out the door and going into the bathroom again.

Frustration and hurt lined your heart. You were being silly. You always overthought. You need to stop being this way, you’re causing a scene. You hate your personality.

It was spiraling again, a dry sob coming from you. Tears filled your eyes and you gasped for air. But it felt stupid, all of it so as quickly as it began it stopped. You were so close to going back out again, wanting to seek your girlfriend when the two of the three girls came in, laughing.

You had no idea if it was about you or not but you just had to be selfish again and assume their gossip was about you. It could have been about the third that wasn’t present, about Wanda— but your mind filled the blanks in with your name written all over it. You waited until you were sure they left before you too took your own leave, heading to your car and going home for the night to try and recover.

The fifth time was when Wanda had called you, voice curt over the phone asking why it feels you’ve been ignoring her. You had questioned in your mind whether or not to be honest, but you choose to keep it hidden— not wishing to worry her. It was apparently the wrong answer.

She had taken a minute to lecture you, wishing you would be more upfront and honest with her. She wished you wouldn’t lie, you did too. You don’t know why you’re this way but it caused you to tear up, the bottle inside you beginning to crack at the edges. It grew to be too much when she hadn’t stopped after almost four minutes.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” you sobbed into the phone, “I can’t be perfect. Okay, I know how much I mess up. I see it compared to other’s who have it come so easily. If you want that then why don’t you just break up with me?”

You ended the call halfway through her calling your name, hands pressing in your eyes as you again register what you just did, immediately regretting it like all of your other actions this week. It felt like it was too much. You needed time to go by, you needed to feel like you weren’t as annoying or using up so many “get out of guilt” free cards.

You don’t want her to break up with you. The thought alone had you crying again, reaching for the phone that was already ringing.

“I’m sorry,” it was the first thing that came out, “please don’t break up with me.”

“I’m not, pодная. Oh my love, how long have you been feeling like this? I’m so sorry for speaking like that to you.”

“Don’t apologize, please. I should be sorry for a lot of things.”

“You have no right to be sorry, you’ve done nothing wrong. I just spoke terrible to you, I’m so sorry, my love.”

You wipe at your face, head already beginning to ache with how hard you were just crying. You lean back into the bed, whispering for her to come home, and were pleasantly surprised when you heard her keys in the front door. She calls your name, face frowning even more when she sees you.

“I was able to get off work earlier today. When I called you earlier I was going to call and ask if you wanted to do something together but instead I took my stress out on you,” she says all of this while coming and resting beside you.

Your hand wraps around her waist, head comfortably on her chest, “I’m happy you’re back. Can we sit in silence? I don’t feel like talking.”

She hums, closing her eyes and rubbing small comforting circles onto the palm of your hand. You closed your eyes, shutting off another set of tears when you thought that this moment could have possibly never happened again. You shut it all off as you drifted asleep, smiling when you feel her kiss your head.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda x fem!reader #wanda x you #ceo!wanda x fem!reader #ceo!wanda x reader #ceo!wanda #wanda maximoff x you #wanda #hurt/comfort

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throneofsapphics · 7 months

Note

Part two to up all night? It’s such a funny idea 😂

up all night (part two)

(part one)

Azriel x Reader x Cassian

Summary: You, Cassian, and Azriel get into a small argument.

Warnings: a bit of suggestiveness

A/N: thank you for requesting it!

“You were at the Riverhouse,” Azriel commented, the corners of his mouth turning up. You weren’t really angry, but his amusement pissed you off.

“You weren’t meant to hear that.” Cassian said, distracting you from glaring at the shadowsinger.

“Oh?” You slowly turned your head back to face him. Cassian inhaled sharply, seeming to realize he’d said the exact wrong thing. “Maybe you shouldn’t talk shit about your mate.”

Azriel’s hand landed gently on your shoulder, drawing your attention back to him, “and you’re the one that said it,” you snapped.

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

You shrugged his hand off your shoulder. “Well,” you huffed. “Nobody likes a pissy Cassian.” You could almost feel the wince from the male in question, at how you said his name.

“Y/n,” he called as you stalked off to the bathroom. “It’s a compliment.”

You slammed the door anyway, hearing their hushed voices outside - too low for you to distinguish what they were saying. The smooth wood dug into your back as you slid down against it, sitting on the floor with your head held between your hands. You weren’t exactly fair to them, and knew it wasn’t meant in any harsh or derogatory way, but it still got on your nerves. Guilt started to sweep into you at how aggressive you’d been. You were always a gentle person, not really prone to snappy comments or arguments.

You shoved the thoughts away and rose back to your feet, quickly going through the movements to get ready for bed. The door creaked open behind you, and you spotted Azriel in the mirror. Your hand paused, halfway through brushing your hair. He slowly made his way over to you, stopping so just an inch was between your bodies. His scarred hand wrapped around your, and he tugged the hairbrush away from you.

“Let me,” he said quietly, and started working through the slight tangles in your hair. He was always gentle, making sure nothing would tug or make you wince. He methodically worked his way through, and you knew this was his way of apologizing to you. Azriel always tended to apologize through actions, or little acts of service, while Cassian would whisper them over and over again, until you told him to shut up.

“I’m sorry.” He said, almost quiet enough you didn’t pick up on it. A shadow swirled around your hand, a gentle and comforting caress.

“It’s .. I overreacted,” you admitted, begrudgingly, and watching his expression in the mirror.

“Maybe a bit,” he gave you a small smile, tugging on your hair when you rolled your eyes. “Someone else wants to apologize,” he whispered, kissing the side of your neck, and tugging you out of the room.

