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jenscx · 9 months

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MY DARLING — jang wonyoung x f!reader

you were just living a quaint life in a bookstore, until a stranger barges in on a rainy day, evidently changing your life.

TAGS — very fluffy, princess!wonyoung, slight angst, jealousy (tiny), commoner!yn, flirty wony

WORDCOUNT — 3.9k

the 10th of august, 1820. you sigh at the raindrops splashing against the glass windows, tinted with a slight hue of blue. the bookstore was rarely this quiet but with everything going on in the royal castle, perhaps it was to be expected.

“no customers yet?” you whip your head up, frowning. eunbi, the owner of the bookstore and the one who had raised you, stood at the top of the flight of creaky, wooden stairs. you shake your head, “aren’t the nobles trying to popularise reading? i don’t think it is working too well.”

eunbi laughs. “sure. the literature we sell here isn’t too demanding of their literary skills. and the nobles only flock to poetry, maybe it’s time we expanded our small library.”

your eyes brighten at the thought of an increased variety of books. even though you adored the selection here, it was starting to get quite boring. the constant romance themes evident in every single book was rather… annoying.

“hm, perhaps we should close up for the day, it’s rather late and the rain is heavy. i don’t think anyone else will bear with the storm just for a quick read,” eunbi suggests and you comply immediately, packing up the stacks of papers standing tall at the counter. you were just scribbling on them to rid your boredom.

“i’ll be upstairs if you need me,” she calls out before heading up once more. you sigh again. just as you were about to close the curtains shut, the door slams open and you almost squeal.

a mysterious hooded figure stands before you, heaving up and down as quick breathes escape them.

“uhm, apologies but we are closing for the day,” you say. the figure turns and you roll your eyes. their cloak was dripping rainwater all over the mahogany wood floors that you had just polished that morning!

“terribly sorry for the intrusion,” they (you raise an eyebrow at the feminine voice) mumble, “i needed a place to get away.”

“right, i don’t really care because you are ruining my flooring, so could you take that damn cloak off?”

the person immediately does so, revealing the white fitted bodice that clung to the woman’s skin, almost translucent and you feel a blush creeping up your neck.

“you are… soaked.”

“yes, quite obviously.”

you turn away from her, eyes avoiding her own narrowing gaze as she was quite literally the most gorgeous girl you’ve ever seen.

“i’ll get you a cloth to clean yourself up with,” you mutter while the girl nods and proceeds to walk along the shelves.

if you weren’t so distracted by her apparent beauty, you would be more conscious of how familiar she looked.

moments later, you return with a cloth, and the stranger was peering at one of the many books that lined the shelves.

“fan of jane austen?” you smile when she jumps slightly at your sudden voice, “that is one of her most popular pieces of literature; pride and prejudice from 1813. though we do have earlier pieces such as ann radcliffe’s the romance of the forest, 1791.”

the woman nods, “aren’t you quite acquainted with books? any suggestions?”

“hm, perhaps persuasion by jane austen if you’re a fan, but do read most of her writings, it’s incredible.”

“what about playwrights? anyone that you’ve taken a liking to?” she asks.

you think for a while, “elizabeth inchbald. i thought lovers’ vows was spectacular. shame i couldn’t see it, sometimes i wished i was born earlier.”

“i always thought that it was too controversial and morally ambiguous for people to adore it. thankfully i’ve found someone of my own,” she says, a twinkle in her eye that you can’t help but feel your heartbeat race at. she daps at her neck with the cloth and you evert your eyes.

“a-anyway, what brings you here? you’ve distracted me from closing up.”

she places the book back into its original position and furrows her brows, “do you not recognise who i am?”

you tilt your head and lean on the bookshelves, “no, not particularly. am i meant to?”

“yes, but i’d rather you stay unknowing. if we were to be… friends, could i ask that you never try to find my identity?”

“could i at least know your name? or something to call you?”

“of course, i haven’t introduced myself. you can call me wonyoung.” wonyoung, you think, it’s a pretty name.

she flashes a gleaming smile at you, “could i know yours?”

“y/n,” you reply, “what brings you here?”

wonyoung’s posture slackens and you take the time to admire her luscious black hair that was tied into a bun with small curls and waves. you unconsciously swallow your saliva as wonyoung answers you.

“just running from my responsibilities. quite lucky of me to end up in a quaint bookstore with you, to be frank.”

your eyes trail down from her face to her collarbones, mouth going dry at the sight of her neck. god, you think, clenching your eyes shut.

“you all right? your cheeks are… flushed,” you spot a hint of a teasing smile on her face.

“how old are you?” wonyoung asks suddenly.

“i’m eighteen this year.”

“oh, i’m eighteen as well.”

you grin, “what responsibilities could you have at eighteen? we’re the same age, yet i’m just working at a bookstore.”

wonyoung shakes her head, almost sullen, “you have no clue how hectic it is back there. if here is shallow water, when i go back there, i’ll drown in the tsunami.”

“how poetic.”

“impressive, isn’t it?”

you giggle first and wonyoung’s laughter joins soon after. her laugh is melodic and soothing, a breather. it’s like you’ve just found your oasis.

and maybe she’s found hers.

your night is spent alone. no wonyoung to fill the empty spaces of silence apart from the occasional footsteps outside of the bookstore. you spent all day with her, or rather the rest of the day until she deemed too late to reach home. no matter how hard you try, your mind ends up wandering and you dream of rosy cheeks with a bunny smile.

you awake the next morning with a letter at your doorstep, addressed in neat calligraphy.

dear y/n,

i could not tell you how much i enjoyed yesterday, it was an eye-opening experience. i am definitely the luckiest person ever. i can’t believe how lucky i was to enter your bookstore and meet you. i hope we stay acquainted forever. send your reply to this address, i will wait for it.

sincerely yours,

wonyoung

if it were from anyone else, you would have found it desperate, or creepy. but even after a day of meeting wonyoung, you were enchanted.

hence, you quickly draft up a letter, perhaps she could see how much desperation there was in the messily scrawled handwriting for you to see her again.

it took almost no time for you and her to communicate daily through letters. even though you only met her three weeks ago, it felt like you’ve known her forever. wonyoung was your everything. and maybe you were her everything too. she was the part of your routine you looked most forward to.

eunbi had questioned you about your sudden enthusiasm and happiness. after all, she had been your caregiver since she had taken you in and you were never this dreamy.

wonyoung would sometimes drop by during the evening and you would spend a few hours together before she had to leave. it was the highlight of your week. a few hours would be all you could have, until a letter arrives at your doorstep.

my darling y/n,

how have you been? i found that book you’ve been raving about. i must extend my apologies for reading it beforehand, you were just too excited about it that i had to read it for myself. anyway, would your bed be free tonight? could i spend the night at your bookstore? my parents finally gave me permission to do so. i do hope you’re free, if not i’ll be missing you terribly.

sincerely yours,

wonyoung

you almost crumple up the letter in excitement. wonyoung was finally sleeping over? it was a joyous celebration. you swiftly write back, hoping that the letter would reach her in time. it always did, surprisingly. you weren’t sure if the post was meant to work that fast. you were counting down the seconds for when she would arrive and when the grandfather clock struck six thirty in the evening, a knock resounded on the door.

“wonyoung!” you squeal, rushing into her arms and burying your face into the crook of her neck. physical touch had become common between you and her, initiated by her at first but mostly done by you now. you could not resist feeling the warmth her body gave off.

“good evening, yn,” she breathes out, “i almost tripped on the way here. i was so exhilarated when i received your letter.”

you grin, quickly locking up the doors and closing the curtains. wonyoung lingers around you, a bag of clothes at her feet, you presume it contained her sleepwear.

“darling,” you feel a shiver go down your spine at her voice, “shall we head up?”

you nod and interlock hands with wonyoung, dragging her up the stairs and heading into your bedroom. your bed wasn’t tiny, but with wonyoung’s height, her feet would be dangling off the edge since your mattress was wider and not lengthy.

“you can change here, i’ll just look away,” you say.

“what if i want you to look?”

your cheeks heat up and you cover your eyes, “shut up, you flirt.”

“my sincerest apologies,” wonyoung says slowly, “do you not like it when i flirt with you?” you roll your eyes. she would always ask questions which she knew the answers to. wonyoung just wanted the satisfaction of you saying it out loud.

“i like it,” you mutter, embarrassed.

“you’re adorable,” she laughs and starts to untie the laces on her corset to reveal her shift under. you take this as your cue to turn away.

a few minutes pass and wonyoung finally says, “i’m done. you can turn around now.”

she was adorned in a long light blue night rail with lace linings. you still thought she was the prettiest girl to ever walk the earth.

wonyoung flops onto your bed and you join her.

“blow out the candle, won't you?” wonyoung requests. without the light of the candle, you can only see her face that is illuminated by the moonlight.

you both slip under the sheets, facing each other. your eyes trail along her features and your fingers ache to trace them.

“how was your day? you never answered me in your reply.”

“you were genuinely asking? i thought you asked as a formality,” you chuckle at her affronted expression.

she rolls her eyes, “of course i was genuine! i’m always interested in what you have to say.”

“why are you being so cheeky today? so many flirtatious remarks,” her long arms wrap around your waist and you giggle.

“i’m just naturally like that,” wonyoung smiles, “and you like it, don’t you?”

you nod shyly.

“i do.”

“then i’ll stay this way. be whatever that you like.”

“i like you,” you confess.

wonyoung blinks slowly. your words and sincere tone seeping into her heart as a large grin overtakes her face.

“and i adore you.”

your night, unlike the first, was spent wrapped up in wonyoung’s embrace. warmth covering your body and a smile across your face the entire time you slept. it was the most peaceful night you’ve had. yet, as all things go, it was just the calm before the storm.

something had been bothering you, wonyoung could tell. after that night spent together, you and her were inseparable. but the more time you had together, the more it seemed like you were drifting away in your thoughts.

“darling?” you turn around in her embrace, “are you all right?”

“yes, i’m totally fine. couldn’t be better than being here with you.”

“i feel the same but, are you certain? it just feels like something is bothering you. if anything, could you tell me?” wonyoung asks. your body visibly tenses up and even in the dark, she could still see how your face was contemplating.

“why did you ask me to never search for your identity?”

wonyoung suddenly unwraps her arms from around your waist. you miss her warmth instantly.

