#professor snappy

[anachrennism]

remember everyone, when I vague about my personal annoyances with a post I see on tumblr you HAVE to check the bottom of the post or else you won't see the part where in the tags I perfectly articulate my exact opinion on the matter with 100% clarity and zero room for debate

[what-is-love-babey-dont-hurt-me]

I’m going to singlehandedly destroy the world

[nightssideblogofshame]

I love how, according to official pokemon lore from scarlet and violet, pokemon from the past could cause an ecological collapse due to this incredible power they have, but pokemon from the future could ALSO cause an ecological collapse from an incredible power they have, meaning that present day pokemon are the absolute fucking worst there ever has been or ever will be, historical low point, went downhill so far it can now only go up, like what a fucking thing to say about my magician cat

[werewolf-apologist]

me and the guy i pulled by being god awful at social interactions

[darklight-owl]

Speaking of A i'm gonna do the same thing that I did to them to Eggmuffin Professor Layton (design them myself and add more and more headcanons until I claim them as my own because the canon information we have on them is so incredibly sparse that if I want to put them in ANYTHING i have no choice but to do this)

[butcherb1rd]

my large wrinkly son

[siriuslovebot]

˖ ࣪⭑˖ ࣪𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒚 𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑 ➸ 𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒖𝒔 𝒍𝒖𝒑𝒊𝒏˖ ࣪⭑ ˖ ࣪

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 𝑨𝑵𝑶𝑵𝒀𝑴𝑶𝑼𝑺 𝑨𝑺𝑲𝑬𝑫: more remus x mouse please!!! i adore them!!

𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑺: mentions of insecurity, post full moon remus is a little snappy, the nickname 'mouse', insomnia, crying (this is all quite lighthearted i promise)

𝑺𝑼𝑴𝑴𝑨𝑹𝒀: after remus snaps at the reader one day, some insecurities in their relationship come up.

𝑨/𝑵: hi loves! after the massive outpouring of love i had on mouse, i received this request and knew i absolutely had to write more of remus & mouse. this is written in the same universe, so to speak, but can be read as a standalone if you like. this one isn't nearly as long as the last, but it's just a little something that i wanted to write. if you'd like to see more of this pairing, just let me know and i would be happy to oblige!! as far as the warnings go, there's no real angst or anything just some insecurity on the reader's part. if that bothers you then please skip this one! as always, i hope you enjoy!

𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑫 𝑪𝑶𝑼𝑵𝑻: 1.9k 𓂃♡₊⭑

·͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺

a slot of light slips through the curtains across the room, the faint moonlight shining directly over your eyes. a tiny huff leaves your lips as you flip the other way; sleep has escaped you for the past hour. you’d awoken, heart pounding, from a nightmare, and have been awake ever since. it’s a wonder you haven’t woken marlene or lily with your quiet grumbling and frustrated sighs. 

you curl into your bed, entangling your body in the duvet as you stare at the wall of your dorm. your eyes trace the cracks in the stone, the dim light illuminating their details just enough to distract you. you attempt to count them, hoping maybe it will help lull you to sleep. after what feels like hours, you give up. another annoyed grunt leaves your lips as you flop onto your back to stare at the canopy above your bed.

the problem is: you’ve been suffering from this insomnia for the past week now. ever since the last full moon, you’ve been worried sick. of course you’re used to dealing with remus’s touchy moods around the full moon; you’ve seen how short he can get with other people, how he becomes quieter and more reserved, how he sleeps more than usual. still, he’d never been that way with you, even when he was clearly at the end of his rope mentally and emotionally.

earlier in the week, you’d been excited to share the lesson he missed that morning in care of magical creatures. professor kettleburn covered mokes, displaying their remarkable ability to shrink themselves to near invisibility. it wasn’t unusual for remus to ask you what he missed in class– so you thought it’d be fine to volunteer the information. unfortunately, it seemed he was still on edge after his latest transformation.

you’d taken a seat on the end of his bed, placing a hand on his leg. you greeted him softly, knowing how exhausted he usually felt. he laid there, arm covering his eyes, and said nothing. you took this as an opportunity to begin speaking. there was no response from him for a moment, before he moved his arm, blinking his bleary eyes as he barely sat up.

a sickly-looking expression occupied his features. his sleeve rose a bit and you noticed another fresh wound.

“can you please just… leave me alone?” he said, voice cold, before collapsing back onto the bed. he shook your hand away from his leg and curled into himself.

“are you okay, rem?”

“go. away.” his words were punctuated sharply, turning almost venomous. you flinched, your entire morale crumbling to dust beneath the weight of his words. 

your stomach churned, and you cleared your throat. “o–okay,” you mumbled. you were out of his dorm in a flash, your feet carrying you as fast as possible downstairs.

“hey, y/n–” sirius tried to catch your sleeve, but you pushed past him, out of the portrait hole without a word. the tears were brimming already, your throat tightening as you made every effort to get as far away from everyone as possible. you hated how much it could upset you; remus was not mean, and you knew that. he would never hurt your feelings on purpose, and you knew better than to bother him when he wasn’t feeling well. still, it stung. 

even worse, you weren’t brave enough to bring it up when he finally returned to classes as normal. as he sat down beside you at breakfast, you wondered if he even remembered it at all. he greeted you amicably and bumped his knee against yours as he settled into his seat. but he didn’t wrap his hand around yours like normal. he wasn’t leaning in to whisper his witty remarks while the others were distracted. remus is not an obviously affectionate man in the first place, but you have grown used to him showing his fondness for you in quiet ways. brushing your hair behind your ear, carrying your books to class, holding doors open for you. 

now, moping in your bed, you feel even worse about everything. since that morning, you worried that you annoyed him to the point that he didn’t want you anymore. maybe he just preferred you as a friend. that idea hurt even more. blinking, you try to push the thought out of your head. alas, you are nothing if not an overthinker, and the pestering thought will not go away. your one remedy is exactly the person you don’t want to face. 

you realise you are in a predicament; being so obstinate, you don’t want to scurry off to remus’s dorm and pour your heart out after feeling so slighted. on the other hand, you’re afraid that your newfound relationship could fizzle out right beneath your nose. you’ve always heard that communication is key, but revealing your anxieties to remus feels too vulnerable. almost foolish. 

ultimately, you decide to choke down your pride. the floor is cold beneath your feet as you slip out of bed. you force your limbs to move across the room, tip-toeing to the door. you wince as a stirring noise comes from across the room, then the sound of marlene’s hoarse voice.

“y/n? y’okay?” her words are slurred with sleep, muffled by her pillow.

“fine, marls. go back to sleep.”

she does just that, her breathing falling back into its steady rhythm. you slip through the small gap in the door, padding downstairs as quietly as possible. 

by the time your feet hit the stairs up to the boys dormitories, you’re starting to question your decision. it’s stupid, you think. there’s no way remus would snub you on purpose; surely he would just up and say it if he was no longer interested… right? 

it takes every ounce of willpower in your body to force yourself up the stairs. you take them one at a time, breathing deeply to ease the growing anticipation. it’s a wonder no one can hear your pulse quickening, your shaky breaths. standing at the door, you stare at it for a second. you can turn around this second and pretend you were never there. but wouldn’t it only make things worse?

a second passes, and you raise your hand to knock. you stop yourself. it would be rude to knock at this hour; you’d wake all four of the boys slumbering peacefully inside. instead, you hope not to wake anyone as you gently push the door open, peering inside. four forms occupy their beds, their silhouettes rising and falling gently with each breath. the light from outside the window barely illuminates the room enough for you to creep around the mess on the floor. you grit your teeth as one of them mumbles in their sleep; your eyes find james’s form, rolling over lazily in bed. he’s still sleeping, thankfully.

you step over a pile of books on the way to remus’s bed, and try not to startle him. it seems you already have, as his sleepy voice comes muffled from his bed.

“y/n? is something wrong?” 

the sound of him calling you y/n sends a pang through you. as much as you complained about being called ‘mouse,’ it made you feel special whenever remus used your childish nickname. 

“can’t sleep,” you mumble stupidly, your knee bumping into the edge of his bed. “sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.”

“of course y’did,” he says, voice thick with sleep. “y’weren’t coming in here just to stare at me…” he turns over, his bleary eyes finding yours in the darkness. he lifts the duvet, scooting over to make a spot for you. you climb onto the bed, but hesitate before laying beside him.

“what’s wrong?” he reaches for you, long fingers wrapping around your wrist. his thumb traces the inside of your wrist, gentle against the skin. he doesn’t tug you down, which you would appreciate if it weren’t for the full view he was getting of your upset face. 

“are you mad at me?” this whisper is quieter than the last one, if possible. your eyes shine with tears, and remus’s face falls into a heavy frown. 

“what are you talking about, m’little mouse?” 

your heart seems as if it’s going to explode for a second; you force your gaze away from his face. you can’t stand to watch the way his brows pull together, the way his lips drag down into a frown, the concern softening his warm eyes. a lump the size of the castle has grown in your throat, and you want to hide your face more than anything. 

“i just–well, after the last full moon, it just… seemed like you didn’t want to see me anymore. i know it’s a lot to deal with, and i shouldn’t have bothered you–”

“hey,” remus cuts you off, his voice soft. little choking breaths and sobs are interrupting your words, and tears cloud your vision to the point that you can barely see him in the darkness. “you never bother me. c’mere…” he sits up, pulling you into his embrace. he’s warm, his scent enveloping you in a blanket of comfort. it’s astounding just how much he’s soothed you already, your crying quickly calming to dull hiccoughs. 

“so you’re not mad?” you breathe, your face tucked into his neck.

he laughs quietly. the sound is barely audible, but you feel the rumble of his chest. “no, mouse.” his lips press against your temple, and you melt into him. you close your eyes, feeling more restful than you have in days. “‘m sorry i was short with you.” he holds you close, cradling your head as you finish calming down.

“can i stay here with you?” you ask, after what feels like forever. you look up at him hopefully, face flushing at the adoring look in his eyes. 

“‘course y’can,” he says, moving over even though there’s plenty of room for you already. “poor mouse, you look exhausted.” he brushes your hair out of your face, and you nod weakly.

“i haven’t slept properly for days,” you mutter, tucking yourself into his side as you settle beneath the duvet. one of your hands slips under the hem of his shirt, his skin warm against yours. 

“i wish you would’ve said something sooner.”

“i know. i just–” you huff “--i was embarrassed. i didn’t want to scare you off.”

there’s his laugh again, sweet and sleepy. your stomach does a flip.

“oh, it’d be hard to scare me off after i saw you turn into a mouse–”

“rem!” you say, voice sharp despite the quiet. his stomach rumbles with light laughter, and you shake your head.

“okay, sorry,” he says, grinning. “let’s not wake the guys up. think sirius’ll have my head for disturbing his beauty sleep.”

you mumble your agreement, closing your eyes. it’s about time you got at least a few hours of good sleep. the room is quiet for a second, just slow breathing.

then, from james’s corner of the room: “what about my beauty sleep, moony?” 

there’s an eruption of giggles from your bed, and you bury your face into remus’s neck to stifle the sound. 