Cassian stood a few feet away from the door, looking vaguely like a kicked puppy, but his eyes lit up when he saw the soft smile on your face.

“I’m sorry-” you both said at the same time. He snorted and tugged you forward, wrapping you in a tight hug, propping his chin on the top of your head.

“How do I make it up to you?” He murmured.

“You could …” You pulled back so you could look at him, mischief crossing your features. “Keep me up all night, without getting pissy.”

“That’s a tall ask.” Azriel said from behind you, and you saw Cassian cutting a sharp glare at him. One hand tilted your chin up, and he lowered himself so he was a hairs breadth away from your lips.

“Deal.” You took a step away from him, shrugging out of his arms.

“Maybe next time,” you bit your bottom lip at the look of dismay on his face. “You have a meeting tomorrow.”

You turned, making sure to flip your hair over your shoulder, and crawled into bed. You vaguely heard Cassian grumble, and the bathroom door open and close.

Azriel slid into bed next to you, pulling you close and guiding you to rest your head against his chest. “That’s my girl,” you heard him say under his breath, and buried your face into him to hide a smile.

#cassian x azriel x reader #azriel x reader x cassian #cazriel x reader #cazriel x y/n #cassian x y/n x azriel #azriel x y/n x cassian #azriel x y/n #azriel x reader #cassian x reader #cassian x y/n #azriel x cassian x reader #acotar imagine #acotar x reader

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calypsocolada · 8 months

Text

9:15 A.M. | k. nanami

synopsis: a handsome man is very puctual at the coffee shop you work at. authors note: hi! in celebration of the upcoming shibuya arc (sadface, here's a lil fluff, might write a part two if the spirit posseses me. cw: fluff wc: 1.8k

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There was a man that came into your work almost everyday at exactly 9:15 a.m. He was never late, at least not on the days you worked. He was polite but never smiled and tipped you very well for someone only spending five dollars on a black coffee. You didn’t know his name, you thought it might be weird to ask. But he was tall, styled blond hair, sharp features and impeccably tailored suits. Which was why you called him suit. It wasn’t clever you knew that but it was the first thing you thought of and it caught on with you coworkers.

You liked seeing him, it helped that he was incredibly handsome, like one of those business men in romance movies, the ones that act cold but have secretly big hearts.

Sometimes you find yourself wondering about him. Was he married? It wouldn’t surprise you if he was. You also wondered what he did, did he sit at a desk all day, bossing around a bunch of college aged interns? He had to be the boss. The way he dressed, his impossible seriousness, you could see him running a stressed hand down his face after a long day, or through his styled hair, messing it up. His hand coming up to loosen his tie with deft fingers, leaning back in his expensive leather chair, exhausted.

“Earth to Y/n,” Your co-worker snapped her fingers in front of your face. You blinked a few times, shaking your head as if coming out of a dream.

“Yes, sorry, I’m listening.” You said apologetically.

“I was just wondering if you felt any better? Someone told me you called off yesterday.”

“I feel better.” You say with a smile. You had a migraine that kept you up the night before last, it wasn’t a big deal but you didn’t want to deal with snappy customers yesterday.

“That’s good.” Your co-worker smiles as the front door bell chimes, indicating a customer. Your eyes glance at the door and you see him. You glance at the clock. Right on time. “Your favorite customers here.” Your co-worker teases in a low whisper as you shoot her a quick glare. Suit approaches the counter as your eyes meet and your face lights up in a smile.

“Good morning, the usual?” You ask as the man purses his lips slightly giving you a nod. You push off the counter, spinning around to make his order. “It’s nice outside today,” You say over your shoulder. You always tried talking with him but he didn’t say much, he seemed very mysterious, that or maybe he wasn’t a morning person.

“It is.” He says and you hear him pulling out some cash from his wallet. Sliding a lid on his coffee you turned back around to hand it to him. He reached for it, his fingers brushing yours. “Are you feeling any better?” He asked and your eyes snapped up to his.

“Hmm?”

“Your co-worker,” He started. “She told me you were out sick yesterday.” He said and for a moment you're stunned, you're not sure you’ve ever heard more than two words from this man and it has been months that he’s come in here.

“Oh that,” You wave your hand. “Bad migraine.” You say and he looks at you and nods.

“Drinking plenty of water then?” He asks and you laugh softly.

“You sound like my father.” You joke and see the corner of his mouth quirk up, he breathes out a small laugh. Your brows raise at the sound, stunned at this entire little conversation.

“I’m glad you feel better.” He says warmly as he hands you the money.

“Thank you.” You smile, putting the cash into the register and handing him the change.

“That’s your tip. Keep it.” He says, tilting the cup to you before turning. You pause to watch him leave and when he disappears past the windows you look down at your hand.

“Did he just give you a forty five dollar tip?” Your co-worker chirps behind you, you startle at her voice, breathing out a laugh.

“He sure did.” You answer, sticking the money into your aprons pocket.

“He’s not married by the way.” She says as you turn to face her.

“What?”

“Suit’s not married. He doesn’t have a ring.” She points out.

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Well if he was and I was his wife I would divorce his ass because the way he looks at you should be considered an emotional affair.” You blush to your toes at that comment, turning from her as you roll your eyes.

“Come on, no he doesn’t.”

“He does. Not to mention he asked about you yesterday, that’s why I told him you were out sick.”

“Liar, he did not.” You argue.

“He totally did! He looked worried for you too.” She jests as you slap her arm slightly. “You know what he tipped me yesterday?”

“What?”

“2 dollars! He usually gives you ten.” She pouts as you start laughing. “He totally has a crush on you.”

“A crush? Stop… He doesn’t. He’s just nice.”