“why are you bringing this up now?” she counter asks.

you frown. “just remembered it. i was reminiscing the first time we met.”

“ah.”

“also because eunbi has been asking me about you and i don’t know what to tell her. i realised i don’t know much about you and i want to change that,” you explain.

wonyoung’s breath hitches.

“eunbi? have you mentioned my name to her?”

“no, i wasn’t too sure if i should have… wonyoung, seriously, what’s this whole ordeal with your identity? can’t you just tell me?” you ask.

you decide not to mention the fact that you have actually questioned eunbi about wonyoung. the amount of warning signs about her identity had been increasing daily and you weren’t so certain about how much you could trust wonyoung anymore.

“you’re lying,” wonyoung states.

“what?”

“you know my identity.”

“wonyoung, love—”

she separates herself from you immediately and sits upright. your bubble of tranquillity bursts and the peaceful future you’ve created for the two of you was ruined.

“i told you. i specifically told you not to go looking!” her voice raises, “and you still do? and i know you’re lying to my face! you know that…”

you can’t stand it anymore. “that you’re the princess? of course i do! how could i not remember your face and name plastered everywhere? are you not aware of how influential you are? the media has been going insane at how your birthday ball was going to be the highlight of this century! but this doesn’t mean i love you less!”

“it’s not about that! you betrayed my trust. how could you? it was the first thing i’ve ever told you; don’t go looking for my identity! and i… this isn’t going to work out. i apologise, but i have to leave,” wonyoung hisses and quickly jumps out of your bed. you can only stare in silence as she packs up her clothes and leaves out the door.

you sit there on your cotton sheets, stunned at how the evening’s played out. a sigh escapes your lips and your heart aches at the forlorn expression that wonyoung had.

you couldn’t believe that wonyoung had just left like that. you thought she would at least hear you out and it wasn’t as if you yourself had gone looking for her identity! her name was basically on every single piece of news article, how could you not know? and wonyoung wasn’t a popular name.

perhaps everything will be normal in the morning. wonyoung’s letter would show up at your doorstep, apologising for how she acted and you would still forgive her.

needless to say, you were wrong. there was no letter, and definitely no bouquet of tulips that normally accompanied the letter.

“i saw the princess stomping out, did you two have a fall out?” eunbi asks. you nod, sulking.

“she found out that i knew she was the princess and she wasn’t too enthusiastic about it.”

eunbi thinks for a moment. “aren’t you going to try to chase after her? wouldn’t it be right?”

“why should i? she said we weren’t going to work out.” repeating those words brought a new level of pain.

your caregiver laughs, “that’s exactly what sakura said as well and she ended up grovelling.”

you raise an eyebrow. “who’s sakura?”

“some foreign lady. anyway, are you going to write to her or not? her birthday’s coming up soon.”

“her birthday,” you repeat, “i could just go to her birthday banquet.” eunbi blinks, “i did not mean that but sure.”

you have a newfound sense of confidence. wonyoung couldn’t do anything if you just went to her banquet, right? well, she could just order for the guards to take you out but it was open to commoners. there was a dress code but wonyoung had gifted you a pretty expensive dress recently.

“august 30th, it starts at eleven in the evening,” eunbi informs you, “you do know your way to the castle? i have other plans that night.”

“yes, of course. thank you for the idea!” you smile. as you head off back into your room, thoughts of seeing wonyoung again run through your mind.

the day had finally come. your hair was parted in the middle with your bangs curled that occasionally twitched your eyes. your bust was pushed up ever so slightly by a tight fitting corset. you had a low cut violet gown and white gloves that extended up to your elbows.

the closer you got to the palace, the more your confidence dwindled. what if wonyoung orders for the guards to escort you out? it would be ironic for you to show up at her banquet, where she would have to reveal her identity. you shiver at the thought of wonyoung’s distrustful gaze.

what happened to staying together until death parts you two? wonyoung had been so romantic with her words, maybe it was all faux.

you shake your head. you couldn’t think of that! now, you just had to reassure her that her identity revelation would not change anything. and maybe you could even try to revert to the same relationship status as before. once you enter the ballroom, you’re surrounded by nobles and commoners alike, all dressed to the nines. you scan the room, hoping to see wonyoung.

“goodness,” one of the more fashionably dressed nobles say, “dukes from high society are starting to court her already. i heard that many are offering their whole family wealth for her hand.”

your face falls. of course there would be people wanting to court her. wonyoung was so angelic and there would be no reason for rich dukes to not throw themselves at her.

“good evening, my lady,” you spin around, facing an older woman with a rather disgruntled young man, “could i ask where you are from?” luckily, eunbi had trained you beforehand.

“miyawaki y/n,” you lie through your teeth, “i’m not from around here, just passing through to visit the princess.”

“splendid! i am from the house of lee and this is my son, heeseung,” the woman exclaims, “i thought you were a perfect match for him.”

your eye twitches.

“ah, yes.”

“i’ll leave you two to get acquainted, hopefully by the end of this ball, you will be dancing with each other.”

“my lady will not be dancing with anyone,” your heart leaps. an arm links around yours and you almost instinctively lean into the familiar warmth.

the woman stands rooted to the ground while heeseung quickly scurries off.

“m-my sincerest apologies! i did not know,” she bows. wonyoung waves a hand at her and turns to look at you instead.

before the crowd starts to gather around you, wonyoung turns her head and swiftly drags you by the wrist through the many nobles.

“wony— princess!” you shriek.

she pulls you into an empty room, away from peering eyes and eavesdroppers. her gaze on you is heavy with emotion and you can barely get a chance to identify them before she speaks.

“what on earth compelled you to come here?”

“i just wanted to see you. you ran off rather quickly last night, much like that heeseung boy.”

“y/n, you can’t just show up here looking like that. i… i told you once you found out who i really was, we could never truly be together,” wonyoung sighs.

you frown, “so you weren’t going to try anyway? were you just going to love me when it was convenient? what happened to all those sweet promises you’ve made to me?”

“i can’t keep those promises if the public found out we were together,” wonyoung clasps your hands together.

“so you were just loving me for the hell of it.”

“i sacrificed lots for you.”

“but you still can’t be with me.” you take wonyoung’s silence as her answer. there’s tears welling up in your eyes and wonyoung’s gaze darts to them instantly.

you tear your hands away from hers to wipe your tears falling down your cheeks.

“this has been… eye-opening. since we were never going to work out anyway, i should take my leave. sorry for taking up your time when you should have been spending it celebrating. happy birthday.”

your heart aches. the beats slow down but you feel like it’s been crushed into little bits, which were then thrown into molten lava and rebuilt. then crushed again by wonyoung.

“wait a moment, don’t…”

“i should have know it would have ended up like this. i’m deeply sorry again, your highness,” you say coldly, bowing.

wonyoung’s mouth is open, almost like she wants to say something. but you can’t be with someone who contradicts herself every time.

“darling,” the nickname slips out and you feel sobs wreck your body, “don’t cry, wait, please.”

“my love, please look at me, please don’t walk away, i was a fool. i wasn’t thinking at all,” wonyoung rambles out, “please stay and listen, which is ironic, i realise but i can’t believe i thought i could ever live life without you. i need you. i was just scared of what they would say, but it doesn’t matter to me anymore. i realised that you’re my only light and i will never find someone better than you. it was all my doing, i never meant to hurt you like this. i’m the one who should be saying sorry.”

wonyoung stares at you, affection and longing in her eyes. so that’s what it was.

“i’m not forgiving you just yet. you still hurt my feelings.”

“of course. i’ll grovel for eternity for your forgiveness.”

you sniffle and slap her cheek lightly, not enough to even hurt.

“i hate that you can make me feel like this.”

“like what?” she asks, looking down at you.

“like everything’s okay.”

“is everything not okay?”

a smile overtakes your face, tears still dripping down your cheeks but you feel contrary.

“don’t ever do that again,” you fling your arms over her shoulders and instinctively, her hands go around your waist.

“i adore you, and if i were to ever hurt you intentionally, please just execute me on the spot,” she whispers into your ear, making you giggle.

“executing the princess is illegal, i would be given the death sentence as well.”

“then we would be together in the afterlife at least.”

“you are such a dork.”

“only yours.”

(to my darling y/n,

i hope everything’s all right back at the bookstore. could i drop by sometime later? maybe we could even read belinda by maria edgeworth. i’ve heard it is quite a worthy read. your wedding gown is gorgeous, for your information, i reckon i’ll sob at the alter. as always, do tell me about your day later. i will be counting down the minutes until i can see your beautiful face. i love you.

forever yours,

wonyoung

to my princess,

of course you can drop by. i’m expecting more books to arrive later in the afternoon. unfortunately for you, i’ve already read belinda but i will reread it with you if you want. i hope you’re doing well back at the castle; how’s the wedding preparations going? tell me all about it later. i’ll be counting down the minutes as well. i love you too.

your darling,

y/n)

#jang wonyoung x reader #wonyoung x reader #ive x reader #ive

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wh1msic4lwasab1 · 3 months

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𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬: ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚✎

synopsis: Your english professor and you happen to enjoy the same literature, and he invites you to take a look at the libraries premium collection, to give you a little more than the suggested recommendations.

tags: corruption, power dynamic, dubcon, explicit, vulgar, cunnalingus, degredation

a/n: this is a late bday present for my bae @l0rdgeosupport3rr

wrd cnt: 1.7k

“The stranger, a fan of Albert Camus?” Your professor asked with amusement as he passed your seat in the large lecture hall, standing infront of you with his body leaned above yours to take a peak at what page you were on.

“Oh, that’s the best part.” He murmurs, seeing you pull the wired audio pieces out of yours ears.

“Huh? Oh- Yeah I’m really liking it so far, but it’s hard to annotate with a paperback.” You say, chuckling as you meet his eyes above you.

“Yes I can quite see that….Give me a minute.” He says, ignoring about 3 other students incredibly prudent with important questions.

A while passed, and you saw Professor Nanami rummaging through a shelf behind his whiteboard, full of clutter.

He comes back, “How’s this?”

He presents you with a dark red and orange hardcover of the book you were reading.

“Woah..how much was this?” You ask, carefully handing the book as to not somehow ruin it.

“I’ve forgotten since the time I purchased it. You can keep it.”