“sorry, prongs,” remus says, sheepish.

“yeah, yeah, you old sap. go to sleep, or i’m recounting this whole thing to sirius in the morning.”

“oh, please don’t,” you plead quietly.

there’s a grumble from across the room. then, “what are you gits up blabbering about?” it’s sirius, his voice gruff.

“nothing, pads,” says james. “going to sleep.”

you say nothing, cheeks burning as you settle down, curling against remus’s frame. sleep finally finds you, sweeping you off into a dreamless slumber.

[krashoutluv]

Arkham Knight Relationship HCS !! <3

( light nsfw, mostly SFW tho!! )

literally my wife ( i made this pic idc abt creds i just wanna talk abt it)

SFW !! <3

dying on this hill when i say basically any red hood would be soo yummy with a civilian or just someone who is extremely balanced.

im a red hood needs more fucking normalcy in his life TRUTHER.

relationship starts off slow, romantic and platonic, you need to be patient with him long enough for him to get over his mental dilemmas to feel ANY-TYPE of way towards you.

more then like 6 months lets be real yall

his way of bonding is quality time. ill die on this hill, especially at the start of the relationship. Nothing huge maybe just spending a couple extra minutes around you before leaving.

next is probably gift giving, esp with early relations, probably just gonna order you food or put fifty bucks on your countertop. you dont even notice until you realize you find a fifty around the last place he was standing. expect deliveries from R.H whenever he feels bad for something.

doesn't like being around for too long, feels like he's messing up something. ruining your day by keeping you up late (he was there for fifteen minutes), ruining your mood, (there was an awkward silence for like 30 seconds.)

not a overly conscious thought process though, he feels physically he isn’t supposed to be there. for whatever subconscious thing he picked up on, a awkward silence, or hes been there 15 minutes too long or something

well sometimes he'll mentally beat himself up.

he spirals a lot, needs someone to pull him out of that.

i think when he needs to be grounded, its not just comfort its making him feel alive in the present moment. he's never gonna truly forget about his traumas but maybe for just an hour or two; running around an arcade, walking around the city. just making him feel normal, yeah you BAGGED his ass quick.

he needs someone patient, really patient, someone whos very attentive and empathetic. (but not a complete push- over def needs someone to set him in line still)

i think if you move to quickly, he'll get super snappy and ghosting you,, ong put ur hands on him too early and he's left hooking you.

yeah you're waking up and the first thing your hearing is "Its been 12 years..."

second thing you hear is "you've been in a coma for.. 12 years."

third thing you're hearing is, " we think a bus hit you...”

obviously not touchy, even when he is settling down. hes just not sure how to .. or where to .. or why he wants too.

please his mental gymnastics get so crazy, just sit down with him and put on some silly ass movie so he stops

when he’s settled he cant pry himself off you though.

a lot of his expressions can definitely be told by his body language, naturally hes tense but theres certain habits he has when he's maybe thinking too much, or fustrated/irritated.

but he does all of the same for you, comfort, love, as much as he can he tries

Very attentive, has a mental list of 'shit you do when somethings wrong' or 'shit you like.'

doesn't consciously make any of these mental list, he just knows.

"didnt they say they liked this?" He pauses "shit ill just leave it at their window."

so he's like canonically smart as shit.

you have too much work from your boss or professor? hand it over its done in less then two hours.

literally buys you groceries and pays your bills (fucking lover boy.)

arkham knight finally figuring out how to ask for a hug (hes been dead silent for 5 minutes) (link) <— insta reel

HES A CHEM/HISTORY NERD FOR SURE

NSFW !! <3

probably- A FUCKING VIRGIN !! HES A NERD !! GETS AWKARD AS SHIT. WITH RAGING COMMITMENT AND TRUST ISSUES !! (will still die4you tho)

AGAIN, not in a "my soft squishe potato always been scared of sex" way but in a ‘oh my god hes so unsocialized’ way.

yall ever see a big ass dog just..standing.. literally him (hes dissociating)

genuinely dont believe that when he was arkham/training to be, he was sexually or romantically involved with anyone. the last thing that was on his mind was actually pursuing a sexual or romantic relationship.

along with his trauma, he just wasn’t comfortable with any of that.

ghosted so many people..

couldn’t flirt for more then five minutes, just stopped feeling it or got uncomfortable .

I AM ANTI ARKHAM KNIGHT BEING A SEX GOD

not that he’s horribly awkward, but he’s noticeably a bit more quiet for first times.

ofc this man has watched porn n’ shit but hes smart enough to know thats not what its really like.

he’ll still figure it, what makes you tic, what you love, what makes you most comfortable.

kinda shitty at dirty talk, just makes him buffer.

he gets better at it tho, too damn good

gets so snarky and confident about it too uuhgrr

late relationships hes smirking and chatting your ears off cause you know hes gettin you turnt.

he has a love-hate relationship with his scars. 95% they remind him of his past, but 5% hes alright with them because they’ve shown what hes been through.

deep, deep, deep, deep, deep down, he knows hes fine as fuck. TRUST YALL.

again, super observant and attentive. really pays attention to what you enjoy.

I genuinely don’t believe hes into super hardcore/painful kinks or anything.

Sex for him is definitely a way of showing his trust and intimacy with someone!! Let him show you how much he loves you and how much he wants to make you feel good! Do the same to him !!

mmm tell him how good hes doing and hes a absolute mess!!

praise him! PRAISE HIM *im yelling from the hospital bed im strapped down on*

wouldn’t let you ride for awhile, but once he’s comfortable with it ,, he’s actually obsessed.

cant see him bottoming , just wouldn’t be comfortable with it

my brain is getting messy so im stopping here! feedback and comments would be cool if you wanna drop some!

[erinlindsayy]

professor || carol danvers

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ . ┊ You're Carol's designated note taker, and usually the one teaching her a few things. What happens when you give her the wrong set of notes?

➺  warnings: dirty talk, spanking, edging, violent use of straps, carol danvers tops (but I fully believe she's a switch now), umm... general unholiness, bratting, etc.

✧   a/n: surprise... I'm back... more content coming soon... I promise I've got a val/carol/r fic coming soon, but this popped into my head and I couldn't resist... JOCK COLLEGE CAROL, OK? JOCK RUGBY COLLEGE CAROL.

↬ like this work? let me know! comments help encourage writers to write more and let them know that you liked what they wrote :)

★ requests are open–I write for a number of fandoms! just ask :)

☆ comments + reblogs are greatly appreciated ☆

“Can any of you attempt to discern meaning from this week’s assigned reading? Why might I have selected this particular work for you all?” asks Professor Valkyrie, starting class for the day. Your hand immediately raises, and she nods in your direction. 

“Well, was not Beckett’s entire point to find meaning in the absence of conventional meaning?” 

Professor Valkyrie, nods. 

‘Interesting thought,” she says. “Care to elaborate?”

“Well,” you begin. “Beckett created a landscape for us that is so alien and foreign, and unlike what we know. The play does not include any symbolic elements, and it does not really go anywhere. You might try to make meaning out of the carrot that Didi and Gogo share, or the leaves appearing on the tree, but they literally mean nothing. At the end of the play--we, as well as Vladimir and Estragon, are all still waiting for Godot. So, in a sense, there is no meaning, but perhaps there is meaning in the fact that there is no intended meaning.” 

“Good,” replies Professor Valkyrie. “As always, a carefully articulated and thoroughly crafted response. Excellent work as usual.” 

You smile politely, and fall back into your seat as Professor Valkyrie continues to lecture about Samuel Beckett and the wonderful nature and reality of Waiting for Godot. 

Meanwhile, you’ve jotted at the top of your notes, in big bold letters ‘I hate this play!’ 

After all, the ability to just to understand and converse about a work of literature does not mean that one has to enjoy it. 

After class, you’re stopped, as usual, by the one and only  Carol Danvers. Resident jock, captain of the division one team, aspiring pilot, rumored sex god extrodinare, Carol Danvers. She’s quite the legend around campus, but not exactly for her work ethic as it pertains to academic pursuits, which are... lacking, to put it politely. 

“Do you have my notes for me,” she asks, holding her hand out. “I need to at least act like I’m going to study tonight, right?” 

You roll your eyes. “Carol, why do you ask for my notes if you never use them? You do realize that mere possession of the notes will not translate into you understanding the material, yes? You have to actually read them in order for the information to enter your head.” 

Your reply is snarky, short and snappy, but you’re fed up with Carol at this point. She asks you for notes in all the classes you share together (which, granted, is not many,) but never seems to read them or take any of her classes very seriously. Carol narrows her eyes at the response. 

“I’ll just sleep on them? Os--” 

You cut her off, finishing her sentence. 

“--mosis does not apply, Carol. You know that. You cannot absorb the material through the pores of your skin. Read the notes, and actually try for once, or stop bothering me. I could be taking notes for myself, rather than focusing on summarizing all of the lectures so that you can stuff them into your bag, never to see the light of day again. Don’t ask me for notes again unless you’re ready to be serious.” 

With that, you hastily pull out a few papers from your bag, not bothering to double check if they were the correct ones or not. You shove the papers into Carol’s and turn away sharply, not bothering to look back. Granted, you were headed in the completely wrong direction, but you weren’t about to give Carol the satisfaction of seeing your face again. 

Of course, Carol knows that you hardly need notes for your own purposes. Summarizing the lectures for her provides you with the information you need to keep your own mind sharp, with years of literary study and reading filling in the blanks to broader context for you. But still, you love to hassle her. Carol does feel guilty occasionally, knowing how much work you put into the notes you take for her. They’re always organized, and you write important little tidbits down in the margins. She always glances at them, but can never bring herself to actually study the notes. 

Tonight is different. Carol is inspired, reenergized by your scathing talk. She sits down at her desk, and finally pulls out the notes you gave her. She reads the first line, and laughs to herself. 

These definitely weren’t the notes she meant to give me, she thinks to herself. 

_______________________________________________________________________

You’re startled out of your evening study session by a loud ding from your phone. Normally, you wouldn’t check your phone in the middle of studying, but you’re intrigued. 

Your jaw drops slightly when you notice that the text is from Carol. 

8:57 hey. I’ve got a question about the notes

You’re shocked. Carol actually... read the notes? 

9:00 Shoot for it. How can I help? 

9:01 Well. The notes weren’t really on Waiting for Godot

9:04 Oh. Did I give you a repeat copy of last weeks’?

9:05 Well, I wouldn’t exactly say that they’re standard academic notes

You roll your eyes at her comment, typing out a harsh response before deleting it and sending a far more cordial reply. 

9:06 Oh? 

9:07 Well, for starters, I don’t think that Waiting for Godot has anything to do with sex. 

Attached to her text is a picture of your recent exploration of the things that turned you on, or as you aptly named it “An empirical study of the things that make me wet.” 

You’d never meant for anyone to see it, ever. It was purely a list of the things that you desperately wanted to try, things you enjoyed watching and reading, various things that interested you. 