“Yeah he wants to be really nice to you up against a wall maybe.” She says as you press your hands over your face in embarrassment.

“Go away.”

“Ask him out. I dare you.” She pushes.

“No! I don't want to make him uncomfortable.”

“Trust me, he won’t be.”

“No.”

“Come on! Live a little. When’s the last time you went on a date anyways?” She asks and you think genuinely about it. It had been months, maybe even closer to a year. “I know you find him attractive, you probably want to-”

“Don’t finish that sentence.” You interrupted, sliding into the stool right by the counter.

“Ask him out or I’ll do it for you.” She says and you stare at her hard.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

But she totally would, which is why you find yourself incredibly nervous the next day as you watch the minutes tick by. 9:13. You blew out a nervous breath, tapping your pen against the counter.

The worst he could do is say no but nevertheless it was still completely nerve wracking. You could barely sleep the night before. You put your shoes on the wrong feet and accidentally wore your jacket inside out, then you missed your bus and had to jog to work. It had already been a long day and you’d only been here for just over an hour.

The door chimed. 9:15. Damn, the one day you wished maybe he wasn’t so punctual. When you looked up your breath caught. He wasn’t in his usual suit and tie. He was in gray sweatpants and a tight black shirt with what you were assuming was his college’s name across his chest, not to mention his hair wasn’t styled back, it was falling onto his forehead. You let out a breath you were holding in, your throat dry as you forced a smile and hoped you didn’t look like a maniac.

“Morning,” You greeted.

“Morning,” He said back, giving you a warm smile. A smile! He never smiles. You are momentarily taken back by the smile as he approaches the counter.

“Were you out for a run?” You croaked out as he nodded his head, his hand coming up to run his hand through his hair, his shirt riding up slightly exposing a very toned stomach. You forced your eyes up, a blush coming to your cheeks. “Your usual?” You ask.

“What would you recommend instead?” He asks and your brain stutters.

“Me?” You ask and his mouth quirks up. He looked entirely too handsome.

“Uh huh.”

“Uh-- I don’t-- Maybe, uh-” You stutter, feeling like a fool but he doesn’t cut in or look impatient. “I don’t really drink coffee.” You say and he tilts his head, his hair falling on his forehead slightly.

“Tea?” He asks and you nod your head. “I’ll take your favorite then.” He says, reaching into the pocket of his sweats to fish out his wallet.

“Okay, coming right up.” You try not to sound nervous as you turn, working quickly. It seems like today really isn’t your day, you burn your hand as you fix him the tea and drop the glass, cursing in pain. You turn to grab ice.

“Did you burn yourself?” He asks, voice concerned.

“I’m sorry, your drink will be right out.” You say as he smoothly walks around the counter.

“Not worried about that right now.” He takes the ice from your hand. “May I see?” He asks, he’s so tall up close, and he smells like pine even though he should smell like sweat. You nod your head as his fingers gently turn your hand so he can see the burn. He turns on the faucet. “Ice won’t do the trick, you need cool or lukewarm water.” He says, feeling the water before gently pulling your hand under it. You're both so close, his arm brushes against your shoulder.

“Am I gonna live, doc?” You ask as the man laughs, you made him laugh twice now and each time it stutters your heart. He looks good serious but even fucking better when laughing and smiling.

“I think you’ll live.” He says.

You wrap up your hand and finish making him the tea, this time carefully without injuring yourself. You slide it to him across the counter and he picks it up.

“It’s green.”

“It’s matcha.” You smile, watching him pull the cup to his lips, taking a slow careful sip. He lets it ruminate before humming slightly.

“Mhm, it’s good.” He says and a giant smile slides on your lips.

“You like it?” You ask.

“I do. I should’ve asked your favorite a long time ago.” He says, pulling out money.

“Oh, you don’t have to pay, it’s on me.” You say but that doesn’t stop him.

“I insist.” He says, pulling out a one hundred dollar bill.

“Please, after helping with my hand it’s my treat.” You say but he hands it to you anyways.

“Well, consider that my tip then.” He says. “That’s too much, sir, I can’t,” You start. “It’s Nanami.” He says and you realize that he’s told you his name. He’s known yours this entire time due to your name tag.

“You're too kind,” You say, sliding the money back to him. “I’d feel like I’m robbing you.” He doesn’t make any move to grab the money, just takes another sip of his matcha.

“It’s hardly robbing if I’m giving it to you.” He says with another warm laugh.

“I can’t take it. I’m sorry.” You say, and he nods his head.

“How about a date then?” He says and you snap your eyes up to him. He has that serious look about him again.

“A date?”

“Mhm.” He nods.

“You and me?”

“Ideally.” He smirks and your entire body blushes. You wondered where all this confidence came from, but honestly it didn’t matter. You liked it.

“I get off at 8.” You say and you see his cheeks blush as he smiles at you.

“I’ll pick you up then.”

#jjk x reader #jjk #jjk nanami #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami kento x reader

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liminal-space-lesbian · 2 months

Text

Bg3 Ladies needing comfort after a bad day

Request: So for the BG3 headcanon or blurb requests what about a little thingy where the Lady’s of the game have a bad day and need lots of comfort from their Tav. 🥺

A/n

Honestly idgaf if Lae’zel is ooc, my baby is secretly going soft. Sorry guys!! I believe she actually has feelings deep down <3 Also mild spoilers if you haven’t finished the Crèche questline

Also Karlach is so babygirl omg if someone doesn’t give her a hug rn I SWEARRRR

Karlach:

Karlach had spent the entire day fighting off various enemies, who were unfortunately harder to defeat than expected. And right as she’s settling down for the night, finally getting a reprieve from the day, Raphael shows up.