You almost have to pick up your jaw off the floor, seeping with gratitude, you reply, “Are you sure? Thank you so much Professor!”

You smile, appreciate of his friendliness.

“If you’re interested in more classics, the library has a few new hardcover editions.”

“Really? I’d like to go but I’d have to stay for hours picking the best ones.” You laugh.

“I wouldn’t mind accompanying you, I could offer you some good recommendations? I have to pick up some copies as well this afternoon”.

You agreed, excited and more appreciative of his kind gestures.

Class ends quite quickly. You stay and wait for your professor who walks with you to the library.

You use the time spent walking across campus to talk more about literature, finding lots of equal footing between the two of you.

When you arrive, he opens the doors for you to enter.

It’s quite late out already.

The library was not very populated, but many used it as an area to study.

“So, what are your favorite genres?”

You take a while to think, “Hmmm…I like romance- oh and dystopian fiction! and definitely gothic literature”.

He nods his head, seemingly impressed with your selection.

“I know the perfect place.” He adds, walking you over to a section with some books he’d assume you would be into.

Time goes by fast, and about half an hour later; you both have almost 5 books each ready to check out.

Your professor is quite observant, handing books over to you he thinks will be of interest to you, giving you a short summary of each.

You were quite impressed with his knowledge on so many pieces of literature.

He was an english teacher, but his intelligence was admirable.

As was his….everything else.

You found yourself listening quite closely to him; his lectures, his announcements, the way he spoke to you in such a respectful manner. It made you think about how he’d sound in more- intimate scenarios.

You’d drift off in class thinking about it.

He squats down to pick up a book off the very bottom shelf, putting it back though.

But then, his knuckles brushed against your hip as he pulls a third book from the shelf above, bending his back to set it on the ground, his stack growing taller.

He doesn’t say anything at the contact, secretly watching for any reactions from you.

When you display none, he only gets more bold.

“Excuse me”, he whispers, taking a book directly above your frame; pressing his crotch directly behind you, groaning at the stretch his hand travels to grab the spine.

This time you did have a reaction, something inside you told your body to move slightly back, almost unnoticeable in the way you scooted into him.

You felt the presence of him behind you, casting a shadow infront of you.

“This is a great one. Can’t believe they keep it all the way up here.”

“Catcher in the Rye? I’ve heard a lot of complaints about that one actually.”

“Pfft, the people who complain about this book just don’t know how to read between the lines. It’s an amazingly realistic book, everyone should read it at least once.”

You hear him go on more about the book, simply responding with “Uh huh” and “Mhm”’s but all you can focus on is how hard his cock felt against your ass just a minute ago. How the lighting in the library looks on him, how his rolled up sleeves display the veins that run up his arms and adorn his hands. The glare in his glasses snaps you back to reality, the reflection of your face; practically drooling over your Professor.

It felt terribly wrong, but all you wanted to do was kiss him, feel his hands on your back as he ravished you right here against the bookshelf.

“So?-“ He said.

“What? sorry- I didn’t hear you. “

He smiled, “I asked if you wanted to go ahead and take a seat.”

You nod, laughing off your little slipup.

He leads the way, you almost instinctively hold his hands, stopping yourself just in time so he didn’t notice.

The two of you sit down in between two tall science fiction shelves, secluded and honestly too dark to try and read anything.

He didn’t plan to read.

“So what are your plans here?” He asks, jumping to a completely different topic.

He removes his jacket, throwing it over the armrest of the couch next to him.

“Well- I’m not too-“

You pause, feeling his hand place itself on your knee.

“Go on dear.”

“I’m not too sure yet, but I’m interested in an aeronautic focused field.”

“Oh wow, smart girl.” He says, his hand now slowly rubbing your leg.

“Professor-“

“Kento, just go ahead and call me Kento.” He adds.

His behavior made your skin tighten, your face getting hotter from the contact he was making under the table.

A number of students could see if they just walked by.

“You were saying y/n?”

“Right…I’m just- Professor what are you doing…”

“Didn’t I just tell you to call me Kento?” He asks, his palm now grazing up and down your thigh.

“S-Sorry-“ You say, obviously stiff and embarrassed at what he was doing, incredibly ashamed of how much you wanted him to go higher.

'Don't be sorry, my dear. Just relax.”

His words sent chills down your spine and you couldn't believe what was happening. In the middle of the library, he was touching you in such an intimate way, a very inappropriate way at that.

Your mind raced as you tried to process the situation. You were a good student, always focused on your studies and never one to engage in any sort of scandal. But there was something about your professor that drew you in, something you couldn't resist. And in that moment, you didn't want to resist

As his hand reached all the way up to your your inner thigh, you let out a small gasp, feeling a surge of desire rush through your body.

“we shouldn’t be-“

Without a word, Kento started rubbing your pussy, your leg now draped over his as he felt your warmth.

“I think it’s time you stopped talking, and just listen.”

“But-“

He took your hand into his, and placed it on his own cock, guiding it to rub himself.

The two of you soon stopped talking, just exchanged wildly inappropriate glances.

“Does it feel good when I do this?” He whispers close to your lips, his thumb pressing into the space your clit is, making you grind your hips onto his hand, nodding approval as you palm his cock harder.

His breathe falls on your lips, dangerously close.

In that moment, all of your worries and doubts disappeared as you gave into the fiery passion that burned between you and Kento. His hands roamed over your body, setting every nerve on fire. As you lost yourself in the moment, you couldn't believe that this was happening but you didn't want it to stop, but you had to try before it got too far.

“wait no- someone will find us”.

He grabs your face with his palm, keeping your chin up to direct you to his eyes.

“That’s not what you really want. I think you wait me to keep going. Maybe you want to be found like this…?”

Before you can protest, you feel Kento slide your panties to the side, ignoring your skirt as he just hikes it up to your stomach, taking two fingers to spread your sticky folds.

“Looks like I was right…you’re dripping.” He breathes harshly on your earlobe, hearing your hushed whimpers.

His fingers were so long, so thick and warm.

“Is this what you wanted the whole time? Your professor to touch you?”

When you didn’t reply, he took your jaw in his hands, forcing you to look at him instead of down.

“I asked you something y/n. Or are you too ashamed to answer?”

“I- Please…keep going”.

He chuckles deeply, inserting two full fingers into you, making you gasp and cover your mouth.

“You’re such a slut.” He whispered, pulling his fingers out and gripping both your thighs as he retreats under the table.

Your eyes widen at his vulgarity.

You protest and try to close your legs, groaning when he pulls them apart forcefully and slides your panties off and putting into his back pocket.

“Shhh…don’t worry. I’ll keep you safe, just don’t make too much noise.”

“But professor- no we cant- not here…we have to st-“

He grips your thighs harder, furrowing his brows.

“How many times have I asked you to call me Kento?”

“I’m- sorry sir…“

His fingers start to play with your folds again, taking a better look at the mess you’ve been in this whole time.

“You need to have a little more trust in me. We’ll be fine…Plus, you don’t seem like you want me to stop at all dear. I can feel your clit pulsing against my thumb.”

You froze, you couldn’t argue any longer nor did you have the will to.

Instead, you gripped his hair when he started eating your cunt, grinding your hips towards him and smearing all your juices on his faces.

The sounds he made while slurping you up plus his whimpering where much louder than you, he should take his own advice.

Your body stared shaking, not knowing if it was from your professor absolutely devouring you or the chance of someone catching you, probably both.

Wasn’t he supposed to get copies or something?

whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.

#jo’s posts #jjk kento #jjk nanami #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk #nanami #nanami kento #kento #nanami smut #kento smut

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joshym · 8 months

Text

Le Morte d'Arthur: Chapter 1

Paring: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Summary: It all began with a passion for literature. What was once a dream to walk the halls of the University of Michigan is now a reality.

You thought you were prepared for everything.

A new town, a new school, a new way of life,

but what you were not prepared for…

was meeting the enigma that is Jake Kiszka.

Word Count: 8.8k+

Warnings: (for this chapter) mentions of stress & anxiety, mentions of a broken home, mentions of an ill, disabled parent, mentions of an oxygen tank & medications, jake is an asshole, (if I missed anything, please let me know)

a/n: it's here! i can't begin to express how excited i am to share this with everyone. this story has been in the works for quite some time now, & it's been such a joy to write. i sincerely hope you all love it. please don't be afraid to let me know what you think. 🤍

also, huge thank you to @jakeyt for being the best editor, & being my right hand in helping create this. i seriously couldn't have done it without you. love you SO much. you're the best sister i could ever ask for.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

As you walk up the stone steps of Angell Hall, you feel as though you’re walking into a book filled with ancient Greek Mythology. The pillars that resemble the Parthenon temple, the delicate stone work motifs that portray Athena's owl and Pegasus; you’ve truly never felt more at home than you do at this very moment as you take your first steps inside the building that houses the English Literature courses. The inside is rich with artwork personifying poetry and myth. The intricate neoclassical design of the ceilings, complete with gold leafing and imperial medallions. The most incredible building you’ve ever seen, and one of the many reasons you decided to make the transfer to the University of Michigan.

It’s been no easy feat to get here. In fact, it’s been damn near impossible. It’s by the skin of your teeth that you’re here today, walking the very halls of your dream school.

The road to get here has been hell. Pure, unadulterated hell. You’ve saved every last penny to afford the move here, while trying to take care of your mom and her declining health. It didn’t help that your dad decided it was all too much for him and left a year ago, leaving the two of you alone with hardly the means to afford even the bare necessities. With two full time jobs, online classes at some bullshit university, and tending to your mom’s every need for the last year, it’s a fucking miracle you’re standing here today.

It’s only been a month since you received your acceptance letter in the mail. You worked your ass off the last two years maintaining a 4.0 gpa to be sure you’d be accepted. You’d applied back in January and waited six excruciating months to hear back, obsessively checking the mail at least three times a day.

One day, you noticed a rather large, crumpled envelope stuffed in your tiny mailbox. It was wet from a rainstorm that had hit earlier that day, but you could still make out the sender information.

The University of Michigan

515 East Jefferson St.

1220 Student Activities Building

Ann Arbor, MI 48109-1316

You knew that the contents of this envelope would seal your fate for the next two years. You were hesitant at first to open, scared of rejection. You let it sit for a few hours before finally ripping it open as quickly as your fingers would allow.