You’d written the list mostly as a joke, as a way to get the ideas out of your head. You wondered how it even found your way into your backpack, and you’re ready to curl up into a ball and cry when Carol texts you again. 

9:13 I could help you, you know

9:14 I have a few things that I could teach you

9:15 What do you say we make a deal? 

You swallow thickly, intrigued. 

9:17 What sort of deal? 

9:19 You teach me literature. 

9:21 I’ll fulfill your deepest fantasies. (And take you out on a date ;) )

You blink slowly, unable to process the words appearing on your screen. A date? Lessons in sex? It all seems to be far too much to handle, and you’re not sure if Carol is serious. The prospect is alluring, however, and you can’t help but admit that you’ve had the tiniest (largest) of crushes on Carol ever since you saw her in that signature leather jacket of hers, kicking her legs up against the desk in front of her, even if your feelings were against your better judgment. You knew she was aware of this fact, and the way you were always angry around him for some odd reason. 

9:24 If this is a joke, it isn’t funny, Carol. 

9:30 I’ll pick you up at 7 tomorrow. Be ready. We’re getting pasta.  

__________________________________________________________________________

“So. You want to be a pilot, but now you’re here playing rugby and studying literature?”

Carol shrugs. 

“My best friend Maria and I were supposed to enlist together, but some shit happened and he needed me to stick around. I’ve always been good at rugby even though my dad hated that I played sports, and so I stuck around here. Got a full scholarship for rugby, and put the dream of flying aside. The academy will always be there. It’s not what I wanted, but it’s what Maria needed. I couldn’t just leave her when she needed me most.” 

You smile softly at Carol, shocked by her sudden display of emotion. She’s clearly conflicted, and her eyes drift up to the sky, staring wistfully at the dimming horizon. 

“I think that’s very brave of you, Carol. You’re a really good friend,” you say, reaching out to place a hand atop hers in a sudden burst of confidence. The evening had been oddly pleasant, and conversation flowed between the two of you. Granted, Carol was still somewhat of an egotistical jerk, but she was obviously emotionally conflicted, and she had sacrificed her biggest dream to help her closest friend when she needed it most.  

Carol looks down at your hand, tensing up for a second before flipping her palm to meet yours and giving your hand a quick squeeze. 

“I’m alright, ok? I don’t want you worrying about me.” 

You nod. Carol smiles, and moves to stand up. 

“What do you say we get out of here, and head back to my place? Maybe watch a movie?” 

You smile, nodding at Carol. “I’d like that a lot,” you whisper. “I’d like that.” 

Carol holds her hand out to you, helping you up out of your chair. You move to pull your hand out of hers, assuming she meant to just assist you up, but she holds on firmly as the two of you walk back to her vintage red Mustang. 

The drive back to her apartment is filled with throwbacks from the 90s, widows open and hair wild. You’re both singing the words of the songs obnoxiously, relishing in the sweet freedom of the open night. 

When you finally reach her apartment, your eyes are bright and your hair is messy. You look over at Carol, messy hair strewn about. You begin to laugh uncontrollably, with Carol joining shortly after upon seeing your own windblown look. 

When the laughter finally succeeds, you look over at Carol to find her gazing at you intently. You laugh apprehensively, but Carol’s gaze does not falter.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re beautiful,” she asks. 

You nod your head slowly. “Not really, no.” 

“But you had a boyfriend?” 

You nod. “It wasn’t really the best of situations. I’ve since come to many realizations about myself since then.” 

Carol smiles. “Well, then I guess I’ll just have to tell you as many times as I possibly can to make up for the lack of times you’ve been told that.” 

“Carol, I don’t even know how to respond to that,” you sputter out. 

“So don’t.” 

Carol leans in over the middle of the car, hesitantly pressing her lips against yours in a tender kiss. You’re surprised at first, but you lean into the kiss, melting against her mouth. Your hands tangle in her already messy hair, and you smile against her lips. The kiss intensifies as your hands begin to roam down Carol’s back, fingers itching to explore. She pulls her hands off of you, smiling softly. 

“Let’s head inside, Princess. We can have a lot more fun in my bedroom than we ever will out here.” 

You nod your head, eagerly anticipating the next steps. 

When you reach her apartment, he leads you past the kitchen, flipping on various light switches as she heads through the living room, finally reaching her bedroom. It’s surprisingly neat, with framed photos of her and a woman that you guessed was her friend Maria. There’s a small pin shaped like a sort of star resting atop her desk, with a framed photo of an adorable orange kitten. Her bed is neatly made, and the room is incredibly put together. 

“You like it, huh?” 

You jump, startled by Carol’s voice. 

“Yeah. Um, it’s very nice,” you reply. “Super neat.” 

Carol laughs. 

“Yeah, for all my disorganization at school, I do like to keep my apartment pretty tidy.” 

Carol walks over to her desk and picks up your list. 

“I think this belongs to you, my darling. We don’t have to do anything with it, or even speak of it again should you so wish that to be the case.” 

You bite your lip, considering your options. 

“Were you really serious, Carol?” 

Your heart is beating fast, and your palms are beginning to grow clammy. 

She laughs. 

“Of course I was serious, Princess. Why would I offer if I wasn’t?” 

You look down, mumbling your answer out. 

“I didn’t really think someone like you would ever be interested in someone like me, honestly.” 

Carol laughs, walking over to you. She gently tilts your chin up, meeting your eyes. 

“Hey. You’re smart, you’re beautiful, and you drive me up a wall when you’re yelling at me to fucking finally read your notes, as you so kindly put it in your own words. Of course I would be interested in a girl like you. You’re incredible.” 

She kisses you softly, slipping hers hands underneath your sweater. Breaking away for a second, she whispers to stop her if anything is too much. Green for go, she says. Red for stop. 

Her hands roam up your body, making their way up to your neck. She gently squeezes at the column of your throat, whispering in your ear. 

“I noticed you had this on your list, Princess. I did read your notes this time, and I did study up. I know all the things that could make you tick. And yet, I still want to hear you tell me what you want. You want me to choke you? Squeeze your throat till you’re begging me to stop?” 

“Yes, please,” you moan out. 

“Then use your words, Princess. Mmm... and what else should we do today? What other things from your little list do you want to try? I know you don’t want to start off simple... You even said so yourself. Tell me with your words, Princess. Tell me what you want.” 

You gasp, head tipping back as Carol’s hands resume their exploration of your body. 

“Cat got your tongue, Princess? Normally you’re so vocal during class... Why change now?” 

You moan again, unable to speak properly as Carol’s fingers find your nipples, gently pinching. He pinches harder when you are unable to answer her question. 

Moving hers hand to cup your jaw, he harshly tilts your face to look at him. 

“Answer me, Princess. I’m growing impatient and I don’t have all day. Normally you’re so quick to answer. What a shame.” 

“Put me in my place, please,” you gasp out, voice breaking. “I want you to edge me and spank me and punish me and tell me what a naughty little girl I’ve been, touching myself to the thought of you. I want to eat you out while I’m forced to touch myself, unable to cum without your permission. I want you to choke me as you pound me into the mattress with your cock, reminding me of my place. I want to be your good little girl, moaning only your name as you show me who I belong to.” 

Carol smirks. 

“I’ll be honest—I always knew you had a thing for me. You weren’t exactly discreet. The secret is, I had a thing for you too. I wasn’t expecting you to write about me in your notes, though. And I definitely wasn’t expecting you to write something like that ever. Our little teacher’s pet, our good little girl, the smartest girl in class—and such filthy thoughts! Didn’t take me long to figure out who the mysterious blonde figure was. You wrote some pretty explicit stuff in there, Princess. You’re such a filthy little whore... So many dirty thoughts! Imagine if those notes had fallen into the wrong hands...” 

Carol’s hands dip to the edge of your sweater, swiftly pulling it off of your body. She cocks an eyebrow at you upon seeing the lacy navy blue bodysuit underneath that you’d specifically selected for tonight. 

“Did you wear this just for me?” 

You nod. 

“Good girl. I like the way you think. Now, take off those pants for me. While you’re at it, get rid of that lacey little thing. It’s pretty, but you’re prettier.” 

You obey her quickly, shedding every stitch of clothing from your body. You’re trembling with excitement and anticipation, and you’re nervous as Carol’s eyes rake up and down your body. 

“Stunning,” she says, never taking her eyes off of your body. “You’re absolutely perfect. I can’t wait to teach you how to be a good little slut for me... you’re such a good learner. Wonder if that translates in the bedroom?” 

You groan, rolling your eyes. “Why don’t you shut up and find out already?” 

Carol laughs condescendingly. 

“You sure you want to mouth off like that, Princess?” 

You nod. “You seem to be all talk right now, and no action.” 

Carol growls. “We can change that. I don’t tolerate brats around here. Brats get punished. If you’re a good girl, you get rewarded. Which is it going to be tonight, Princess. I need an answer.” 

You roll your eyes without even thinking. “Just fuck me already, Carol.” 

Carol tangles her hand in your hair, pulling your head back. “I told you that brats get punished. It looks like you've selected the brat role tonight. Get on your fucking hands and knees. I’m not going to ask you a second time.” 

You quickly obey, scrambling onto your hands and knees. You wiggle your ass slightly, but Carol firmly holds it in place. 

“Stop. Now, since this is your first time, I’m going to take it easy on you. We are only going to do ten, but mark my words, if you pull this sort of bratting on me again, I can and will increase that number. Now, I want you to count.”

The first strike comes faster than you were expecting, but it does not hurt as much as you thought it would. 

“One,” you gasp out.

Carol strikes again, harder this time. 

“Two,” you gasp out again.

He continues, hitting a bit harder each time, and your ass is red by the finish. 

“Good girl,” she whispers in the shell of your ear. “You took your first punishment so well for me—it is almost like you were made to do this...” 

She ghosts her fingers lightly over your neck, drifting down to your collarbone before moving her hands to gently massage the soft tissue of your breasts. 

With a gentle slap to your aching ass, she gives you a new set of instructions. 

“Now. For our next lesson, you’re going to suck me off. The better you do, the less edges I’ll give you tonight. I hope you’ve been studying, Princess. Either that, or you just better wish that this comes naturally for you.” 

Carol swiftly pulls her pants and boxers down and throws her shirt to the side, revealing her toned abs and muscled back. You can see her muscles ripple as she stretches her arms above her head to take her shirt off. Your jaw goes slightly slack at the sight of her perfect nude figure.

“Close your mouth, Princess. You’ll catch flies.” 

You blush. “Sorry, Carol. You’re just so beautiful.” 

Carol winks. “I can tell, Princess. Your eyes haven’t left my torso.” 

You giggle, but quickly stop when Carol moves directly in front of you. 

“Test time, Princess. Hope you’ve studied. But, if you haven’t, I’ll allow for retakes. Think of this one as a pretext, if you will. How much do I need to teach you when it comes to this particular subject?” 