He’s yammering on about how he wants to strike up a deal with you, but you cannot send him away fast enough. Seeing a devil only dredges up bad memories for your lover, and you do not want her to have to relieve the memories of her torture in Avernus.

“Come here baby, it’s alright just try to relax.” You coax, seeing the tension in her body once Raphael leaves. You coo, gently taking her into your arms. Her head buried in your chest, strong arms wrapping around you tightly as you rub her shoulders and the back of her neck. You ease the tension out of her muscles, kissing the crown of her head.

She finally lets the tension leave her body as she breaks down into tears, quietly crying into the fabric of your shirt. Small sobs wrack her shoulders, sending an aching pain lancing through your heart. You can’t stand seeing her so upset.

“I fuckin’ hate demons. No good ever comes of ‘em. Promise me you’ll never even consider Raphael’s deal.” She pleads, and you’re quick to reassure her. “I promise, I’ll never make a deal with a devil. I love you too much to risk it.” You whisper into her hair as you place a gentle kiss on her temple.

You cuddle her to sleep, allowing her to wrap herself around you entirely. Lord knows a decade of not being able to touch anyone without scorching their skin off leaves a girl touch starved. You tuck her in as cozy as she can get, and pepper her face with gentle kisses as she drifts off. Your heart aches for the suffering your lover has endured, but all you can do is be here now to support her.

Shadowheart:

Shadowhearts wound on her hand had been flaring rather badly all day, and unfortunately you had to travel past an abandoned temple of Shar. All the memories- or lack thereof- cause Shadowheart’s mood to sour. She seems snappy and short tempered, but when you visit her tent later you see her curled into a ball and cradling her hand.

“Oh sweetheart.” You murmur, getting on your knees beside her, resting a hand on her shoulder. She sniffles, obviously trying to hide her tears. You shush her, gently lying behind her and wrapping your arms around her. She rolls over and cuddles into your chest, crying more freely now.

“Why did they have to take my memories? Sometimes I don’t even feel like I know myself.” She whimpers, and your heart shatters. “Oh baby, I’m so sorry.” You whisper, kissing her forehead and wiping away her tears. “I know you, and I love you.” You murmur, rubbing your hand soothingly up and down her back as she tucks her head into your neck. You spend the evening wiping away her tears and soothing her as best as you can.

Lae’zel:

Lae’zel doesn’t get upset, she gets angry. It’s how she was raised, channel every feeling into anger. Anger fuels strength, and only created a stronger more tenacious fighter. So when Lae’zel finds out the truth about Vlaakith, she’s angry. Enraged. Furious. Not hurt.

Lae’zel definitely doesn’t cry when she’s alone in her tent that night. She also definitely doesn’t crawl into your arms and bury her face in your shoulder. Your touch is the only balm to the aching in her chest.

“Tsk’va, look at me. So weakened by the betrayal of a false god.” Lae’zel grits out between tears, fists clenched firmly in your shirt. Her anger is directed at herself, as if it’s her fault she was fooled along with every other Gith.

“Darling, it’s not your fault. Vlaakith tricked everyone. I know her betrayal hurts, and you have a right to be upset. Im so sorry you have to deal with something like this.” You coo, kissing her forehead and wiping her tears. She scowls and pulls away from your touch, but only to roll over so she can be little spoon.

She doesn’t speak for the rest of the night, but you feel a bit of tension melt away from her muscles. The next morning she’ll wake as if nothing happened, but for now she burrows farther into your warmth, seeking your comfort.

Dame Aylin:

Aylin’s mood took a turn for the worse when she heard Raphael had proposed a deal to you at Sharess Caress. She had already spent the day overstimulated from the noise of Baldurs Gate, a stark contrast to a century in shadowfell, where the only sound was the wind and rumbling in the distance. Now that you told her this? She was pissed.

She stomped off to be alone, saying she just needed time to think. You could tell by the stiffness of her posture she was upset, more than just angry. You gave her some space, but when she finally returned to your tent to go to sleep, you confronted her.

“What’s wrong darling?” You coax, your expression soft as you open your arms for her. She hesitates, her pride and stoicism holding her back for a moment. Her hesitation is short lived however, as she heaves a sigh and flops into your arms.

“I’m just thinking of my time spent in shadowfell. Raphael is a devil, simply a reminder of the evils in this world.” She pauses, heaving an irritated sigh. “After being trapped in that soul cage for so long… sometimes it feels as though I’m still there. Not physically but… in my mind that place haunts me.” She admits quietly, and you think you hear her voice quiver.

“I’m sorry Aylin. You didn’t deserve that. If I could take away all your pain I would.” You murmur, hugging her a bit tighter as you look in her eyes. You see tears clinging to her lashes as she swallows thickly.

“I know you would. And I love you for it.” She whispers brokenly, nuzzling her head into your shoulder as she clings to you. She pulls away to place a deep kiss on your lips, reveling in the comfort of you.

“Try and rest Aylin, you need sleep.” You coax, easing her to lie back. She complies, allowing herself to get comfortable as she slips off to sleep. For the first time in weeks she doesn’t have a single nightmare.

Isobel Thorm:

Isobel was drained after narrowly escaping being kidnapped by Marcus. She pumped all of her magical abilities into the shield around the Last Light Inn, as well as blessing you and your companions to ward off the shadow curse.

You could see her bottom lip quiver as she climbed into bed, and she instantly cuddled into your side. You turned towards her, gently cupping her face in your hands.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You ask gently, and she simply shakes her head, blinking heavily as tears flow freely down her face. You brush the tears away with your thumbs, nodding as you kiss her forehead. You take her into your arms and let her cry it out.