You pulled out the sopping piece of cardstock, stamped with a golden “M” at the top left corner.

Congratulations, y/n!

You’re in! We are pleased to inform you that you are admitted to the University of Michigan College of Literature, Science and the Arts Junior class entering fall of 2023.

Within two weeks of receiving the letter, you and your mom packed up what little you had and left the sleepy town of Cherry Tree, Oklahoma.

Up until now, you’d lived in this tiny town your entire life. You’ve been so ready to leave, to find adventure elsewhere that would allow you to spread your wings. You’d been held back there for so long. You knew it was time, and as much as she could, your mother supported your choice to leave and she was eager herself to get away.

You managed to secure a low income apartment in Ann Arbor that has accommodations for those with disabilities. It’s a shithole. But it’s your shithole.

You’re solely responsible for any and all bills as your mom isn’t fit to work. You’ve got enough saved up to last about a month, so one of your first priorities is to find a job that will sustain you.

Right now, though, your current goal is to find your first class in this massive building. It’s intimidating. Everyone here is walking past you in a hurry to get where they need to go as you’re stuck, still trying to figure out where room 3182 is. There aren’t signs anywhere to help guide you through the utter maze that is Angell Hall. You haven’t the slightest clue of where to start.

You try asking a few people, only to be met with vague points in general directions, or people simply telling you ‘up stairs.’

Where are the damn stairs?

You start trekking along in an attempt to find them, when you see a large wooden door that’s cracked open just enough to see, finally, a staircase.

Some progress.

Making your way to the third floor, you assume you’ve finally found where your class will be when you look at a room number… and it says ‘2548.’

Dammit.

You head back to the stairs to make your way up to the next floor, and to your relief, the class numbers all begin with a three.

You head down the long, dimly lit hallway in frantic search for room 3182, to no avail. The hallway has so many twists and turns with no guidance for direction. There may as well be a scarecrow with arms pointing in all directions saying ‘this way!’

You’re stuck yet again, unsure of where to go. You assume everyone is in their respective classes as the hall is barren, so there’s not a soul to ask. With only two minutes until class begins, you’re nearing the point of giving up.

Anything is better than waltzing into class late on your first day, no less your first day at a university where no one knows you. What a fantastic first impression to make.

Suddenly, a man comes barging down the hall towards you. He looks a bit unapproachable, wearing a large brimmed black hat on top of his shoulder length hair, sunglasses that mimic ones worn by John Lennon in the seventies and a matching all black ensemble of linen pants and a button up, with only the last few buttons actually secured. He jingles as he moves due to an obnoxious number of necklaces sitting on his bare chest.

You’re not sure you want to bother him but desperate times call for asking strange men for directions.

“Hi, excuse me. Could you tell me where room-”

Without even acknowledging your basic existence, he seems to be in a hurry as he slams into you, knocking your brown canvas bag off your shoulder and effectively dumping everything out of it.

“Sorry,” he mumbles as he quickly turns the corner, not even bothering to help you pick up the mess he’s created.

“John Lennon wannabe motherfucker,” you mutter under your breath as you bend down to gather your belongings.

You hear footsteps coming closer to you, thinking just maybe he's decided to come back and make amends.

“Sorry about him, girl.”

You glance up just as she’s kneeling down, offering to help with your scattered books.

“Don’t pay him any mind. He thinks he walks on water,” she says as she helps you shove the last of them in your bag, now all disheveled and out of your perfect order.

“God, thank you so much. Would you happen to know where room 3182 is? I haven’t the slightest clue where I’m going.”

“Just keep going down the hall until you reach the bathroom, take a left and it’s the second room on the right,” she says, with a warm smile.

You thank her again and quickly head in that direction.

At last, you breathe a sigh of relief as you approach room 3182.

With a deep breath, you open the door to the massive lecture hall that appears more like an auditorium with its pitched floor.

All eyes are on you, the room dead silent as the professor glares at you.

“I’m so sorry I’m late, I had the worst time-”

“No matter. Just take your seat and do it quickly,” he cuts you off.

You scan the room in search of an empty seat as everyone continues to silently stare at you, eyes burning holes in your soul.

This is exactly what you wanted to avoid.

Finally you spot one on the far right corner of the room. Swiftly heading towards it, you make a horrid discovery.

Mr. John Lennon wannabe is in the seat right next to the empty one.

Of fucking course.

Grudgingly, you take your seat next to him. He shifts his body slightly away from you as you situate yourself, letting out a long, dramatic sigh once you're settled.

You decide to try and humble him with your southern hospitality, asking his name with a kind smile, to which he only responds by cocking his head in your general direction and not bothering to answer you.

What an ass.

“Now that it seems we finally have everyone here, let’s get things started. Welcome to English 450, The Quest for King Arthur. My name is Dr. Movack and I will be your instructor throughout the semester.”

You start pulling out all of your books on King Arthur, annoyed that some of them now have bent pages thanks to the mysterious man wearing all black sitting to your left.

“One of the requirements to be accepted in this class, aside from the prerequisite courses, is to have more than just the basic knowledge of Arthurian lore.” Dr. Movack continues, “Taking that into account, there is no need to waste time in starting from the beginning. However, I would like to take a moment to test your knowledge. Each person who answers correctly will receive a point towards extra credit.”

Dr. Movack begins going around the room, asking everyone basic questions and facts about King Arthur when he finally gets to you.

“I would like you to tell me which text offers the earliest reference to Arthur.”

With booming confidence, you answer, “I believe it’s around the 7th century when he is briefly mentioned in the poem titled Y Gododdin.”

The John Lennon look alike on your left lets out an obnoxiously loud chuckle while shaking his head.

“Dr. Movack, it’s a well known fact that Arthur isn’t specifically mentioned until Historia Brittonum in the 9th century. She’s clearly wrong,” he blurts out.

You know your stuff when it comes to this lore. You’ve studied it for the better part of your life and you’ll be damned if you let this man who, for whatever reason has developed a vendetta against you, try to outwit you.

“No, you are wrong. You obviously haven’t read the poem or you’d know he’s named when referencing the bravery of Gwawrddur.”

He waves his palm in your face in an attempt to silence you, the gesture causing your lip to curl in frustration. “Tell her, Dr. Movack. Tell her she’s wrong and has no idea what she’s talking about.” He asserts.

Talking about you instead of to you is a great way to piss you off and he’s on the right path towards it. His refusal to even look at you has you nearly in flames with rage.

“What’s your name, miss?” Dr. Movack asks.

“Y/n,” you respond.

Your heart is thumping out of your chest as you await the professor's response.

“It seems there may be someone here who knows even more than you, Kiszka.” Lennon’s jaw nearly hits the desk beneath him. “Y/n is absolutely right. Y Gododdin does, in fact, mention Arthur. The introduction is so slight that it’s often missed, but scholars argue that this piece does indeed contain the first true reference.”

Even through his obnoxious sunglasses, you can see the frustration painted on his face. Proving him wrong in front of the whole class serves him right.

Poetic justice at its finest.

You laugh through your nose and give yourself a metaphorical pat on the back, anticipating more praise from Dr. Movack when he says “However, miss, you will not receive your point for being late to my class.”

Lennon cackles at this, of course, feeling he’s somehow won this educational battle.

He answers his question correctly, receiving his point and commendation from Dr. Movack.

He sits back in his chair, arms crossed with a smug face, wearing a ‘kiss my ass’ grin on his lips.

You just roll your eyes and look the other direction, envisioning yourself ripping those ridiculous sunglasses off his face.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

Something you’re not used to yet, and perhaps will never get used to, is the Detroit traffic. Stuck in your beat to hell ‘92 Firebird in bumper to bumper traffic, you’re at a near standstill as you’re desperate to get home after a long day of classes. What should only be a fifteen minute drive home has already lasted more than thirty, and you’ve hardly moved an inch.

You’re sitting in silence as you don’t even have the luxury of the radio to keep you company. You’re lucky enough that this car even runs with as much shit as it’s been through. A hand-me-down from a hand-me-down, losing parts and gusto after each set of hands it passes through. You figure you’ll be the last to drive it before it meets its timely end in the very near future.

WIthout much else to preoccupy you at the moment, your mind is wandering with recollection of your first day at the school you’ve had your sights set on since your first comprehensible memory. Feeling like a fish out of water would be the most comfortable way to describe your day. It goes far beyond that.

You know it’ll take some time to settle. But you’re afraid that time won’t fix the fact that you may not truly belong here. You’ve never really fit in anywhere, even in your tiny hometown that you’d lived in your whole life. You were never fully accepted there, so what makes you think you’d be accepted here? You’d always felt so isolated in Cherry Tree, too small of a town to feel such a way. Now, you have the intimidation of a rather large city to amplify your isolation.

Aside from the nightmare that was finding your first class and the man who made you late to it, your other classes went about as well as you could’ve hoped for. You’d still managed to get lost a fair amount, but on the brightside, you’d found the campus coffee shop so you had been able to stay there for a while this afternoon.

The man, who you can only refer to as Lennon given he so rudely refused to give you his first name, was also studying in the coffee shop today, much to your dismay.

And the way he’d locked eyes with you for a brief moment before quickly looking away…

You were not sure why, but now, you can’t pry him from your ambulant mind. Something about him, aside from his insolent demeanor, is oddly enticing. He’s dark, almost mystifying. There are secrets in the air he breathes. Whether or not you want to know them, you can’t quite decide. Nonetheless, you’re intrigued.

Traffic finally begins to move at a steady pace, breaking your trance and causing your disoriented image of him to return to one filled with anger.

Mystifying or not, he was an ass for absolutely no reason. You’ve made up your mind that you will never give him the time of day again.

You pull into the parking lot of your apartment complex, your car sputtering its cry of exhaustion as you’ve put it to the ultimate test far too many times lately.

“I need you to hang on just a little longer, old friend.” You say as you throw the gear shift in park. “Just a little longer, then we’ll lay your heaping metal bones to rest.”

You trek up the stairs to your apartment, stopping at door 264. You smile as you look down to see “Don’t Knock Unless You Brought Wine” stitched on the doormat beneath your feet. Your mom insisted on it, and as ridiculous as you think it is, you’re grateful for the smile it’s brought to your tired face.