You moan at her words, mouth salivating. You’re desperate to touch her, to run your tongue over her strap. Carol leans down to press a quick kiss upon your lips, immediately guiding your face to her strap after. You’re unsure of what to do at first, the feeling foreign upon your tongue. Eventually, you begin to find your rhythm, head bobbing as you introduce a hand to match your rhythm. You continue your tiny kitten licks, timing them with the thrust of your fingers. Carol is silent for the most part, but every so often she breaks her stoic silence with a loud moan or gasp when you hit a particularly sensitive spot against her body. You grind against the pillow that Carol has placed between your legs, annoyed with the lack of friction you got, but thankful to have anything at all. Your tongue continues its way along Carol’s strap, body quivering with pleasure. 

It isn’t long before she’s moaning continuously.

After all, you have always been a very quick learner. 

Carol pulls away, and you whimper at the loss of contact. She messily kisses you, groaning at the taste of herself on your tongue. 

“For your first time, that was surprisingly good.”

You beam in satisfaction.

“However, I’m still going to edge you at least five times.”

You whimper. 

“But Carol—“

“No buts, pretty girl. It’s for your own pleasure, alright? It’s good to practice delayed gratification. Now, get over there on the back of the bed for me. Spread those legs as wide as you can. I want that dripping cunt of yours on display.”

You move off of your pillow, following her instructions. Carol walks over to you, hovering over you on the bed as she cages your body with her arms. 

“I want to hear every moan you make,” she growls. “Don’t hold back on me, Princess.” 

You nod. 

“Yes, Carol.” 

Carol smiles and strokes a single finger through your dripping folds. You shudder. The feeling of her soft fingertips against your throbbing core is heavenly, and you’re unable to hide from the breathless moan that escapes your mouth. 

Carol continues to slide her fingers through the folds of your cunt, relishing in the puffy texture as she explores. Her fingers trace small circles here and there, dipping into your soaking hole when she feels like doing so, pinching your clit, edging you into oblivion. 

You ask her to cum numerous times, but she always pulls away. Finally, she pulls away for the last time. 

“You can cum this time, Princess. But I want to cum on my cock for me like a good little slut, alright? I want you to scream my name for me. Let the whole world know you’re mine now.” 

You nod, moaning at her filthy words. She carefully lines up with you and thrusts in quickly, giving you a chance to adjust to the size and foreign feeling of the cock inside of you. 

When you nod at her, she begins to thrust her hips at an ungodly pace, hitting that perfect spot inside of you that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head. She moves one hand to your clit, rubbing tight little circles over the throbbing organ, and her other hand moves to your throat, lightly pressing down. She’s pushing you into the mattress, firmly grinning the column of your neck as her hips thrust faster and faster. 

“You like it when I choke you? When your brain starts to go a little bit foggy and you can’t tell if it’s from the sex or lack of air? You like it when I tell you what a good little slut you are, taking my cock like such a good little Princess, showing how well you learn and how well you take instruction?”

“Yes,” you manage to gasp out in between moans. “Please, fuck me harder.” 

Although it seemed humanly impossible, Carol managed to fuck you harder. The relentless snap of her hips grew faster, thrusts hitting further and further inside of you each time. The hand rubbing your clit runs faster, harder, and just before you’re about to rip over the edge, Carol whispers in your ear. 

“Cum  for me, Princess. Cum like the good little girl you are.” 

You scream out in ecstasy as you tip over the edge, collapsing against the mattress. Carol pulls out, falling into bed next to you, wrapping her arms around you as she presses kisses to your neck and collarbone, drifting up to your forehead. 

“You did so well, Princess. You’re such a good learner. Looks like you’re just as good in here as you are in a classroom.” 

You smile. 

“I try my best. Honestly, that’s all I can ever do.”

Carol smiles. 

“A good attitude to have. Now, let’s go get you cleaned up.”

A few snacks, some water, and one blissful shower later, you’re dressed in Carol’s old sweatpants and sweatshirt as you climb into bed beside him. She’d invited you to stay the night, and you hadn’t been able to resist. Carol flips the lights off, pressing a delicate, featherlight kiss to your forehead. 

As you lay in bed however, you remember an important fact. 

“I still have to teach you all of literature,” you mumble. 

Carol laughs softly. 

“And I have many things to teach you still, darling. But for now, sleep.”

You smile, closing your eyes as you feel Carol’s grip on you grow stronger. 

Literature could wait until tomorrow.

[jaketsparrow]

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.”

[reidbae]

DAY 8: Shattered — rough sex w/dom!spencer reid

KINKTOBER 2023: masterlist

summary: You needed some quick relief from your profiling professor, who gives it to you: In the roughest way possible.

pairing: dom!prof!spencer reid x sub!fem!reader

warnings/mentions: teacher x student relationship, AFAB!reader, choking, hair pulling, vaginal sex, degradation, praise, use of pet names (doll, baby, honey, sweetheart), public sex but not rlly, general rough sex, fic is veryyy to the point so be warned LOL

wc: 1.2k

"Wait, Spencer, fuck," you muttered under your breath, your hand coming up to cover your mouth as you felt his cock push deep inside of you.

You had used your break at school to go see your professor, who also happened to be your boyfriend.

Your very rough boyfriend.

Your body had been begging for him from the second that you had his class that morning, and you knew you wouldn't be able to get through the day without him fucking that need out of you at least once.

What you didn't expect was for him to be so mean about it.

You were bent over his desk, with Spencer positioned behind you. You were now on your second round, because, it would seem, one wasn't enough for Spencer. You felt his cock push into your sensitive cunt before you'd had even a second to cool down from your first high.

Thus, provoking that response.

"I can't," you whispered in a small, pained voice, your cheeks flaring up with heat at the feeling.

Spencer didn't seem to care about your whines of concern, and only moved himself deeper inside of you, causing you to moan out with a mix of pain and pleasure, and him to chuckle.

"You can't what, sweetheart? Handle it?" Spencer teased you, allowing a hand to close around your throat and squeeze down as he spoke to you. "Weren't you just begging for me to fuck you?"

"Well—Um, I- That's—" you fumbled with your words; But the both of you knew it was impossible for much to coherently leave your mouth at the moment.

"Exactly," Spencer cut you off in a hoarse voice. "I'm only giving you what you asked me for. Now, why don't you be a good girl, shut up, and take it?" he said cruelly, before going right back to pounding into you.

He moved his hand away from your throat as you took him from behind, his hands settling themselves onto your ass and squeezing down. It was all you could do to keep your mouth shut as he did so.

Seeming to be thinking the same thing you were, Spencer moved one of his hands away from your bottom and put it over your mouth, making sure not even one sound could escape your lips. "Keep it down, honey. I'm the only one who gets to hear those pretty moans," he teased.

Your whine in response to that was muffled by his large hand over your mouth, and, like he'd said, all you really could do was sit there and take it.

It wasn't long before pain fluxed back into pleasure, and your whimpers of pain dissolved into lewd moans once more. Spencer only chuckled, but wouldn't remove his hand from your mouth even once.

"That's it, doll. Feels good now, huh?" Spencer said in a raspy voice. You nodded eagerly, moaning into his hand.

You weren't sure what made you do it, but you had a tiny urge to rebel a bit, just to see what Spencer would do. You lifted a weak hand to the one that was covering your mouth, and tried to move his hand away so you could speak.

Spencer's grip was firm, though, and he didn't allow that to happen. "And what is it you think you're doing, sweetheart?" he asked in a rough voice.

You moved your head back as a way to get away from his hand, and this time, succeeded. "Please, Spencer. Please let me talk," you whined out in a bratty, almost snappy voice.

You didn't have to look to know that Spencer wasn't a fan of that.

For a second, you figured he would give it up and let you do what you wanted to do. But when the feeling of soft fabric tying your hands behind your back hit your skin, you knew that that was far from what was going to happen.

You looked back to see what he'd done: Spencer had used the tie he was wearing to hold back your hands, leaving him only in a white unbuttoned work shirt. One of his hands raked through your hair, pulling just a bit to keep you down, and the other went back to your mouth.

"If I tell you to shut up and take it, that's what you do," Spencer said, like it was the easiest thing to humanly comprehend. "Do you understand me?"

You didn't have it in you anymore to deny him; You only nodded your head quickly in response. Spencer chuckled for a second, moving one of his hands down to your throat again. "Attagirl."

After a while, when Spencer began to feel you coming in on your second high, he pulled you into his chest, so that your back was flush against him.

The hand that was disallowing you to speak moved down to rub rough, fast circles on your clit, causing you to moan out with pleasure.

Your expression was nothing short of pornographic as you whispered, "God, Spencer," in a broken voice. "More. Please."

Spencer smirked at you and obliged, doing all that he could to get you to your climax. His free hand cupped your breast, fondling it at the same pace as his other hand did your clit, and attacking your neck with kisses.

Spencer's lips left hickeys wherever they touched as he bit, kissed, and sucked your neck, like he'd die if he didn't. "How's that for you, honey?" he whispered in between kisses.

All you could do was nod in response to that. "Good. So good," you murmured. You tilted your head back to kiss him, your lips meeting each other with frenzied passion. You shamelessly allowed your tongue to explore his mouth, the both of you moaning into it.

Spencer's hands only moved quicker on your clit as his cock pounded into you, desperate to get you to your high. "God, you look so pretty like this," Spencer whispered as he kissed your neck. "My pretty slut, aren't you, sweetheart?"

You nodded, looking at him with a lewd expression. "Y- Yes," you could barely stutter out. "I'm yours."

"That's a good girl," he responded as he pressed his lips to yours again, clearly amused by how needy you were being for him.

Your brain was far too muddled with pleasure to process his teasing tone of voice.

"Spencer," you moaned, covering your mouth with your hand, just as Spencer had done to you earlier. "I- I'm gonna—Fuck," you moaned into his ear.

Spencer only smirked at your shattered tone of voice, chuckling and moving your hand away from your mouth, wanting to hear you this time. "Go ahead, honey. Let it out."

That was all you needed.

A broken whine of Spencer's name fell from your lips as waves of pleasure crashed all over your body, with Spencer moving into you at a speed that could only be described as criminal. His hand rubbing you while he helped you reach your high, too, was almost too much for you to handle.

Almost.

Spencer's actions mimicked yours as he moaned your name into your neck, squeezing your waist forcefully as he filled you to the brim with his cum.

As you both panted, coming down from your climaxes, Spencer pressed a few gentle kisses to your face, a stark contrast to the rough manner he had been handling you in before. "Did I give you what you wanted, baby?" he asked in a soft voice.

You nodded, smiling back at him, and running your fingers through his hair. "Yeah, and then some."

—

reblogs are very much appreciated! <3

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[ghostfacd]

LUKEY BOY’S GONE SOFT! — LUKE HUGHES

based on this edit of mine

pairing; slytherin!luke x hufflepuff!fem!reader

summary; all the times luke’s friends and those around you have noticed your tall cold boyfriend being whipped for you and the one time you got to see it for yourself

genre; FLUFFY FLUFF!! luke being a sneaky whipped mf, hogwarts!au, mean to everybody but you trope, black cat!bf luke + golden retriever!gf reader

✸ SLYTHERIN!LUKE MASTERLIST

Everybody knew Luke Hughes, the scary, tall, and ridiculously good at Quidditch Slytherin who was absolutely whipped for you.