You rub up and down her arms soothingly, allowing her the space to let out her feelings. Eventually her cries taper out, and soon enough she’s drifting off to sleep. You carefully make sure she’s tucked in perfectly before resuming your spot, cuddled up to her for the night.

A/n

If this is bad it’s bc I’ve been awake for 17 hours, sorry peeps 😔

#bg3 requests #bg3 #bg3 karlach #bg3 shadowheart #bg3 lae'zel #bg3 dame aylin #bg3 isobel #dame aylin x reader #isobel thorm x reader #isobel x reader #karlach x reader #shadowheart x reader #lae’zel x reader #fem reader #hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending

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phefics · 2 months

Note

🐌 Congrats on the followers well earned! 🥳 What about Astarion and #32 "I think I'm in love with you and I'm terrified." Thank you! <3

𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐚’𝐬 𝟏𝐤 𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 // omg yesss....tysm for the request!! xx 32: “I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.”

"What has gotten into you?" you ask, brow furrowed in frustration. "A few days ago, you were crawling into my bed, and now, it's like you can barely even look at me!"

Astarion scoffs. "Is that really what you're so worked up about? I thought perhaps the tadpole was starting to turn you with how your eye has been twitching all day."

"This isn't funny," you reply. "Not everything is a joke, especially not my feelings. You seemed to be emotionally committed, when you told me that you wouldn't be the part of any love triangle. I chose you. So why won't you choose me?"

To your embarrassment, tears had sprung in your eyes and began to drip down your cheeks, making you feel like a child having a tantrum. But how else are you supposed to feel, after receiving his silent treatment?

His face softens when he sees your tears. "Darling, I—You haven't done anything wrong."

Your reply is cold, snappy. "I know that I haven't."

"I'm just...Dealing with some emotions that I haven't felt in over two-hundred-years, so if you could have a little patience while I process that, I would appreciate your selflessness."

His sarcasm is so typical, it makes you want to scream. "What fucking emotions? The impending doom of these tadpoles? Everyone in this camp feels that, and at least the others actually speak to me."

Astarion doesn't yell, like you'd expected. In fact, his usual smirking, handsome face is gentle, his eyes round and sad like a kicked puppy's. "I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified," he says.

You freeze. It's like all the air has rushed out of your lungs and left you gasping, except no sound comes out, your mouth doesn't move. You just stand there, blinking at him like a fool for a moment.

Finally, you manage to speak. “We face unimaginable horrors on a daily basis, and you’re afraid to love me?”

“Horror, I’m used to. Love is something else entirely, something I don’t remember experiencing…Until you.”

He steps closer, outstretching an arm to wrap around your waist, pulling you in. "It has nothing to do with you. You are everything that I want, it's just...Hard for me to admit that. To act upon it. And I'm sorry, if I made you feel like I was angry with you."

An apology from Astarion's lips is rare, and so you know he must mean it. You've finally regained the ability to speak, and so, you softly say, "I love you too. I'm sorry I yelled at you."

"That's quite alright, darling. I know you just missed my beautiful face between your—"

You cut him off with a kiss.

#💌 𝐈𝐍𝐁𝐎𝐗.#bg3 blurb #baldurs gate 3 x reader #baldur’s gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion bg3 #astarion #ophelia’s 1k celebration #ophelia's blurbs

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sorastage · 9 months

Text

i’m not yours!

rejecting randoms that hit on you. lucifer / mammon.

leviathan / satan

lucifer ☆

while on an outing with him, you get separated for a bit. you’ve gone off to a cotton candy stand and you’re counting all the cash you have.

you realise you don’t have enough spare change…

“fuck… i don’t have enough.” you say to the vendor, but as you’re about to walk away, a random demon slams some cash down and pays for your food.

“it’s okay my dearest! i’m here to help the cutest human ever out.” he proclaims, as he flings his arm around your neck while forcing the cotton candy cloud into your hands.

“who the fuck are you? i don’t need you paying for my shit.”

“don’t get snappy with me. i could rip your heart out in a second.” he snarls, practically spitting onto your face.

“are you insane? if i called lucifer right fucking now you would die. immediately.” you spit right back at him.

his eyes look above your head and he suddenly starts sprinting in the other direction.

“what..? i’m not that scary!” you turn around, and notice that lucifer is standing right behind you.

“so, you’re using my name to scare off demons. you’re lucky i was here before anything really bad happened.” lucifer smiles while looking at your shocked face.

“i was handling it fine by myself! i didn’t need your help!” you start to protest.

“yeah. sure. whatever.” he grabs your free hand and starts to pull you away from the stand, where a crowd of demons have gathered.

“you should hold my hand so you don’t get hurt. and eat your cotton candy before it melts.”

mammon $

after him relentlessly bothering you to come and spend time with him at the casino, he ignores you to play infinite a few rounds of blackjack.

bored of watching him go on a losing streak, you take off to the bar.

as you state your order, someone suddenly puts their arm around you and says, “it’s okay babe, don’t get your purse out, it’s all on me.”

you turn round and see a demon waving his card around while grinning at you.

“no, that’s fine. i’m here with my boyfriend, i don’t want to give you any ideas…” you try to reject him nicely, as he doesn’t seem like that bad of a demon.

“well my darling, your boyfriend doesn’t have to know…”

what?

“do you know who my boyfriend is?” you ask, trying to save this man the embarrassment.

“probably no one worth worrying about. definitely broke too. just take the drink and come with me sexy.”

ughhh, what a disgusting creep!