You search through your disarranged canvas bag for your key, silently cursing the fact that it’s not in its designated spot.

Finally spotting the shining silver, you pull it out and twist it in the rusted bolt to open the door.

Your mom is sprawled out on the couch, her oxygen tank filling the quiet apartment with a subtle humming. The living room television is on some old sitcom she loves with the volume muted, as per usual for her.

You don’t want to wake her, as it’s imperative that she gets as much rest these days as she can. You keep as quiet as possible while heading to the kitchen to start dinner for the two of you.

You decide on something simple; bowtie pasta with alfredo and grilled chicken.

Your mom always had a knack for all things culinary. Her skill remains unmatched, although it’s not as easy for her these days.

You sadly missed out on that trait from her. You’re lucky if you don’t burn the water. But, over the course of her illness becoming increasingly debilitating, you’ve taught yourself some easy and quick recipes to get by.

You spoon a healthy amount of pasta on each of your plates, even garnishing them with a few basil leaves for a little aesthetic.

You pour yourself a much needed glass of merlot before taking your mom’s plate to her.

You gently wake her by carefully nudging her hand.

“Dinners ready, mom. I hope it’s okay.”

She slowly begins to stir awake, looking happy to see you as you sit next to her. “I’m sure it’ll be great. Thank you, sweetie.” You help her to sit up and get stabilized before handing her her plate. “How was your first day?” She tries not to wince as she takes her first bite. Her years of being a culinary expert have made her awfully picky when it comes to food, but she’s never once outwardly complained about your cooking. Although you can tell she’s less than impressed, she would never tell you that. She knows you’re trying your best and she’s so grateful for it, especially since your dad left.

“It was alright, I guess.” You take your first bite and instantly understand her initial aversion to it. Undercooked noodles and over cooked chicken. You’re glad it’s not the other way around this time.

“Just alright?” she asks.

You don’t have the heart to tell her how draining today truly was, so you just tell her that classes were a little stressful but that it really was a great day.

You switch the subject and talk about the beauty of the campus and how badly you wish she could see it. “Maybe someday,” she says.

You want nothing more than to get her out of this dingy apartment for a day and take her around, to show her the wonder of the city. It’s been incredibly difficult watching battle her illness. She seems to grow weaker with each passing day. Although she tries to conceal it from you, you know your mom, and you can see her deteriorate before your very eyes. It breaks your heart in a million pieces, but you still hold out hope that she will get better someday.

Hope is all you have.

Until then, you just try to enjoy each and every moment you share with her.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

You’re situated outside of room 3182 nearly thirty minutes early this morning, drinking your steaming coffee and reading House of Leaves that was assigned to you yesterday in your Classic Horror course.

The real inescapable horror, however, would be sitting next to him again, so you’re here early to avoid the unnecessary cruelty you faced the other day.

Taking advantage of your extra time, you allow yourself to become immersed in the daunting novel.

You read of a man on a slow descent to insanity, discovering a manuscript that details a home that transforms on the inside, yet stays the same on the outside.

Unlit hallways that continue for ages, doors appearing where they hadn’t been before. An architectural conundrum, this house.

The words in the book appear in strange prints, some pages with them upside down, placed in strange patterns; some pages with no words at all.

The word “House” is always in the color blue, even on the cover.

The novel both fascinates you and terrifies you all at once, having read it twice before. You’ve yet to make your own interpretations on this book as they seem to change with each read. A bit of a mindfuck, as it were.

Just as you’re diving head first into the maddening depths of Danielewski's story, you hear keys jingling followed by the door to the classroom opening.

You’d been so lost in your book you hadn’t even noticed that most of the students had joined you in the hall, waiting for class to begin.

You’re the first to head inside, much to Dr. Movack’s shock. You take your seat in the front row near the podium, the furthest one away from where you assume Lennon will sit.

The rest of the class piles in, taking their respective seats and gearing up for class. Here comes Lennon, clad in all black once again– sunglasses and all. He walks right past you, humoring you by ignoring your presence.

Good. Keep walking.

As more students pile in, you notice one mindlessly walking towards you before he abruptly stops and eyes you in your seat. You simply smile and nod as he stands there with a curious look about him.

He slowly walks away, leaving you a bit puzzled but you choose to ignore it.

The hands on the antique brass wall clock strike 10:00 am, and you notice Dr. Movack is still out in the hall speaking with someone. Of whom, you can’t quite tell.

You and the rest of the class wait patiently, when finally Dr. Movack walks in, but he’s not alone. He’s with the student who glared strangely at you just moments ago.

The student is standing near the professor, as if he has something to say, when Dr. Movack clears his throat and begins speaking.

“I feel I needn't say this, but it’s clear some of you aren’t aware of how things are done around here, so I will say it this once so that we all understand. Once you choose your seat on the first day of class, that becomes your designated seat for the remainder of the semester. It is disruptive to your fellow classmates to decide to take the seat they specifically chose as their throne for learning.”

Your chest tightens and your face becomes flush with unease.

You know instantly that he’s talking about you.

“So, I will end this here: if you are not sitting in the spot you chose on the first day of class, I suggest you move to said spot immediately so we can get started with our business.”

Shit.

You’re utterly humiliated as you slowly stand up, you being the only one to stand up and making it abundantly clear to everyone in class that you were the cause of this.

You take your things and move to the spot you so desperately wanted to avoid, right next to Lennon who is covering his mouth with his hand, giggling at your shame.

The student standing by Dr. Movack takes his rightful seat as you take yours.

The class you had been most excited for this semester is quickly turning out to be the one you wished you had never signed up for.

You made a terrible impression on the first day by being late, and now on the second day of this class, you’ve broken an unspoken rule that you had no previous knowledge of. All of that topped off with the man sitting next to you who has made his distaste for you rather clear… the only thought tormenting your mind is how badly you wish you could crawl in a hole and never have to show your face in this class ever again.

“I have an important announcement,” declares Dr. Movack as he takes post behind his podium. “Through the entirety of this course, you will be working on a semester-long project relating to the appropriation of Arthurian legend. This project is fairly at your liberty, meaning there are very few stipulations for you to follow.”

Okay, this is something you can handle. Something to sink your teeth into, something you know you’ll excel at.

“This will not be a solo project, however.”

Oh no.

“There are exactly fifty students in this class, so you will be paired in twos for a total of twenty five projects.”

Please no.

“As far as who you will be assigned with, that is very simple. The person seated next to you is who you will work with for the remainder of the semester.”

With Lennon being the very last seat in your row, and you being directly next to him, this means…he will be your partner. For the entire semester.

You were cursed from the first day you stepped foot in this room and had to sit next to him. Fate would have it so things would not work in your favor, it appears.

“This project is not to be taken lightly as it is worth sixty percent of your final grade. Everything in this class will lead up to it, so I suggest you take your readings very seriously.”

He will ruin this for you, no fucking doubt.

He won’t even give you the grace of telling you his first name, and now you have to work on a huge project with him for four months? A project worth more than half of your grade?

That hole you debated on crawling in is sounding better and better by the minute.

“Well, guess that makes us partners.” To your disbelief, Lennon speaks his first words to you in lieu of his typical 'at you' approach. “The nice thing is that it guarantees me a good grade.”

“Is that your way of admitting I know more about this than you do, Kiszka?” you snark. He cocks an eyebrow above his black lenses as you dare to utter his last name.

“Not quite.” He snorts a condescending chuckle, “I can tell you’re the type to work towards the best grade possible, hence, ensuring my success in the process. Shall I thank you now or later?”

Lennon’s got you there.

You take projects like these rather seriously, and this one will be no exception. As much as you’d love to set him up for failure, that would warrant your failure right along with him.

It’s the perfect scenario for him and a living nightmare for you.

Lovely.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

You walk through the open doors of the lecture hall for your next class, spotting yet another familiar face amongst the students, only this one much more kind and welcoming.

You recognize her as the kind soul who helped you the other day when your bag was senselessly knocked off your shoulder by your favorite Lennon impersonator.

“Hey!” she says as she notices you, “Come sit next to me!”

You’re nearly taken away by her beauty as you sit beside her, finally able to get a better look at her this time.

Her glowing caramel skin, her eyes light and honest with a sepia tone, her dark brown curls that are unruly yet flawlessly styled, held perfectly on top of her head with the most beautiful satin scarf.

“Thank you again for helping me the other day. You’re a saint for that.” You hang your book bag on the back of your chair, pulling out its contents for class. “You’ll never believe this, but that guy that slammed into me with no remorse, he’s in my class. The one that he made me so late for. And because of that, we’re partnered together for a semester-long project.”

“Ah yes, Jake,” she says under a giggle, adjusting her dark green, slouchy sweater off her toned shoulder. “He’s something else, that’s for sure. He’s got a good heart but he covers it with that mysterious, dark facade that he thinks makes him look so cool.”

Alas, Lennon does have a first name after all. Although, you prefer the nickname you’ve given him.

“Well, Jake has made it rather clear that I am not his favorite person and I can’t for the life of me figure out why. I’m not sure how we’ll manage to make it through this semester together with his shitty attitude.”

She hums under her breath, slowly shaking her head as if to say ‘just you wait.’

“My name’s Natalia. Where’d you fly in from?”

The way her name rolls off her tongue with her slight accent is nothing short of beautiful.

“Just a miniscule town in Oklahoma. Is it really that obvious that I’m not from here?” you answer in a hushed tone, half embarrassed to admit such a thing.

She grins as she sings a few words from the title track from the beloved Rodgers and Hammerstein musical, showcasing her stark white teeth that compliment her glowing, tanned skin perfectly.

“I hate to tell you Ms. Oklahoma, but you do kind of stick out like a sore thumb,” she quips.

Having gone from a small, southern town to the outskirts of Detroit, you’re bound to look like an outsider until the culture shock wears off, much to your discontent.

As much as you wish you could quickly adapt and easily blend in, it’s just not possible. Your face twinges as you remember your first day, specifically that one class you’d care to not mention any further.

“Welcome, students, to Women in Literature. My name is Dr. Lacey and I’ll be your instructor through the duration of this course.”

Class begins and you both submerge yourself in a study that’s particularly important to each of you.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

“I can’t call you Ms. Oklahoma forever, you know.”

You and Natalia have the rest of the day free from classes, so you decided to walk with her to the Central Campus library to do some studying.