If anyone had asked, you were Luke’s favorite person in the whole world. There was no hesitance in that; they knew you loved him and they knew Luke loved you just as equally.

Now how did they know Luke was, according to his friends, “down bad” for you?

Exhibit A: That one time in Potions

Everybody knew Professor Snape was very picky on how he wanted each student’s potions to look like—and he had a very strict criteria.

Luke, aside from being a great seeker in Quidditch, was one of the best potion makers their year had known.

Each time Professor Snape would pass by, he would give a grunt of approval. The other students would get a “too yellow” “too bubbly” “too little bubbling” “too little color”

You weren’t the best at potions, in fact, you were merely passing in the class. It wasn’t your fault that Professor Snape was too nit picky—you could barely even let out a word before he would criticize practically everything about your potion!

Before you had started dating Luke, you struggled quite a lot in the class. But after he had finally asked you to be his girlfriend, he took a mental note to himself that he would help you in the class whenever he could.

One day when Professor Snape was in a particularly snappy mood, he ordered the class to make him a perfectly bubbling green potion. Luke, thankfully, was the best at these type of potions and made his in the first five minutes.

He noticed you with your partner, Annie Abraham, struggling to get the potion bubbling. With a shake of his head and a sigh, he quietly snuck over to you, making sure the grumpy professor was out of sight.

He wrapped his arms around you, giving you a small back hug. You quietly gasp, turning around to face your cheeky boyfriend.

“Hi,” you breathe out, “finished early with your potion?”

“I always do,” he replies, placing a kiss on your nose, “do you need help lovely?”

“Yeah,” you bit your lip in annoyance when you turn back to face your potion, “me and Annie have been trying to do everything we can to get it bubbling but nothing works Lukey!”

Annie tries to hold in her laugh at your nickname for your boyfriend. She knew Luke would give her a glare if he had saw, so she covered her mouth and just nodded along to your words.

“No worries lovely, let me help,”

When Luke is done, your potion looks exactly the way Professor Snape wanted it. Squealing happily, you give Luke a kiss on the cheek and a tight hug.

“Mr. Hughes, is there a reason why you’re at Miss. L/N’s and Miss. Abraham’s desk?” A dark voice says from behind the three of you, making you quickly break apart from the hug.

“They just asked me where one of the materials are, that’s all,” Luke replies back quickly, his eyes coming into contact with Professor Snape.

The two have a sort of silent eye contact contest with each other before Snape blinks, “very well, get back to your seat.”

Luke retreats back, giving you a small smile when he sees Professor Snape give you a 100 on your potion.

“Absolutely whipped,” Mark says. He was one of Luke’s close friends, who happens to be sitting across the room from the two of you.

“Tell me about it,” Luke’s other friend says, clicking his tongue. “Kinda jealous of her to be honest, wish Lukey was whipped for us.”

“Shut up!”

Exhibit B: your first official date as a couple

“Hi.” You say as you open the door to your dorm room. You’re dressed in a beautiful but simple baby blue dress that Luke’s eyes can’t help but light up at.

“Hi,” he breathes out nervously. “Ready to go?”

“With you? Always,”

Your flirting tone makes Luke look down at the grass, his cheeks turning pink. He can’t believe he’s now shy, compared to the confident tone he had when you first asked him out to Hogsmeade.

Tonight was different though. Tonight would be you two’s first night as an actual couple. Actually boyfriend and girlfriend.

“I.. I brought flowers,” Luke says, handing you a small bouquet of roses and baby’s breath, “I didn’t know if these were your favorites but I asked your friend and she said it was and I really hope she wasn’t lying to me—Jack actually teased me quite a bit when I was cutting off the thorns and got a small cut but it was worth it to see you smile. Am I talking too much? I don’t know but I really hope you like them, I don’t even know if I was supposed to get you flowers but all my friends told me I should.. I’m also new at this so forgive me—”

“Luke!” You say, placing your hand on his shoulder. He stops blabbering and looks into your eyes, the same ones that he fell inlove with when you insisted that you wanted to be his after his game against the Gryffindors. “It’s fine my love, I love it.”

You lean in to give him a kiss, one that he returns oh so happily.

“Shall we go my lady?” Luke raises his eyebrows jokingly.

“We shall,”

The two of you leave hand in hand, both filled with stupid smiles.

“Our Lukey boy is down bad in the dumps,” Mark whispers to Quinn, who nods right away.

The two were watching from their dorm window, admiring the inlove couple.

“He is—but he’s happy, and that’s all that matters.”

“Wow Quinny, I didn’t know you were soft like that.”

“Shut up Estapa! And don’t call me Quinny,”

Exhibit C: when you forgot to do your homework

“Oh no!” You say, rummaging through your bag. You had forgotten there was a packet due for your History of Magic class.

“What’s wrong baby?” Luke asks concerned. He watches your eyes flicker in panic when you don’t find your packet.

“The packet! I left it at my dorm,” you say, slumping against your seat in disappointment. “I’m gonna get so many points taken off Lu, this sucks.”

Luke nods in understanding, taking out his own packet he had finished the night before. He goes to erase his name, putting yours on instead.

“What are you doing Lukey?” You ask, watching him hand you the packet.

“Giving it to you, I’ll turn in yours late as mine, so you can get your full credits.”

You shake your head right away, pushing the packet back into Luke’s arms.

“Lu, I can’t do that. You worked hard to finish it, and it’s not your fault I forgot mine.”

“It’s okay baby,” he reassures you, handing you back the stack, “I already have a high score in this class, a few points cut won’t hurt my grade. I want you to take it.”

With a hesitant look in your eyes, you go to trim in the packet at your professor’s table.

“I feel bad Lu,” you say, leaning your head against his shoulder.

“Don’t be,” he pulls you closer to him, embracing you tightly.

Your two classmates who had overheard the conversation can’t help but admire in awe. They thought Luke was never capable of loving someone so much, his focus had been on Quidditch for the longest time. But when you came along, it had all changed.

Exhibit D: when a guy interrupted you far too many times

“So today, we had this really cool thing in my Herbology class!” You say excitedly to Luke as you settle yourself comfortably into his lap.

He nods along to your words, urging you to go on.

But before you can, a Gryffindor boy who was also in your class interrupts.

“It wasn’t that cool YN,” he scoffs, looking between you and Luke.

“Yes it was Brandon!” You look up to Luke, who’s clenching his jaw. “Anyway Lu—”

“Luke, did you hear that Slytherin’s going against Hufflepuff next week?”

Luke nods, eyes staring emotionless into Brandon’s, “of course I did. I’m the seeker.”

“Oh right, I forgot,”

“Mhm, Lu plays really well—!”

“Eh, Slytherin will surely win anyway,” Brandon gives you a small smirk, “Hufflepuffs are too weak and nice, aren’t they YN? You would know,”

This was Luke’s last straw, he decided. He carefully slid you out of his lap, standing up to now be in front of Brandon.

“Whoa man, what are you doing?” But before Brandon could say anything else, Luke punches him straight in the jaw, making the Gryffindor fall back, clutching his face.

“What the fuck man!” He yells.

“Lu!” You pull Luke back, eyes meeting his to make sure he calmed down. “Stop.”

“Yeah, stop you fucking psycho!” Brandon wipes his mouth, which now had some blood. “Control your fucking snake YN,”

“You wanna say that again?” Luke comes closer to Brandon, who quickly scurries off to his friends, cursing Luke in the process.

“What a jerk,” Luke scoffs, “disrespecting my girl and me like that.”

“It’s alright Lu,” you say, pulling him into your arms. “He’s not worth it.”

You hadn’t believed all your friends and his friends when they came to you saying you had Luke wrapped around your fingers until now.

You realized how lucky you were to have such a sweet boyfriend, one that cared deeply for you and would do anything to make you happy.

“Love you Lu,” you say when you two finally arrive back at your dorms.

“Mhm, love you too lovely,”

[what-is-love-babey-dont-hurt-me]

Y’all ever just postpone something for months and there’s more negative side affects to not doing it, but when you do it it’s actually really easy and hassle free and you are just like damn I really let my anxiety cause problems like that

[ttulipwritezz]

King Of My Heart (Body And Soul)~ R. Lupin.

Chapter 1 -  Stranger that I know.

Ootp! Remus Lupin x Sirius's sister!Reader

Synopsis: When James and lily died, and your brother was sent to Azkaban, Remus was the only person you have left. Until he left too. What happens when he returns after the events of Sirius's escape, only to find out you have a son? A son that's his.

WC: 817 words

Warnings: lots of italics, probably grammatical mistakes, kiss(es), might be ooc idk, child (?), fem reader, italics are flashbacks ( idk), love (ew), [ look at series masterlist for all content warnings]

A/n: bear with me on this one, it's rather short but it's to jumpstart the series so i can write the rest of the parts. If you like this, please reblog and comment! <3

Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist, Navigation

"When did you say they were arriving again?"

Your voice echoes through the walls of the kitchen at 12 Grimmauld place. you wipe down the kitchen counters as another smaller, more meek voice replies.

"Mum we talked about this" That's your son. Regulus.

After the event of your brother passing, you wanted to honour his name. Such a beautiful name it was. No matter how cruel the people to name him were.

"I know ,I just worry, what if they get lost? maybe they couldn't find the place? what if they got caught- " Your rambling was interrupted by your son once again.

"MUM! nothing is going to happen. Besides, he's your brother. And he has lived here before. You know him." Regulus reasoned, and frankly his reasoning was logical. you were just...paranoid.

You did however, leave out the fact that what truly made you nervous was Remus.

"Well i haven't for the past 14 years, Regulus." you replied, snappy, referring to sirius. Your impatience was nearly rivaling that of your son.

"when is it arrivingggg?" a voice full of exasperation nearly whines as the screeching sound of trolly wheels comes to a halt.

An eleven year old regulus rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet as he (claimed to) patiently wait for hogwarts express to make it's way into the platform.

A thirty three year old you bent down to brush away his untamed curls, sighing as you did so.

"It will arrive soon enough, dove. Calm down."

Your voice tried to reason but little regulus's patience was waning. You had never seen a kid be so excited at the thought of going off to boarding school. But you suppose watching his older brother Harry would have embedded him with some form of excitement for the school.

You would be lying if you said you weren’t just as excited. It was your son’s first day at school. Big boy wizarding school.You were excited to see your boy go to the place you first knew as home, meet your former professors, roam the halls that you did, and make friends.

You did not, however, expect his first friend to be Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy and your dearest cousin. In a way the two were cousins, they just didn’t know it yet.

That summer, when regulus came back from Hogwarts, he had a plethora of stories to tell you. His rant began with his new friends, Draco, Blaise, Pansy and Theo, and ended with his defense against the dark arts professor, Remus Lupin.