“this is your last chance. i’m being nice. go home.” you warn him. whatever happens next, is not your problem.

the demon’s face twists into one of rage. he grabs your arm and tries to drag you out of the casino.

you lean forward and bite his arm as hard as you fucking can.

“get off me!” you shriek.

he screams in pain and yells obscenities at you.

he lurches towards you and there’s a loud bang.

“mc?? are you okay? i heard you screaming and- i saw this guy- i’m so sorry for leaving you alone-” mammon starts to freak out as he checks your body for injuries.

“i’m fine. just a bit shaken up… he tried to get me to cheat on you with him! he’s crazy!”

hearing this nearly drives mammon off the edge of the world, but he tries to stay calm in front of you.

“yeah. he’s fucking insane if he thinks you would ever leave me for him. you know what? let’s take his cards and get out of here? how about that swanky restaurant that opened near here?” mammon shakes the beaten demon down for his cards.

he kneels down and asks the near-unconscious demon, “what’s your pin?”

he takes the credit cards with the highest limit then announces,

“this guy’s pin is 8463!”

as a flock of demons start to crowd the man, mammon takes your hand.

“just stay close to me next time. i don’t want this happening again, you hear me?”

“wait. i have to do something very important.”

you take the drink the freak bought you off the counter and dump it onto him.

yes. maturity at its finest.

————————

idk, maybe i’ll do this for the others too.

i hope i’ll see you again ღ

thanks for reading ☆

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theemporium · 8 months

Note

ooh, looked at all the prompts and uh “It’s not like this with them.” with trevor? please and thank you

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

“Can you please come pick him up?”

“Jamie—”

“Please. You know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t an emergency.”

When you had settled down on your couch earlier that weekend, you had expected to have an easy night in. You had a frozen pizza ready to be demolished, a bottle of wine in the fridge and a new season of a tv show you vaguely remembered the plot of to keep you entertained for the night.

Now, somewhere after midnight, you were driving through the roads of Anaheim to go collect Trevor from some bar that Jamie had set you the address of. Usually, this wouldn’t have been a problem. In fact, you probably would have laughed at the whole time and teased the boy about it in the morning.

Usually being the operative word.

Because you actually hadn’t spoken to Trevor for around a week now.

It was stupid. So fucking stupid. You weren’t sure if the fight bothered you, or if you just felt stupid for asking the question in the first place. But you never thought it would have blown up the way it did.

You and Trevor had been seeing each other for a while now. Weeks of texting turned into late night phone calls even when he was on the other side of the country. Hang outs in his flat turned into fun dates where he absolutely spoiled you.

Nobody had made you feel the way Trevor did.

You had been at his and Jamie’s flat like you usually were on your day off. You had ordered takeout, watched a movie, cuddled on the couch and then you two were just talking. It hadn’t even meant to be a heavy question because honestly, you thought it was obvious. After the dates and the texts and spending almost every day since you had met talking in some way, you thought it was so fucking obvious.

So, does this mean I can call you my boyfriend now?

A casual question that turned into a full blown screaming match between the two of you until you had left the apartment in tears in the middle of the night and he had stormed off to his room, slamming the door loudly behind him.

Neither one of you had spoken or seen each other since then.

Until now.

“I’m sorry—” Jamie started but you just shook your head.

“It’s fine,” you said with a strained smile as the defenceman helped you get the boy into the car.

He was drunk. Maybe drunk didn’t even begin to cover how fucked he was. He was smashed, absolutely fucking gone and it was not a new sight. Since the night of your fight, he had been on a downwards spiral. Usually it was just snappy comments to teammates or trying to instigate more fights on the game they had a few days ago.

But it had never gotten to the point of him drinking his feelings away.

“You came for me,” he giggled as he slumped in the car seat, turning his head to stare at you. “I didn’t think you would come for me.”

“I came because Jamie asked,” you stated simply, keeping your eyes on the road instead of the boy next to you.

Surprisingly, Trevor had stayed silent for the rest of the drive, which was very unusual for him. Usually you couldn’t shut him up, even when he was drunk. But the boy hadn’t spoken a peep.

He didn’t say a single word as you helped him out of the car, his arm thrown over your shoulder and your arm wound around his waist. He didn’t say a word as you helped him into your flat, guiding him towards your spare room. He didn’t say a word as you handled him a glass of water and ordered him to drink it.

He didn’t say a word until you turned to leave.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled as his hand darted out to grip your waist, to prevent you from walking away. “I don’t like fighting with you.”

“You seem to like it a lot when you’re sober,” you couldn’t help but bite back. A week of emotions were bubbling inside you, and you couldn’t make them stop.

“I didn’t mean it,” he admitted to you, his eyes blinking slowly as he stared up at you with those damn puppy dog eyes. “I didn’t mean any of it.”

You swallowed the lump in the back of your throat. “Then why did you say it?”

“I got scared,” he confessed in a shy voice, one that was so unlike him. “Usually I don’t really care and everything is just a bit of fun. Usually girls say it and I just let them say it. I let them call me their boyfriend.”

You tried to ignore the way your heart pinched. “So I just didn’t make the cut?”

He shook his head, tugging you closer by your wrist. “No, no. It’s just…it’s not like this with them.”

Your brows furrowed together in confusion. “Like what?”

“You make my heart go really fast,” he murmured as he looked up at you with big, glossy eyes and pouty lips. “And I feel like I always have butterflies when you’re near me. And it should be so fucking scary but…I don’t think it scares me. I like it. I like it a lot. I like you a lot and it scared me that I wasn’t scared. It scared me that I wanted so much more with you and I didn’t know if you’d feel the same.”