“I guess you’re right,” you say through a laugh. “My name is y/n.”

You walk across the large courtyard full of lush green grass, intricate steel benches and the most lovely hydrangeas colored a deep purple.

The Michigan landscape is a far cry from anything you had ever seen in Oklahoma. Everything's so green and flourished, so full of life. Vibrant colors paint the scenery in the most beautiful vision.

The weather is nearly perfect, with the temperatures never exceeding the mid seventies and the humidity far below the excruciating levels of the southern states.

You’re in awe as you go day to day with the sheer beauty of the nature that surrounds you.

Suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, your curiosity begins to take over your every thought. Jake Kiszka. Your semester-long partner. You need to know more about him, as much as you attempt to relinquish the desire.

You finally build up the courage to ask. “So, how do you know him?”

She looks at you upon your inquiry, squinting her eyes as she studies your face. “Who, Jake?” She says with a sinister grin about her.

“Yes, Jake. What is it about him that he feels the need to treat people like they’re beneath him?”

“Ah, Sir Jacob,” she says. “He’s a bit of an enigma, I guess you could say. And yes, he is single.” She throws you a wink as you stare at her with utter disgust at her wisecrack.

“I do not care if he’s single,” you respond, causing her to snort a chuckle.

“I’ve known the guy for years. We go all the way back to the golden days of our youth. He and his twin brother graduated high school a year before me, and their younger brother was a year below me.” A twin? There’s two of him? “I’ve known their family for the better part of my life. Good people, truly. I can’t begin to tell you how much they’ve helped my family and me.”

You’ve only just met him, but the words ‘good’ and ‘Jake’ don’t seem to belong in the same sentence.

“Incidentally enough, his twin, Josh, and my brother, Malachi, have been partners since they graduated together. So, they’re kind of my family, too.” You walk up the steps to the library as she holds the large wooden door open for you.“I promise you, y/n. He’s not all bad. You’ve just seen what he projects to people he doesn’t know. Like I said, he thinks it makes him look cool.”

Your thoughts momentarily stop as you take your first steps into the library. You’re in shock. Though, you shouldn’t be. Every single building you’ve stepped foot into on this campus is absolutely immaculate, and the library is no exception.

It’s almost bewitching, with thousands of books lining the walls, reaching chandeliers that seem to hang from the clouds at their height.

The alluring musty scent of aged novels fill your senses and take you back to a time long since forgotten.

It’ll be far too tempting to spend all of your time here, getting lost in the pages that fill the space of grandeur.

You’ve been stuck in a near trance by the beauty surrounding you, you hadn’t even noticed that Natalia moved behind the circulation desk.

“It’s also his way of keeping his guard up. It’s rare that anyone gets to discover the true Jacob,” she says as she types away at the computer sitting at the desk.

“Um, Natalia?” You quietly ask. “Should you be back there?”

She laughs as she takes in your slightly terrified expression, “Well I would say so, ya know, since it’s the start of my shift.”

“You work here?” How could anyone be so lucky as to work in such an immaculate setting?

“It’s a pretty sweet gig. It’s not the most thrilling job but it’s nice and quiet. I get to spend my days among books, and the tuition break is a pretty nice incentive.” She secures her gold plated magnetic name badge to sweater, making her look rather official.

A job on campus would be utter perfection for you. You’ll be spending a vast majority of your time here anyways, and the tuition break would be a significant help in your situation.

“Do you happen to know of any other jobs on campus that are hiring?” you ask, almost embarrassed, but you have a feeling you can trust her. “I’m kind of in a pinch to find something soon. Desperate, actually.”

She rests her chin between her index finger and thumb, seeming to ponder your question. “I know of a few,” she says. “One that just so happens to be in this very library, if you’re interested.” Her voice carries an almost sarcastic tone, she knows you’re interested.

“Oh my god, are you serious? I would love to work here!” you say.

“I figured you would.” She rummages through the credenza and pulls out a sheet of paper entitled ‘Employment Application’ and sets it on the desk in front of you.

“Go ahead and fill this out, and I’ll consider putting in a good word for you.” She winks at you as she hands you a pen.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

Classes have become increasingly difficult. It’s nothing you can’t handle, but you find it hard to make time for much of anything outside of work and school.

You started your new job at the library one week ago today. You pick up as many shifts as possible, mostly evenings and nights as your days are taken up with your classes. The library stays open until ten o’clock, so most nights you don’t get home until at least ten thirty.

You set aside a little time after class everyday to run home and take care of your mom before work, making her dinner and being sure her nightly medications are set out before you head back to campus.

As busy as you are, you truly love your job and you’re immensely excited about your studies.

Your friendship with Natalia has bloomed beautifully over the last week.

You’re so grateful for her. She has been your saving grace lately as this last week has been a bit treacherous. Her companionship has been a major help in your adjustment to this new way of life and your somewhat rigorous schedule.

Jake, on the other hand–well, things are about the same. You’ve set aside your pride a few times this week in an attempt to get along with him for the sake of your project, but he just brushed you off, every single time.

This project is massive, and not having it started yet, or even having a single idea about what you’ll do with it, is giving you serious anxiety.

The tension with him seems to grow by the day and you’re almost at the end of your rope with it. You don’t know how to fix it, but you need to figure out something soon so you can bury this unnecessary hatchet and focus on your shared assignment.

–

After running home to make dinner for your mom and tend to a few chores, you make it back to campus just in time to begin your shift.

Tonight, you’re in charge of contacting students with missing books and tacking on late fees to their accounts if necessary.

You’re sitting at the computer, scrolling through the seemingly endless list of students and calling them to let them know of the fees they’ve accrued.

Most of them are rather displeased with you upon your notice, some of them even giving you a small piece of their mind before abruptly hanging up on you.

You make phone call after phone call, trekking through the list organized alphabetically by last name.

At last, you’ve made it to the end of the J’s. Your task for the evening was to make it halfway through the list, and you’re nearly there as you begin contacting students whose last names begin with K.

Upon reading the name of the next student, your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach.

Kiszka, Jacob T (1): Le Morte d’Arthur (Norton Critical Edition) - Mallory

“You can’t be serious,” you mumble.

You debate on ‘accidentally’ skipping him, but you don’t want anything to jeopardize your brand new job.

You have to call him, and you’re not looking forward to it.

You suddenly hear the voice of your boss in the back of your mind, “It’s proper etiquette to always state your name when calling students, so be sure to introduce yourself with each call you make.”

You quickly make up your mind that you will not mention your name during your call to him. The last thing you need is any more awkward air between you two.

You dial his number and wait, listening to the ominous ringing from the other end.

Your eyes are pinched shut, your palms sticky with sweat as you secretly hope he doesn’t answer.

Then, the ringing comes to a stop, “Hello?”

Shit.

“Is this Jacob?” You use your best professional tone, hoping to disguise your voice as much as you can.

“This is he,” he responds, the statement ending in more of a question.

“Hi, Jacob. This is y/n with the Central Campus Library.”

Fuck.

You throw your head in your hand, mentally cursing yourself for letting your name slip through. Maybe he didn’t notice, you think to yourself.

There’s an uncomfortable silence for a moment before you clear your throat and continue speaking.

“I’m calling about your overdue copy of Le Morte d’Arthur.”

“Y/n? Aren’t you in my class?” he asks.

So much for him not noticing.

Ignoring his question, you proceed “It looks like you checked it out over the summer and it’s now twenty eight days overdue. Per policy, there has been a fee of seven dollars and fifty cents added to your account. If it is not returned by the thirty one day mark, you will receive anoth-”

He patronizingly cuts you off before you can finish, “You’re in Movack’s class, huh? You sit right next to me.”

With a sigh of frustration, you finish telling him that he must return it within three days or he’ll receive a much heftier fee.

“Yeah, okay. We’ll see about that,” he says before hanging up on you. His short tone has infuriated you beyond belief.

“Asshole,” you exclaim as you slam the phone down on the receiver causing a booming echo to erupt throughout the building. Luckily, the only other person here with you is Natalia. She’s been in the back sorting books while you’ve been dealing with overdue rentals.

Her boisterous laughter adds to the echoing bouncing off the walls. “I heard that,” she yells.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

You’re especially dreading Dr. Movacks class today after your phone call with Jake last night. You know for a fact that things will be even more tense with him today, and you’re just not in the mood to deal with it.

The exhaustion from everything piled on your plate has really begun to set in. Jake is the last thing you want to worry about. With each unpleasant interaction with him, your impatience grows to new levels.

With the support of your large cold brew in hand, you gather the nerve to walk into class.

“So you work at the library, huh?” Jake says as you take your seat.

“Yep,” you say in response. You pull out your phone and scroll mindlessly, giving him the hint that you’re less than interested in talking with him.

Class begins, and Dr. Movack starts his lecture on Arthurian timelines. You’re trying to pay close attention, but you find yourself becoming increasingly distracted– by Jake.

He smells so good– a mix of sandalwood and vanilla. You’ve noticed it before, but for some reason it’s particularly exhilarating today.

You chalk it up to delusion from fatigue and force yourself to pay attention to the lecture.

But fuck if it isn’t hard has hell to ignore.

You reach for your coffee, glancing Jake's way when you make yet another intrusive realization.

The way he grips his pen so tightly– the veins in his hand and forearm protrude in the most captivating way.

Your eyes slowly follow a trail to his pecks, the curve of them seen just beneath his partially open, black—of course—button down. You watch them tense slightly with each word he writes.

Dr. Movack ends the lecture and you suddenly realize you’ve been staring far too long.

“Can I help you?”

You’re instantly mortified at him catching your stare. Desperate to find any excuse, you happen to see his copy of Le Morte d’Arthur sitting underneath his notebook. Thank god.

“Your book,” you point to the novel. “You need to return it.”

He huffs a laugh as he takes his sunglasses off, leaving you stunned. This is the first time you’ve seen his face without their obstruction—and the first time you’ve ever seen his eyes.

His eyes are kind and warm. They glow amber brown like a glass of whiskey on the rocks, intoxicating you just as the smooth drink would.

“I still have two days, right?”

You saw his lips move, but the sound that came from them was muffled in your head as you’re entirely mesmerized by his eyes.

“Right?” he asserts, breaking you from your trance.