Needless to say all colour drained from your face at the mention of him. Remus Lupin…how do you even begin to describe remus lupin?

Remus is pretty. 

He is pretty like the sunrise in winter, when the sky is faded out and it's warm. Thats what you think as you sit on the roof of  potter manor. Chatting, with hands occupied by, what you think is, beer in plastic cups. You felt giddy, perhaps it was the alcohol in your system. Or the gentle brush of his hand on your clothed thigh. You felt…in love. Somewhere along the way your innocent schoolgirl crush had become something more. You hoped it had been so for him as well.

“Dove…”

His velvety voice catches your attention. You turn your head to him, only to see him still facing the sun. You’re sure he’s seen your movement though, as he takes it as his que to continue.

Nothing. Nothing could brace you for the words that were to follow.

“I fancy you.” Your eyes widen.He continues.

“I have for some time now… I think you fancy me too? Not to-  I- uhm–” 

“I do.” you find yourself speaking. 

That was your first of many kisses to come.

Just then, the sound of the doorbell catches your attention.

“That must be them” your son says, in a rather ‘i told you so’ tone.

You rush to wipe your hands on the kitchen towel and head for the door.

Taking a deep breath to brace yourself for what’s probably Remus Lupin on the other side of the door, you pull it open with a creak.

Your eyes immediately find his.

And for a moment, you're fourteen again. Staring at the brown haired bloke across kings cross station, as he laughs with your brother. Mesmerized by his eyes, his nose, his lips, his scars. You knew that face all too well.

You blink and you're back at the doorway. Staring at those brown eyes, those eyes you knew...all too well.

"Remus.."

"Hi, love"

Taglist (open): @twilightlover2007 @idli-dosa

[m-ayo-o]

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

[onyourhyuck]

Can We Go Back? | K.JW

— Prologue: “Can we go back please?”

— Summary: You have a tiny crush on Jungwoo. Problem is Jungwoo is helpless and oblivious to your feelings no matter how many hints you drop. One day you see him talking to another girl hugging her and it breaks you down.

— Genre: Romance. Smut. Minors Dni. Fantasy werewolf!Jungwoo x werewolf!y/n. College setting. Extreme angst. Y/n loves Jungwoo but has extreme fear of rejection. Possessive and Jealous Jungwoo. Jealous and possessive Y/n. They do it at the back of Jungwoo’s car. Car Smut. Markings. Big Dick Jungwoo Agenda.

— Notes: Can We Go Back is Jungwoo’s song fr.

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Jungwoo. Jungwoo. Jungwoo.

Your thoughts were smelt into nothingness leaving only a certain someone on your mind. The most important part of it was the boy you have developed feelings for. Your college friend Kim fucking Jungwoo. You guys became friends quickly in your first semester because you are both werewolves going to school in a human common populated college leaving only humans. There is hardly any werewolves or any other supernatural creatures. You must say it was a lucky day to meet Jungwoo that day. You would’ve felt alone on every full moon.

Now every full moon you spend it with Jungwoo. Whenever there was a full moon on the weekday and you happen to have a class you both come in super tired and snappy; it’s like dealing with two children waking up cranky from their deprived sleep. The full moon makes every werewolf easily tired as well as hungry and easily sensitive and distracted.

And whenever something wolf related happens you always cover for Jungwoo and he always covers for you. Last month he helped cover your lectures classes and kept notes for you because you started your heat at that time. For a week you stayed home until it was gone and you returned like nothing happened because Jungwoo had all the information for you to keep up with your classes.

You felt like there was a connection or something. There vertically was flirting between you. I mean you dropped plenty of hints to him that you like someone and that someone is freaking him but that boy was as oblivious as anything you seen before. You weren’t sure if he was a mole rat considering how blind he is! It frustrates you. It certainly does.

In the class business everyone was dismissed by the professor up the front lecturing everyone. You elbow knock Jungwoo off the desk who was sleeping away his life with a little drool coming out the open wide mouth. “Wake up class ended!”

He jolts up from the desk standing up quickly and in a daze he looks at you, half asleep, the beautiful brunette wavy hair from sleep. “I’m awake! I’m awake. Class ended already? Whoa that was the quickest class of my life.”

He treads out the class with you by the side. You guys were discussing tonight’s plans because it’s another full moon but this time you guys were talking about staying at his house celebrating it. You were discussing all sorts of things you should have like snacks and what kind you’d want. Jungwoo was more than happy to have you come over, but he was slightly hesitant about specifically YOU coming over knowing his two roommates Jaehyun and Doyoung will probably steal you away from him.

Jaehyun and Doyoung have met you a few times. Once you were walking Jungwoo home and they saw you outside walking their friend. You live in another neighbourhood not far from where their house is so you were home in like another fifteen minutes. Let’s just say the boys were teasing Jungwoo day and night about you asking all sorts of questions.

“Come on why can’t I come over to your house? You said it was fine and now you’re changing your mind again.”

Jungwoo sighs. “Let’s go to your house Y/n. It will be so much better. In my house we have two idiots who want your attention and keep wanting to see you.”

You squint your eyes at the reasoning it definitely sounded like Jungwoo did not like his friends getting close to you for some weird reason. Your shoulders bump into him playfully as you teasingly trail.

“Oh you’re jealous they will take your place is that it?” You shot at your friend and he looks at you glaring at your face knowing you are teasing him.

He rolls his eyes. “No. No that’s not it. You wouldn’t understand it’s a…”

“It’s a what?”

“It’s a guy thing okay.” He huffs out and you roll your eyes at Jungwoo knowing he is just too stuck up his ass to admit that he wants you to himself.

The both of you were about to walk home. The activities you love doing together was usually just walking anywhere and everywhere without worrying and talking non stop until we get tired and head back home again. You love having deep conversations the most. Jungwoo was surprisingly good at keeping conversations going you have no idea — that boy can ask about hundred questions in only one minute. You were constantly speaking but you love that. Jungwoo loves listening to you. Your voice makes it soothing and your presence he can basically wear it.

Your love language was definitely quality time and Jungwoo was the same. You enjoy spending time with the boy. It doesn’t matter if it’s doing nothing, doing nothing with Jungwoo sounds haven. It sounds like a freaking jackpot.

Jungwoo suddenly stops realising something. “Oh I almost forgot. I have to meet someone today.” The figure turns around facing the campus. You wonder who does he have to meet? A lecturer? Maybe Doyoung and Jaehyun? You weren’t sure. You stop on your tracks no longer walking.

You tilt your head. “Oh okay let’s go then.” You were about to walk away. Your body moved on its own and Jungwoo stops you on the tracks. “I gotta go alone Y/n. The person asked me to meet them privately. You can go home alone today.”

‘Home alone?’ Your mind repeated the last words like a breathing taking ending to your heart. You don’t want to go home alone. It feels weird walking alone without Jungwoo by your side. Your expression was confusing but he could tell you were pained thinking about it. You shake your head standing by the gates exiting the campus.

“How about i wait for you instead?” You’d ask.

Jungwoo looks at you seemingly liking that idea but he wasn’t sure how long this meeting would last. “That works too. I don’t know how long it’ll take but if you can wait for me that’s fine too.”

Whoever this person was it made you want to find out. You know everyone Jungwoo knows and he knows everyone you know. How come you don’t know this person at all and what’s the big deal? Usually Jungwoo would tell you everything he speaks about with people it’s a big shocker right? You know every secret he knows. You’re like two secret agents conspiring against each other’s enemies. But right now it did not feel like that. It felt like a big change and you hate change honestly.

When the boy left the scene to go meet this person the empty campus you couldn’t help but track Jungwoo behind. You felt awful stalking your friend but you couldn’t ignore this curiosity of yours. You want to know if Jungwoo is okay, you tell yourself that it’s because you were worried for him. It wasn’t wrong but it certainly wasn’t the only feeling as to why you’re following the tracks.

You’re doing this for your own sake too. You were following the lead behind a pink tree up the front you stay low behind the bushes watching through the jagged thorns. You wonder why was Jungwoo at a Sakura blossom tree? This place was where couples go and kiss claiming they will be together forever and ever. Which always sounds lovely if you’re in love.

‘I wonder if i should take Jungwoo here to confess…’ you trail thinking to your own smug thoughts.

But as your thoughts were interrupted hearing another female voice approaching Jungwoo from the Sakura tree you felt an intense wave of anger and jealous hit you stunning your tainted heart and breaking it with cracking it with a half. Your hands ball as you saw Jungwoo smiling down at her as if he was never that cheerful in his life before. That girl holds out a chocolate box made up in a heart shape smiling at Jungwoo back.

Did he come here to hear a girl confess? You must be kidding me. You repeatedly thought why he was so distant and it’s because he was getting a freaking confession! He left you for another girl.

To say a goodbye to your confession idea because you were a step loose and another quicker fish took the bait to do it. The girl whoever she was you never knew someone was there you could want to urge to kill and you weren’t aware of it until you saw jute girl and Jungwoo hug. You ran away at that time.

You couldn’t believe your eyes it hurt too much to watch any longer. To see your crush hugging another girl that wasn’t you?

‘He definitely said yes to her. He definitely did. She was totally his style that he likes.’ Your thoughts were killing you from inside and out.

You were complementing the idea of staying and waiting for Jungwoo in that moment when you come back to the campus exit. You slowly walk away but a voice brought you back from your venous thoughts like it was a dream all along.

But it wasn’t a dream. Jungwoo runs up waving. “Y/n! You really waited for me sorry it took so long.” The boy came with that chocolate box in shape of a heart and your eyes immediately came back to reality. This was not a dream this was a nightmare.

Your daggers point at the chocolate box. “What’s with that? Don’t tell me you took so long trying to find chocolate.” You murmur crossing your arms together. Jungwoo looks down at it shrugging. “Oh that! Don’t worry about it. Someone gave this to me. Let’s go home before it gets any darker.”

You never wanted to go home so fast before. You wanted to cry and cry until you were done from the tissue box becoming empty. The walk was sort of silent because you didn’t want to speak, if anything you wanted to be left alone in your own room, bringing dramas and shutting yourself from the world until you forget this ever happened.

Worst part is Jungwoo didn’t tell you anything about what he was doing there. If you weren’t there following him you wouldn’t even know about this leaving a big betrayal on your heart knowing your friend who you have feelings for, would do something so terrible to you. If only he wasn’t so dumb to notice them at all.

“You’re awfully quiet Y/n.” He trails opening the chocolate box and eating one piece. His eyes light up liking the scent and the taste.

He looks over at you. You were trying so hard not to be mean but how could you not be? The guy you love is eating the chocolates of his possible new lover now!

“I feel like being quiet today. You got a problem with that?” Your voice was a complete different tone from before which made Jungwoo stop for a bit and slowly run up to catch up with you. Your pacing of walk changed his and you were walking faster as if you were trying to leave him first.

He squints his eyes suspiciously at you. Something definitely happened to you and he needs to know now.

“What’s up you look like you want to chew something and spit it out.” Jungwoo points at you a little bit seeing how tense you really are.