Your features softened. “Trev—”

“I promise I didn’t mean it,” his voice was quiet and raspy. “I don’t like fighting. I don’t wanna keep fighting. I don’t wanna lose you.”

“You’re not gonna lose me,” you murmured as you shifted your hand out of his grasp, moving to push his hair back and watching as his eyes fluttered shut with the action. “Get some sleep. We will talk in the morning.”

Trevor looked like he wanted to argue but he was cut off by his own yawn. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

#trevor zegras #nhl #anaheim ducks #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras x you #trevor zegras x y/n #trevor zegras fic #trevor zegras one shot #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot

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m-ayo-o · 10 months

Text

Mr. Fushiguro [I]

flirtation and humiliation with your professor part one | part two wc 2200

You have a meeting with Mr. Fushiguro, your personal tutor, this afternoon regarding your dissertation. You're dreading it a little, not only because you're unsure what your project will be, but Mr. Fushiguro is also incredibly intimidating and attractive. You often feel nervous during his seminars, or passing him in the corridor, but being alone with him makes you pretty anxious.

Despite feeling nervous, you arrive outside his office a few minutes early so as not to displease him. He hates tardiness. It seems as though he can hear you hovering outside his door as your knuckles hesitate inches from the wood. “You coming in or what?” You hear his deep voice, muffled from the inside.

You enter, a little startled, and step up to his desk as he flicks through some paperwork. He looks up at you as you stand fidgeting near the chairs on the opposite side of the desk. “Sit.” He mutters and returns to his work. The quick glance he gives you with his striking green eyes is enough to make your heart rate increase as you take your seat.

You feel intimidated by everything he does, everything he says, and it's like he knows you're so weak for him. The way you blush under his gaze and your shy glances at him give you away. You also avoid spending time with him alone, not without him noticing of course.

In fact, he notices and takes advantage of this. He often requests that you stay behind after lectures, just so he can talk to you some more, usually about your studies or just pointless small talk. He enjoys watching you squirm.

But today he can't be avoided. You fiddle with your skirt and wait patiently for him to finish what he's doing. As the clock ticks over to 4pm Mr. Fushiguro sets down his papers he was marking and straightens up in his chair, looking up at you with his piercing green eyes.

“Y/n,” he greets you like he's only just seen you, “remind me what our meeting is about today.”

“I need to decide… what my dissertation project will be, sir,” you reply.

He taps his pen on the table, “Mm hmm. That should be easy for someone like you,” he strokes his neck then stretches his arms over his head, desperate to move after sitting down for too long.

“So, have you had any thoughts, y/n?” You look down, feeling flustered as his muscles flex, his shirt pulling tight over his chest. “Um…” You murmur and twist your hair.

“Look, did you come here for a chat or not?” He asks flatly. Mr. Fushiguro is impatient and snappy at times, which adds to his intimidating personality.

“S-sir, it’s not that I–” you start, unable to find your words as you look up at him again, watching his lips curl into a slight smirk. He’s enjoying the embarrassed look on your face as you can barely look into his eyes.

“So, what is it then?” His voice sounds rough and deep. You look down into your lap again, then try to look up at him, “I, I– I’m sorry, sir. I’m a little stuck for ideas at the moment. Can we discuss this over email?” You blurt out your excuses, unable to withstand his intense glaring for a second longer as you suddenly stand and turn, ready to bolt for the door.

“Y/n.” Mr. Fushiguro’s deep voice stops you in your tracks. He steps around his desk and sits on the edge as you turn to face him. He raises his finger and beckons for you to come back. “I told you to sit. I don’t remember permitting you to leave just yet,” he says as you step back towards him, your legs quivering as you fight the urge to run.

He pats the chair that’s right below him now, encouraging you to sit in front of him again– this time much closer. Although you feel like you're being ensnared in some kind of trap, you sit and peer up at him as he gets comfy on his desk, one leg lazily dangling off the edge as the other props him up. His trousers fit him so well– you can see his defined thigh muscles as the material stretches over him.

“If you’re not going to talk, then I’ll have to start.” He looks down at you with a smile. “I’ll begin with a question– one that you should easily be able to answer. Why do you act like this around me, y/n?” He asks as if it’s the simplest question in the world.

“A-act like what, sir…?” you trail off, realising that he’s going to be dissatisfied by this non-answer. “Don’t answer my question with another question, y/n.” He snaps predictably, furrowing his eyebrows. He waits, tapping a big finger on the wooden desk and raising an eyebrow at you. You know he won’t repeat himself.

“Ok, I’ll try an easier question.” His expression shifts from displeased to curious as he peers down at your blushing face. “Do you find me attractive?” You look down as your hand covers your face. “I-I…” you stumble. “It’s very simple. Yes or no, y/n.”

“Mr. Fushiguro… I, I…” you feel so embarrassed– he must get a lot of attention like this and you figure he might be fed up with it by now; young, inexperienced women fawning over him, unable to express their feelings to him. You presume that he finds it all very bothersome and tiring.

So you try your best to get your head clear and speak to him properly. “Yes, sir.” You say quietly as you look up at him again. “Very good.” He praises you, smiling slightly at your answer. “Now, another question: do you want to fuck me?” He asks flatly.

You can’t help but take your bottom lip between your teeth, looking up at him pleadingly as if to say, please don’t make me answer that. He’s just doing this to humiliate me. You think as you put off answering him for just a little longer.

But his intense eye contact indicates that he wants you to answer right now. You nod, looking away from his eyes. He sighs and taps his finger on the desk, waiting for you to answer him properly.