You blink your eyes a few times to bring yourself back to earth as your brain registers what he had said.

“What? Y– yes, you still have two days,” you say. “You know it’s not a required reading until later on in the semester, right? Why do you need it right now?”

“Maybe I wanted to get a head start,” he says while tossing it in his black leather satchel. “Maybe it’s not any of your business.” He swiftly gets up and walks away, leaving you completely frustrated yet again.

Your journey to your next class feels more like a rigorous trudge. You’re walking fast and hard, stomping your feet with each step as your anger towards Jake exudes through your body.

Not only are you pissed at his stupid fucking attitude, you’re pissed that you find him so damn attractive.

How could you possibly find someone like him appealing? Appealing to the eye, yes, but that’s where it stops. He’s a walking rain cloud hovering over you, stealing all the sunshine from your day in only a matter of a single class period.

You’re impatiently counting the days until this class– until this project– is over and done with so you can move on and live a peaceful existence.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

It’s just about time to close the library and you could not be more ready. The last few days have been incredibly draining. With homework piling up in heaps, multiple tests to study for and working nearly every night, your stress is at an all time high.

Thankfully, tomorrow is Saturday. This will be your first day off all week and you’re beyond ready for some much needed relaxation. You just need to get through these next five, excruciating minutes.

It’s been awfully quiet tonight and you’re grateful for it since you’re the only one working, but the lack of students has made the shift feel much longer than usual.

You glance up at the clock that says it’s two minutes until ten. Given you haven’t seen any signs of a student in hours, you figure it would be okay to go ahead and lock up a few minutes early.

Just as you're about to twist the lock on the bolt, someone from the other end hastily turns the knob and pushes open the door with great force, causing you to stumble backwards.

Standing before you with their overdue book in hand, and to your utter disgust, is Jake.

“We’re closed, Jake.”

He takes a few steps inside as he points behind you at the clock. “According to that, you’re still open for one more minute and I need to return my book.”

Of fucking course he waited until the literal last minute.

You want nothing more than to turn him away and tell him he’s shit out of luck, but technically, he’s right. He’s entered the building before closing and according to policy, you have to serve him.

Son of a bitch.

You bring your hand up to rub your forehead, trying to relieve some tension before you begin this process with him. “Follow me,” you say as you head back to the desk.

There’s an awkward silence lingering between you two as you sign into the computer, the only sound being his fingers tapping away at the desk as he impatiently waits for you.

“You could’ve just put it in the drop box outside, you know. They would’ve gotten it on Monday morning,” you tell him.

“Yeah, but then it would’ve been late. I’m not letting you all charge yet another absurd late fee,” he retorts.

“You should’ve turned it in on time, then.”

You seem to have struck a nerve with him given the way his jaw clenched at your statement. You just can’t bring yourself to care– he’s the one forcing you to stay late when all you want to do is go home and go to bed.

You go through the return process as quickly as you can. You finish, giving him his copy of the document that states he brought the book back.

“Thanks,” he says. “Now I would like to check it back out, please.”

Are you fucking kidding.

You know he’s doing this just to spite you.

You throw your hands down on the keyboard, “Seriously? Why can’t you just come back on Monday?”

“Because I need it this weekend,” he claims.

“What could you possibly need it for?” Any semblance of patience you may have had left has officially walked out the door.

“Didn’t I tell you it was none of your business?”

You take a deep breath and push it back out in a long sigh. You just don’t have it in you to argue anymore, so you accept defeat and begin checking it back out to him.

You don’t say anything as you hand him a pen and the checkout slip for him to sign. He grabs the pen, looking at you with a slight guilt-ridden expression before giving his signature.

“I’m working on a film with my brother, and I need the book to help him write the script.” This is the first time you’ve ever noted a hint of sincerity in his voice. The features of his face have softened– you can tell this is important to him.

You flip delicately through the tattered and stained pages of the book. “I have my own copy of this out in my car,” you say. “I’ll just let you borrow mine. It’s in much better condition than this one, anyways.”

He agrees as you take the slip from under his fingers and crumple it, throwing it in the trash can under the desk. He waits a few minutes, letting you lock up.

Then, he follows closely behind you to your car to retrieve the book.

You bend at the waist to dig for the book in the mess of your backseat. When you do so, you hear him take a deep inhale, and then blow it out in an exhale.

Is he annoyed with you having to dig? Because he can get the fuck over it.

Just as you hear him clear his throat in impatience, you’ve found the book. You stand and hand him the book, annoyed with him and ready to leave. He thanks you, and you nod, bidding him a hasty ‘good night’… you’re just ready to get home.

He begins to walk away, but stops and turns back around to face you.

Fuck. You’d been so close to being in the car, on your way home. Dammit.

“This film my brother’s doing,” he says. “Its focus surrounds the adultery of Arthur and Guinevere. He asked me to help him, and I was thinking…” You nod your head to let him know to keep going. “Well, if we both helped him, we could use it for our project.”

Your interest is certainly piqued. “Yeah, that could work. I’ve written a few scripts and designed theoretical sets for a couple film electives before… so I could definitely do that.”

“He could use more help with all of that for sure, but what he really needs are actors, specifically ones to play Arthur and Guinevere. He’s been begging me to play Arthur and I agreed, but now he’s on my case about finding someone to play Guinevere and, well...” He gestures his arms towards you, signaling that he thinks you should play her.

“Um…,” you take a minute to figure out how to politely turn him down as you feel a blush rise to your cheeks. You’d never admit it, but just the mere thought of interacting with him so intimately in those roles has your stomach doing weird flips. “Jake… I– I don’t know about that. I’m much better behind the camera, acting just isn’t really my thing.”

“Just give it a try,” he insists. Why does he seem so adamant? Geez. “And if you hate it, you can do something else. But I think you’d be great at it, really.” He smiles at you, the first time you’ve seen a true, genuine smile from him.

Well, fuck.

You want to say no, you should say no. With how he’s treated you thus far, you don’t owe him anything. But– you can’t deny how it would help your project. And this project in Movack’s class… It's important to you. It would be fantastic to have it to back up your own project…

And, aside from that, his smile is making it awfully hard to turn him down right now.

If you were alone, you would have slapped your forehead at the utter chaos in your head, leading to your ultimate decision.

With a little hesitancy, you speak up, “I guess I could stop by. Feel out the role…”

His features seem to lift more at that. You pay it hardly any mind.

And with his final reply, his velvet-toned voice has a brand new, excited, air to it. “It’ll be really amazing, I promise.” Then, he chuckles, almost to himself. “It’ll definitely be interesting,” he shakes his head, a grin still lifting his cheek. “But really… I think it’ll be great. I know my brother and you will get along. He’s also one hell of a director.”

Minutes later, as you’re climbing into your driver's seat, you take a few minutes to sit in the silence of your car.

Trying your damnedest to block out the obnoxious fluorescent lighting of the parking lot, you stare through your windshield into the black night sky.

And when normally, the blanket of black would bring you a sense of peace and comfort, tonight it’s different. Tonight, you can’t help but feel a burgeoning sense of timidness as you fail to find answers to your new predicament in the night sky.

What in the hell had you just agreed to?

taglist:

@jakeyt @alwaysonthemend @sacredjake @jakesgrapejuice @misshunnybee @reesetrippingthelight @way-to-go-lad @iffypanic @sinarainbows @klarxtr @brinlygvf @stardustjake @gretavanbear @gvfmelbourne @sinsofstardust @literal-dead-leaf @livkiszka @gvf-ficreads @jaaakeeey @capturethechaos @neptune2324 @jaketlove @thetroublegetssoloud71 @myleftsock @sanguinebats @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface

a/n: let me know if you'd like to be tagged, or follow this link to be added. 🤍

love you all SO MUCH

Le Morte d’Arthur Masterlist

Masterlist

#jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka fanfiction #jake kiszka smut #greta van fleet fanfiction #gvf fic #jake fic #jake kiszka #le morte d’arthur

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ma1dita · 19 hours

Note

Why do I see Luke and trouble being like "Shut up and kiss me" after Luke or trouble (whichever) talks about something they enjoy and the other is like I'm gonna kiss them cause they're so cute

done and dusted

luke castellan x dionysus!reader

a/n: fun lil short blurb for lukie pooks!! enjoy kissing him lol ty for the req morghen this was from a while ago-> check out my partners in crime series if you wanna see more

wc: 675

There’s a subtle curiosity that fills the air whenever Luke Castellan is around. You know by now not to deify gods nor people, much less a curly-headed boy with flighty eyes and a grin that always makes you feel like he knows something you don’t.

“Dangerous… the way you’re looking at me right now, trouble.” Luke’s grin is almost evil as his gaze washes over your curled up frame on the tattered couch. You’re gathering fabrics and props from the basement of the Big House for the next play you’ll organize, and Luke came along to help you carry some boxes (you’re more than strong enough to do so by yourself, but he just wants some alone time with his girl).

“M’not even doing anything! Just looking at you,” you smirk, bumping his hip against yours and his cargo pants brush against the skin of your thigh. He hisses, dust clouding your view of him when his leg catches the edge of the wooden table in the corner of the room.

“What’s this for again?” he sniffles, wiping his nose and tossing a headpiece into another box as he watches you sort through sequins and scrolls on the floor.

“Romeo and Juliet. Classic. You know I have a thing for Shakespeare,” you begin to ramble, swooning over one of the greatest love stories of all time but all Luke can do is focus on the one between the two of you. He’s oddly quiet, and you turn from your bent over position to see him admiring the view. Rolling your eyes you grumble, “Babe, were you even listening?”

“Yeah, you were talking about having a thing for a dead guy that isn’t me….” he teases, pulling you in by the belt loops as your hands trail up to wrap around his neck, “and you were about to tell me about how much you love me!” He smiles stupidly, like it’s a matter of fact. He’s incredibly lucky it is, he thinks, as you crack a smile and kiss his jaw, shaking your head at your boyfriend’s antics. “That’s not even what I was trying to say, Luke. Even though I do love you. What I was saying is that Romeo and Juliet is an amazing piece of literature because no matter what they go through, it all starts and ends with love. How beautiful is that?” you yap, not noticing that he’s backing you onto the edge of the dusty table. Like you weigh nothing, between your breaths you’re lifted onto said table with a yelp and his hands stay firm and warm on your hips.