You glare. “Nothing is up Jungwoo. Nothing at all is freaking up.”

He raised his eyebrows. Whoa he never seen this much attitude in a person before. Jungwoo points one piece of chocolate at you. “Are you okay? You seem angry actually. I can tell something is wrong. Want a piece of chocolate it will make you feel better?”

Your hand smacks the chocolate out his hand stomping your feet as you scream unknowingly you did. This was all your built up frustration speaking and your grief knowing you probably lost your freaking friend to your feelings now. “I don’t want your fucking chocolate Jungwoo. God you’re so fucking blind— are you a freaking mole rat? Cant you see what’s been happening around you?”

In fact the boy can’t see what’s happening around you because he was stunned to his boots seeing you do a giant outburst like that. Jungwoo for a moment saw your eyes turn into this malicious creature that could kill him if he did another wrong step. He stands there seeing your face grouch and your hands swing as the chocolate fell on the floor somewhere far away. He couldn’t understand though.

What was happening? What was he not seeing all this time? Jungwoo was a lost soul he couldn’t figure this out no matter how many times he thought it through.

“I’m sorry did i forget your birthday or something? I swear your birthday is next week.” He would suddenly speak after your long pause of silence and god you never wanted to smack someone so hard.

You look away scoffing. “Birthday? Jungwoo my fucking birthday is in November. We are in middle of May!” You swung your arms around walking away as you turned like a similar umbrella excusing you.

Jungwoo follows you from behind shouting. “Then what am i not seeing Y/n? What’s happening. Why are you angry tell me.”

You stop turning around. Jungwoo gently bumps into your back before you turn around pointing a hand in his chest repeatedly. It felt like a literal stab down his heart.

“I’m tired of trying for you Jungwoo. I really fucking am. You figure it out what’s wrong. You keep hurting me because of you I’m so upset.” You growl pulling away. “I don’t need someone as dense as you to walk me home I can do it alone. Oh and about that Full Moon at your house? You can fucking cancel it! You can bring along your new girlfriend to it instead.”

He was loss to words seeing you walk away from him for the first time ever he was left outside and a striking thunderstorm falls down on him. He held the chocolate box trailing wondering what you meant. ‘Girlfriend? What girlfriend?’ At least he thought until the flashback made him remember everything. You saw it. You saw the Sakura blossom and you probably thought he was ditching you.

God he felt like a stupid idiot for not connecting the dots quicker. He grabs his head and dropping the chocolate box on the ground as it was raining heavily soaking the clothes to the skin so tight. ‘My lord I’m an idiot. Darn it how will i fix this.’ Jungwoo never ever wanted to turn back time and let the world know of how much of a mess he just created.

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“What an asshole, Y/n. Glad you sort him straight. You don’t need someone like him around you causing you trouble on your good heart.” Your roommate and friend Momo said. You were venting your whole heart to the young Japanese girl. She was an exchange student from two years ago and ever since then she was always there to let you vent if you couldn’t tell to Jungwoo because most of it was Jungwoo related problems.

If these weren’t Jungwoo related problems. You would’ve told Jungwoo. Unlike him who can’t tell you everything you felt betrayed by him and all you were doing was laying on your bed sobbing your eyes out at every tissue and Momo was here keeping you the company with a bunch of kdramas.

You sniffle with your red nose all from blowing the tissue on it so much. “I can’t fucking believe it. Was I not good enough for him? Did he really have to choose her over me. I mean I don’t get it. What does she have that I do not?”

You tried to think about it. But simply comparing yourself to a human it was a clear reasoning but at the same time it didn’t make sense.

Momo trails. She was a vampire living with you and many would think that’s quite controversial speaking wise because Werewolves and Vampires aren’t really meant to be friends. But you and Momo were a change to that statement.

She was a good friend. Very understanding and caring and she has life experience of thousand of years dating wise so she could always give you dating advice without a credit.

“I don’t see it. I mean werewolves prefer werewolves don’t they? Why would he spend his limited time on a human girl.”

You glare at the ceiling rutting back and forth on your bed rolling side to side like a wrap on your blankets. “I don’t fucking know. I thought I was very clear with my feelings. I mean on Valentine’s Day I gave him his favourite perfume because he ran out! So why am i in the fucking friend zone.”

“But a human girl got there in a day. I’ve been trying for years. But a human girl did it in one day.” You slam your hands on your face constantly. This was killing you and Momo taps your shoulders comfortingly.

She grins playfully. “I can drink from her if it makes you feel better?” The vampire fangs poke out and you smirk shaking your head. Sometimes Momo scares you how fast she could really drop the nice act and fully bite someone drinking them dry.

But not everyone is perfect. Momo at least has some self control. You sigh. “It’s just… I can’t imagine living without Jungwoo in my life… it hurts to see him go away.” You trail depressingly again and Momo could say she was the life in your eyes wither away like a dead flower decomposing on a dead winter night.

“He will come back. If he doesn’t I’m sure it won’t take long till he realises that he’s in the wrong.” Momo would push the remote out suddenly changing the channel. “How about we watch Goblin together to get your mind off him?”

Goblin? You heard Goblin and never wanted to get up so quickly. You sat up crossing your legs over the other letting Momo join you on the bed sitting in the similar position. You smile suddenly completely forgetting your problems for a whole minute.

“Man I love the grim reaper so much.” You said holding your knees. Momo smirks tapping the remote on her legs as she saw the main characters. “You can take Lee Dong Wook but I’m taking Gong Yoo any day.”

You and Momo slowly sank in a deal.

Meanwhile over at the household with the boys having a full on dead meeting. Doyoung couldn’t believe his eyes to see Jungwoo stressing finally over you. It took him some time to come to a realisation that he’s so blind the right person was right in front of him all fucking alone. Jaehyun on the other hand was nonchalant about this and told Jungwoo to just apologise and go on the knees in front of her house. But Jungwoo knew tha wouldn’t work.

Begging on the knees doesn’t work for you he knows this. Apologising maybe works but going on the knees and looking pathetic? It wasn’t your go style. He knows you don’t like people begging you for forgiveness it actually annoys you. You weren’t sure what you wanted yet but Jungwoo knew it was something more healing than stressful.

“I really fucked up with Y/n.” He sighs holding his hands together in deep thought.

Jaehyun blurts out. “You really are blind aren’t you? How did you not know that she had feelings for you.”

Jungwoo stares at the older boys in front of him. He loosely lowers his head running his hand through the thick bouncy hair he has. “I… don’t know. It all makes sense now but god I’m useless at this love stuff.”

Doyoung was quick to comfort Jungwoo and trail softly to give an advice rather than lecture the younger boy to death. “The full moon is tomorrow why don’t you make it up to her then? Just meet with her and speak I think is all you need to do.”

He looks up nodding. Yeah? Maybe all you need is a good long deep talk. One conversation can fix a lot and Jungwoo might be able to get on your good side with this, or well he hopes he can.

“And don’t mention that girl to her.” Doyoung warns.

Jungwoo silently swears just by getting in that warning. He still has the sparring images of you smacking the fuck out of his hand at your angry outburst.

He shivers in fear. “God tell me about it. I never knew Y/n could have such anger inside her.”

Must be that full moon effect getting to you too because Jungwoo is here becoming fidgety.

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The very next morning Jungwoo had a very clear vision planned out. He will sit next to you and speak to you about what happened yesterday. He will ask you to meet him straight after class and then he will explain exactly what went downhill yesterday and how much he was a complete asshole and a mess for not realising sooner everything.

But when he entered the classroom tell him why you were sitting with the class president chatting to him and laughing with him so happily as if nothing happened yesterday between you and him?

Jungwoo stands there shocked and a little bit wounded in the heart seeing you become buddy buddy with Mark Lee. You were the happiest he’s ever seen with Mark. It kind of annoys him.

He wasn’t sure why it was so annoying until he realised that perhaps, he does like you too. That perhaps maybe all along he was oblivious to his very own feelings too.

Jungwoo saw how everyone was sitting somewhere only he was not. Simply standing in middle of the entrance dazed at how you moved seat from him. He was hurt to the point he wanted to throw Mark off the seat and take that one back so he could sit with you but that’s to an extreme. It doesn’t help that today is a full moon so he’s so fucking tired it doesn’t even explain how much he wants to doze away.

He sat down back into the old seat sinking in it and having such an empty right side aches Jungwoo deeply.

If this is what you felt yesterday when you saw him and that girl he was terribly upset by making you feel this way. He’s such an asshole. He definitely feels like it right now.

‘God this is such a long lesson…’ Jungwoo trails in his own thoughts see the professor walk in to start the class.

‘God this is such a long lesson what am i going to do now.’ You thought in your head when the professor came into the view front of the green chalkboard.

Your thoughts were the same even though you weren’t aware of it just yet. You both wanted the same thing. You both wanted each other.

‘I wish you were here to distract me from how boring this lesson is.’

As the lesson was carried on you and Mark kept on speaking very loudly to his ears it really irritated Jungwoo from where he sat far from you yet he was very much not far enough because he can hear that boy highkey simp for you. Oh god badly he wanted to just snap something in half.

Crack…

Jungwoo looks down at his pencil dwelling on how much it snapped so quickly in his hands just by the strength of the fingers. These full moon side effects have been getting to him honestly.

He puts the pencil away grabbing a new one out the pencil case however someone offered a pencil from another view. Jungwoo looks up seeing the girl from yesterday showing down a pencil.

He gulps seeing how much this could look in your eyes but he really needed a pencil.

“Jungwoo here take this. You can keep it.” The young human girl smiles down at the boy finding him too cute to deny.

He looks around and grabs the pencil nodding his head showing gratitude. “Thanks Minyoung.”

As you were about to turn around your eyes caught the same girl in front of Jungwoo giving him a pencil. In that frame work seeing Jungwoo smile up at her and thanking her; it truthfully made you lose your shit in that moment.

Mark saw how disconnected your expression was. It was like a mix between anger, jealousy but also intense sadness in your eyes. He looks behind to see what you were probably looking at and he saw Jungwoo and a girl at the frame angle speaking.

“Hey Y/n what’s wrong?” Mark slants down blocking the view Jungwoo in your eyes suddenly and you stare at Mark looking away.

“Nothing. Uhm.” You say shakily and Mark saw how you were clenching your work in your hands. He chuckles seeing you. “Uhm you’re squishing your work…”

You let go off the paper realising how much you squished it together into a paper-ball. God you weren’t aware how much you were doing with your hands it’s as if you dissociated from reality.

“Oh uh. Thanks. I wasn’t sure what that was.” You nervously laugh it off and start to up bundle the paper ball back to normal. ‘He really doesn’t need to show off his new relationship with her.’ Mark saw you acting this weird he wonders what happened between you and your best friend.

“Did you and Jungwoo have a fight by any chance? I’m just wondering because… you guys are really far apart from each other today.”

Mark saw you turn around for a while watching him. You weren’t sure what to say or what to do. You wanted to say yes but then you didn’t want to seem like you were going to Mark only because of that. You sigh looking around.