You sigh, your cheeks and nose blushing pink. “Use your words, y/n. You’re usually very good at expressing your thoughts in class.” He encourages you.

“Yes, sir…” you manage, feeling totally overwhelmed with shame. You can’t believe he made you admit that. Out loud. You just want to disappear. “Well done. Now that we have that cleared up, would you like to talk about your dissertation project with me?” He asks, sounding insincere as a snarky smile spreads over his features.

He knows you can barely form sentences right now, let alone think about your third year research project that will carry most of your grade for your final year and overall degree. You let out a sad sigh, “I, I don’t think I can… right now…” you admit as you look down. You must look pitiful. That just adds to your embarrassment.

“So, you want me to fuck you first, then talk about your project?” Your heart skips a beat. What the fuck did he just say? Your mind is racing– you presume you didn’t hear him right as you look up at him with wide and confused eyes. There’s a long pause before you murmur, “E-excuse me, sir?” You feel your lip trembling.

He really doesn’t like repeating himself. He just sighs through his nose, his patience clearly wearing thin. He gazes over your body, his eyes trailing up your long legs and hovering over your short skirt. His eyes snap up to meet yours, “If you’re having trouble with that, perhaps you shouldn’t be on my course.” He hisses, looking down at you menacingly.

“Y-yes…” you manage, your voice wavering as you don’t know what he’ll do once you’ve answered. He’ll probably kick me out, or maybe he’ll remove me from his course.

“Yes, what?” You can’t take it anymore; the long pauses, the deafening silence, his fierce glaring have all got you feeling feverish. You close your eyes tight, “I want you to fuck me first, Mr. Fushiguro!” You blurt out, finding it easier to talk with your eyes closed.

“That wasn’t too hard, was it?” He asks, then pauses, tapping his lip with a big finger. “Shall we see just how badly you want to fuck?” He almost lets out a chuckle, his scar curling over his lips.

You’re so close to letting out a whine as you wait silently in trepidation. “What shall I have you do… ah, first please lock the door, y/n.” You sigh in relief and stand to complete your task.

“Ah, ah…” he stops you, shaking his head, “on your knees.” He sneers. Fuck. You should’ve known it wouldn’t have been that easy. Your big eyes look into his, silently asking him do I really have to do this? “If you don’t want to do it, you can leave.” He says simply, giving you your answer.

You turn and try to pull down your skirt a little, earning a low chuckle from your professor as you look back at him with wide eyes. You know he won’t budge. He’s made up his mind and he’s going to have some fun with you before he fucks you. You’re not even sure if he will fuck you.

You slowly bend down and get on your knees as you begin crawling towards the door. You lock it, turn to face Mr. Fushiguro again and start to stand up. He doesn’t move, he doesn’t say a thing, but his piercing eyes stare you down, forcing you back onto your knees. He intimidates you so much.

“C-can I stand up, sir?” He just shakes his head, his eyes following you as you reluctantly lean over, revealing your cleavage to him as your shirt drops.

In the meantime, he’s tilted the blinds and turned on his desk lamp, illuminating the room as you kneel near your chair, wanting to stand up. He looks down at you with a smirk as he’s ready to give you your next instruction.

He makes you tidy his desk, organise his papers, books and stationary. Although this situation is embarrassing, you’re very aware of the fact that he’s turning you on by ordering you around. He’s getting you hot without even touching you.

Next he asks you to sit in his chair and unbutton your shirt. You’re a little hesitant, but you comply, unfastening each button slowly, pausing as you reach just above your bra. “Did I tell you to stop?” He asks, his gaze unfaltering.

You undo one more button then hear a knock at the door. You freeze, sitting below Mr. Fushiguro as he leans on his desk, “Answer it.” Your fingers frantically attempt to button up your shirt. Mr. Fushiguro clicks his tongue, demanding your attention as your eyes dart up to his.

“Did you hear me say ‘do up your shirt then answer the door’?” You shake your head. “No, you didn’t. So answer it like that. You can walk this time.”

Your shirt is barely covering your lacy bra underneath as you answer the door and explain that Mr. Fushiguro is busy. You make some excuses as you quickly close and lock the door again, stepping back towards his desk.

You feel your professor's eyes all over you as you walk towards him. He stops you halfway back and makes you hike up your skimpy skirt. “I can’t believe you decided to wear that to my office.” He shames you for wearing the short skirt, which is kind of revealing (but really cute).

He hands you some books and asks you to place them on the second to top shelf on his bookcase. You can just about reach, tiptoeing and stretching up, but the reason he asked you to do this is becoming apparent as you feel your skirt lifting up further, exposing your cute underwear as your back arches, your ass pushing out.

You're really struggling with one of the books. It's so heavy, your delicate fingertips are having trouble pushing it the last few centimetres onto the shelf. The book suddenly slips from your fingers and falls to the floor, making a loud slamming noise in the quiet office.

You hurriedly bend over to pick it up and try again, but you can hear Mr. Fushiguro clicking his tongue behind you. “That's an expensive edition, y/n. Let me see it.”

You step over to him, his large frame looming over you as you hand him the book, his fingers brushing over yours. He examines the cover, “Looks like you'll have to be punished.” He shrugs and sighs, setting it on his desk.

You try to make your excuses but your professor isn't listening. He beckons for you to come closer. This is the closest you've ever got to Mr. Fushiguro; you feel his breath fanning you and you notice the faintest wrinkles on his handsome face. You stare up at him with wide eyes, daring to meet his.

pt two 💞

toji | m.list

#toji fushiguro smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #professor crush #humiliation k!nk #toji x you #toji x reader #toji x self insert #teacher x student #teacher smut

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