“I’m sorry. You’re in between all this mess now.” You say and Mark shakes his head grinning. “Nah don’t worry about it.”

“What did you guys fight about?”

You look at the Canadian boy as your eyes fell to Jungwoo you saw him staring you down so intensely you could feel a shiver run down your spine. You clear your voice. “I’ll tell you later. I don’t really wanna discuss it in class.” You said as you turn around and Mark respected your choice. He goes back to doing work with you.

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You stand outside your car unlocking it. The class ended and you’re on your way to go home and probably cry some more until your heart no longer can prorogued tears and you no longer feel like you’re in pain suffering.

But as you were entering your car putting the bag in the back seats. Your seatbelt on and you driving off while starting the car engine by the car key. You saw a running boy in front of your car suddenly and you stop on your breaks. You saw the boy nearly fall over as he was running in front of you as you were about to drive out the parking lot.

You gasp fearing he might be hurt because when you realise who the boy your eyes were tearing up. Fuck you almost ran over Jungwoo.

He yells outside but you could hear him well although it was a little muffled due to you being inside the car. “I need to speak to you Y/n!” He shouts.

“Geez fucking Christ you nearly got ran over what if i actually did that! You’ll frame me for your stupid death.” You shout back scolding him. The car door unlocks and Jungwoo heard it approaching the empty door and sits in the passenger’s seat. You awkwardly turn around pulling the car back into the parking lot where you stop the car from being on. You turn it all off and let you guys sit in a peaceful silence.

Jungwoo took his time recollecting a strong monologue to say to you. He was nervous as hell and you could hear his heartbeat coming out nearly.

“I… I’m really fucking sorry Y/n. I really am for everything.” Jungwoo’s body swings around catching you off guard. “I’m sorry for being a really bad friend and for not listening to you. I’m also terribly sorry for not telling you the truth but— let me explain before you say anything else.”

You shut your mouth when you were about to say something but you only nod alerting Jungwoo to know you’re okay with him explaining now or never.

He stares at you for once as if he was relieved to see you and honestly very glad you were being lenient on him and not so harsh like yesterday. He admires even though you weren’t aware of it, he admires you a lot. You do a lot of things for him that he took for granted long before you even developed a liking to him now.

He softly spoke looking down at his hands. “I rejected her.”

You shot up from your seat wondering what he meant by this. You tilt your head escaping out a soft ‘Huh?’

“What do you mean you rejected her?”

Jungwoo stares at you replying back quietly. “I told her i already had an eye on someone and that we can’t be anything more than just college classmates.” He clears his throat and you stay there stunned glaring. You raise your hand and slap his arm. “You — you made me think you were with her because you were hugging her!”

He looks back at her holding his chest wondering what’s with the slaps. He thought you were going to be happy to know he rejected her!

“Ow! Wait ow ow— what’s with the slapping Y/n! That hurts please calm down.” He held your wrists as a way to stop your attacks and pulls you closer to the passenger seat your faces coming close. Your lips barely away from one another and your breathes itching to just be taken away. Your voice came as a surprised whimper wondering why he was staring you down like you were his dinner meal tonight.

“And fyi i hugged her because she asked for one not because I was willing to.” Jungwoo paused. “I really only want to hug you. Without asking you. Without knowing it’s you I just want to be on you with my arms wrapped round you…”

You couldn’t help it but your overthinking senses were playing a heightened role of you becoming drunk on Jungwoo’s scent and the way his body was stretching out to hold you so close. The way his hands were barely at your waist but moving closer to pull you in with them. You were shocked to see Jungwoo becoming so reciprocating to you and your feelings it truthfully felt like a liquid dream you were in but at the same time this felt too real.

Too real to capture in a mere dream. The way Jungwoo’s eyes darken seen you and thought of you. Your brains were synch as one and now all you were wanting to do was makeout heavily. Jungwoo pushed you into the backseat as your lips crashed together without wasting any second he was moving quicker than his body could handle. You were squirming to the back slanting in the back seats underneath him it felt like a dream come true to have you breathing so heavily thanks to your deep enticing makeouts you were sharing together.

“Jungwoo…” a moan escapes like a rewarding prize for him to claim and he sucks on your bottom lip pulling it apart.

The hands securing your clothes were slowly undressing you until you were left in your bra and underwear. You slowly undressed Jungwoo too leaving him shirtless and in the boxers parting on the small waist of his. You straddle his waist pulling Jungwoo even closer and he swore he fell in love just by your legs forcing him to be closer to you than before.

“I like you saying my name like that.” He chants around your neck kissing down until he met your collarbones slowly giving it a suck on that skin. You shiver as it starts to rain outside and you’re both naked in the back of your car with nothing but your body warmth together.

You felt both connected together like you were one. He held you tight enough to leave you wanting more. Hugging wasn’t even an option anymore you want to be under his skin. Your fingers trace at the back down his spine and his waist. Jungwoo felt you slowly pull the boxers down and see how he sprung up the manhood making you drool at the sight.

It was a very pretty sight you’d have to say. It was everything you imagined but better. You hate to admit it but your lustful thoughts of him before were nothing comparing to this. This real deal was better than you thought. Jungwoo saw how you stroke his length with your cold hands and he squeezed your hips in response.

‘He was so sensitive.’ You were amazed by how fast he was moving along seeing you stroke him down and up in soft motions. And he lets out the softest moans ever you couldn’t believe it. He was getting the best treatment for you it’s only been fair if he lets you get the best end of the stick right?

“Enough… Y/n… I want to finish inside you.” He pleads.

He pulled on your ankles pushing you down into the backseats belonging to the car and suddenly switched the demure. You were surprised by how fast he could change from a loving man to a domineering and intimidating person who was losing control and barely hanging by a string. As you were pushed down he heard you gasp pulling apart your panties with his finger and fondling your breasts by the other hand. You moaned when one of his fingers pushed the way in you.

He saw your eyebrows raise up like they were clouds in the sky. You bite your bottom lip as Jungwoo watched you intensely seeing you moan everytime another finger dropped in you. You were soaking as if you were in the rain but you really were not. He was at awe how fast you got wet.

It felt like a giant ego boost knowing it’s all for him and only him.

You’re loosening up enough to take him is where Jungwoo stops and slings the tip to your entrance aligning it for you. You pull yourself up a little putting your arms round his neck and he hugs you tight smelling your perfume and scent sank in your loving sweet soft skin. It was begging to be marked by him.

You hum when the tip enters you and you felt your weight slowly deepening on the back. You really hope no one saw you with Jungwoo like this but at the same time…

You sort of wish that girl who likes Jungwoo sees you and him together.

It sounds cruel but you wanted to make it clear he was yours. He was never going to be hers. Jungwoo knew you would never see the end of him and at least now he made it clear the only he has was on you and only you.

Then a fiery kiss reunites you and Jungwoo as he was thrusting into you so deep you felt like you were squished between two boulders falling down from a long cliff onto you. You were addicted to this painful feel you never felt this high before and perhaps it must be the full moon side effects making everything for the both of you ten times more powerful. You never had sex at this moon cycle before and not even with a werewolf because you were waiting for Jungwoo all this time.

However it looks like everytime he was indulging into you Jungwoo was losing his mind. The body lost control and snaps into you enough to shake the car with the force. You were making all sorts of noises. Moaning into his ear. You were cutting out sentences that did not make sense but he knew, he knew it felt too good you couldn’t talk enough.

The only sound there was between you was the squelching sound that came from down below your wet cunt, dripping on the seat so much because you were coming repeatedly on his girth-like cock that stretched you to the oblivion.

It was so intense that Jungwoo had the urge to just bite down on your shoulder and claim you to be his. And you wanted that. You knew what he was thinking and you could only edge him on with words.

You whimper. “Jungwoo… Jungwoo mark me.”

At first he looks into your eyes but the way his hips and waist were grinding into you did not stop. He looks back at your shoulder smirking. “You really want to be marked this badly?”

He was taunting you with a teasing joke and you lay back huffing. “Please… claim me. Make me yours.” You ache at what you really want and Jungwoo smiles lingering down capturing a soft bite into your shoulder but even though it was such a soft bite,

It really made the painful experience more worth it. Somehow the pain become pleasure and the pleasure become your high you were chasing. Jungwoo pulls away to admire that mark on your body and you pull him into another kiss. You pull away whispering. “Now fill me up until you can’t anymore.”

He stares down at your intense gaze. “I was planning to do that anyways.” He croaks out.

You’re both always on the same page thinking the same things and doing the same actions. You understood each other beyond anyone else could’ve. If you had to say, you probably thought you’re soulmates. You just get each other without a single strand needing to stand up.

Your bodies were going into a heating overdrive when finally he released and dumps the gigantic load inside your walls painting them nothing but white. You couldn’t see for a moment getting a wince of dizziness and pleasure hit the oxygen in your brain. Jungwoo felt the same way as he drops his head on your shoulder where he marked you as his.

You both let out a sigh in unison catching your breathes. Your hands loosen round him and he slowly does the same. The car was steamed thanks to your long hour sessions of railing each others shit. You couldn’t help but notice Mark suddenly walking past the car half embarrassed.

You grew red to your face. “Oh god he saw us definitely.” You saw how happy Jungwoo was to hear that. He felt so proud of himself, like a little boy in a candy store.

He laughs a little. “Good. I’m glad he saw.” You look over at him slapping his biceps. “Jungwoo!”

You were beyond embarrassed now. You’re thinking this might be karma for you thinking you wished the girl to see instead of Mark and that was a way for life teaching you to calm your intrusive thoughts.

Jungwoo grabbed you from behind kissing your lips when you were shocked and embarrassed. He however couldn’t care less. Mark should see who you belong to.

And it’s him.

You saw Jungwoo pull away as he calms you with a kiss. He saw you stay quiet but only stare at him with a smile.

‘You were happy.’ Jungwoo thought, he was relieved to see you being your usual happy self too.

“Hey Y/n?”

Jungwoo calls out as you were both changing in the car back into your clothes so you guys can finally leave the campus parking lot. You really weren’t even aware of the time but it’s beyond the afternoon and it’s probably the evening. You seriously couldn’t get away without touching each other still. Jungwoo occasionally wraps his arms round your waist as you were changing or you would capture a kiss on his cheek when he was putting on the trousers again. It’s impossible to not touch someone as beautiful as you.

You look up at him. Jungwoo was in the driving seat and you were in the passenger now. “Hm?”

He heard you look at him and Jungwoo smiles down at your lips once again. You felt him lean in and slowly kiss you.

“Can we go back please?”

You were at a loss of words as he said this. Jungwoo was so innocent looking but the way his body, mind and probably spirit too we’re not enough has you in this physical chokehold.

But you were the same because you loved it. Smirking you look up at him. “Round 2?”

You’re more definitely coming back late to celebrate the full moon at his house.

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@onyourhyuck please refer from translating and copyrighting my work thank youu! Reblog and follow me for more updates it helps a girl out.