“You’re beautiful.”

“For gods’ sake, Luke,” you giggle, “what do you want?”

His nose trails a path from your collarbone to your cheek and up into your hair—the scent of you overpowering the other elements in this decrepit room. Sweet, and soft, and his.

“I want the love of my life to just shut up for a second and kiss me. How about that?” he murmurs, lips already brushing against your growing grin as you pull him in by the curls on the nape of his neck.

Sometimes he wishes it was more normal to keep eyes open during a kiss. Luke doesn’t want to miss a single second of you even as you occupy all of his senses—the plush of your skin under his wandering hands, the smell of your perfume wafting as he pulls you closer into him, the sounds of your soft moans under his ministrations and the taste of you in his mouth as you slip your tongue against his own, dancing in familiarity in tune with your noises. He sneaks peeks of you through heavy eyelids—unable to rip away from the sight of your bliss in his arms.

And then you’re pulling away with a smirk, “M’not letting you defile me in a dusty basement, much less in my dad’s house.”

His lips press against your temple as he sighs, moving in the shape of words you can barely make out.

“Worth a shot.”

#made by ma1dita ♥︎#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x dionysus!reader #pjo x reader #percy jackon and the olympians

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queenshelby · 1 year

Text

Yes! Mr Murphy (Rewritten)

PART ONE: ONE NIGHT STAND

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Smut, Age Gap

Notes/Background:

As mentioned before, I have decided to rewrite this story which is a story I have become invested in. I made some changes to the background, location and interactions between my characters so that I can follow a story outline and whilst the reader in this fic has a very specific racial and social economic background, I decided to use reference to “you” and “Y/N”. I hope no one is put off by this.

The fic plays in 2022 and, in midst of going through separation, Cillian has decided to take six months off from acting in order to volunteer at the Gaiety Theatre’s School of Acting, located in the heart of Dublin.

The following characters are relevant to this story:

Cillian (46)

In this fictional piece, Cillian is 46. Just six weeks ago, he moved out of his material home following yet another argument with his wife Danielle who, just like him, works in the industry. She is an actress.

He now rents an apartment in Dublin while going through the initial stages of divorce and, whilst he is struggling to adapt to his new life, he knows that it had been coming. Their marriage had been in distress for the past two years, ever since Danielle cheated on him with another actor while on set.

Danielle (42)

Danielle is Cillian’s soon to be ex-wife. She, too, is struggling to adapt to the new living arrangements but has already gone on a few dates in order to get her mind of the separation.

Danielle will play an important part later in this fic.

Dermont (50)

Just like in real life, Dermont is Cillian’s friend who has been trying hard to get Cillian to go out and let his hair down.

Dermont too is married, with children, and will play an important part throughout this fic.

Nina (13)

Nina is Cillian’s daughter who he sees occasionally now that his wife makes it difficult for him to gain access to his children. Nina, however, has her own mind and does what she wants, causing some trouble for both of her parents.

Nina’s biggest passion is dancing and she attends an elite program at the Dublin Academy of Dance. The lessons take place twice per week, after school.

Nina also has a close relationship with Cillian’s mother, aka Grandma Murphy.

Max (16)

Max is Cillian’s son and spends a little more time with his father than his mother would like. At 16, he too does his own thing and, just like his father, he enjoys acting.

Kit (32)

Kit is Cillian’s personal assistant and will play a bigger part in this fic later on.

James (24)

James is your on and off boyfriend throughout this fic and attends acting classes with you.

Lorraine (23)

Lorraine is one of your friends. Lorraine also attends acting class with you.

Emma (23)

Emma is your best friend. You share a small studio apartment with her which, essentially, is all you can afford. Emma moved to Ireland with you in 2019 after you both received an international scholarship through an UNESCO project. Both of you migrated to America as children, without parents, and went through the so-called foster system there. You never found a real home back in the US and Emma was always the one who kept you in check and, whilst you were dedicated to your work, you did some things in your teens of which you were not exactly proud of.

You (22)

After having been in and out of foster care in the US, in 2019, you moved to Ireland through a scholarship program.

You are interested in literature, theatre, acting, music and, in particular, dancing.

You are an incredible dancer and teach ballet and contemporary dance to students at the Dublin Dance Academy after spending most of your days at the Gaiety Theatre’s School of Acting, learning how to act on stage.

You are in your final year of studies and your dream is to act, on stage, in front of a large audience. Unfortunatly for you though, you are rather self-conscious about your past and sometimes struggle with confidence.

What you do not know however is that your life is about too change following a night out in Temple Bar with your best friend. You will leave your past behind and become more confident with the help of someone who you never thought you could connect with.

CILLIAN’S POV

‘Common Cill! You need to get out of the house and have some fun. Let’s go for a pint. Or two…’ Dermont said to his friend as they were sitting on the couch, talking about how Cillian’s wife had caused some problems again with the children’s school. Cillian was frustrated and the exhaustion was written on his face.

He felt depressed and upset that it had come to this as, for years, he tried hard to stay with Danielle for his children’s sake. Eventually though, he gave up and this meant that he could see his children less often now, only three out of seven days per week, unless, of course, Danielle changed her plans.

After twenty years, the love was gone and so was the passion. Danielle was no longer loyal to him and Cillian had to revaluate his life at the age of 46. The two of them fought a lot and this affected the children who, just last week, said to Cillian’s mother that they were glad for the fact that their parents had finally called it quits.

Ever since their separation though, Cillian acted like hermit and stayed at home. He watched TV or listened to music, not feeling the need to go out until, eventually, his best friend had enough of it.

“I don’t know pal. I am not in the mood” was what Cillian said while Dermont barged into his friend bedroom and opened up the cabinet, looking for something for Cillian to wear.

“Too bad. We are going out. I am not taking no for an answer” Dermont responded before telling his mate to go and shower which, eventually, he did.

YOUR POV

It was Thursday evening, around 6 o’clock when you sat in the university library and packed up your books and laptop before making your way to Temple Bar. As usual, you were late and your friend Emma was probably already waiting for you.

Ten minutes later, she indeed greeted you at the door of the overcrowded pub, telling you that you were being impolite for keeping her waiting.

“I am sorry. I got caught up reading. Drama School is back next week and I need to be prepared” you said, apologising to your friend before giving her a tight hug.

“Nah, don’t apologise. I was just teasing you. I couldn’t possibly be angry at you” she smiled in response and, the truth was that, instead of being angry, she felt truly sorry for you.

You had recently broken up with James again and the break up itself was a difficult one. You were on and off, breaking up continuously, but this time you were certain not to go back to him. He had cheated on you after you had been with him for three years and the fact that he could do something so cruel broke you.

In the end, however, you stopped drowning yourself in self-pity and when Emma called you up, suggesting a girls’ night out, you agreed to join in.

Unfortunatly for you, however, your other friends, Nora and Lorraine did not come. They both attended Drama School with you and decided to see a play at the Gaiety, which was something you couldn’t afford to do. Thus, it was just you and Emma and Emma was certainly the odd one out between the four of you.

She was not in the same class with you and the others but, instead, studied fashion design worked as a bartender in Chelsea. She had dropped out of Drama School last year and was funky, outgoing and somewhat weird.

“So, are you ready to get tanked?” Emma asked as you simply stood there when you walked in, still pondering about your failed relationship.

“I rarely ever drink Emma” you reminded her and, the truth was, that you didn’t like to go out to bars and pubs either. You much rather sat at home with a good book in your hand while listening to some music.

“Well, too bad! Go and find a seat for us. We are going to get drunk and bitch about everything we hate about men, and believe me, I have a long list" Emma joked before disappearing into the crowd in order to fetch you a drink.

Just as Emma walked off, you looked around to see if you could find a table inside the crowded room but, to your disappointment, most of them were already taken.

It was a long weekend so the fact that most people were out drinking did not really surprise you and, when Emma returned with drinks in her hand, you could not help but laugh. She had purchased the most ridiculous looking cocktails, featuring both, a lot of cream on top and a Hawaiian style umbrella sticking out to the side. They were sickening to say the least but, unbeknownst to you, each of them had at least three shots of tequila.

“What is this? It looks and tastes awful” you then told her after you took a first sip from the large glass before, suddenly, you felt a slight nudge on your back which, ultimately, caused you to tumble forward and slosh your drink all over your friend’s shirt.

"Fuck” you spat as the man behind you who clearly ignored you even after running into you, so you turned around and scowled him.

‘An apology would have been nice’ you said with frustration as Emma was drying off her shirt.

‘An apology?’ he asked with a thick Irish accent before telling you that it was you who stepped back and pushed into him and his friend.

“I did not!” you said before you swallowed nervously. “You ran into me” you then pointed out again as your eyes were drawn to the stranger’s eyes. They were several shades of blue, just like the deep of the ocean. You had a thing for men with big and beautiful eyes and despite your annoyance with this stranger, you had to admit that he was rather attractive.

He was Irish for sure. His accent was strong and his skin was pale, featuring many tiny little freckles. He had slightly greying hair which were not too short and not too long either. They looked a little messy but this style was exactly what suited him.

He was wearing a plain black t-shirt and a pair of jeans that looked a little worn around the knee area. His boots, too, were worn but probably expensive, made from brown leather and, around his right wrist, he wore a basic watch and on the other, he featured a leather band.

"Well, okay. I am sorry, alright? I don’t need an argument right now” the stranger said while you assessed him and it was obvious to both of your friend that you had caught each other’s attention. This handsome stranger was looking at you just as you were looking at him and his friend decided to take the lead.

“Yes, my friend here can be a little clumsy at times” he said to you before shaking your hand and introducing himself.

“I am Dermont by the way and I am less clumsy than my friend here who, as an apology, will buy you a drink” he joked, causing the blue-eyed stranger to furrow his eyebrows.

“I will?” he asked Dermont who gave him a quick a but reassuring nod.

“A drink would be nice. I am Y/N and this Emma” you said before shaking both of men’s hands and then asking for the other man’s name.

“And you? What’s your name?” you wanted to know.

“Cillian” the stranger responded and, after you told him that it was nice to meet him, Dermont prompted you both to follow them to the bar, which was when Cillian pulled his friend aside, asking him in a whisper about what he was doing.

“Helping you out with the ladies, mate. The one wearing the dress has caught your attention and there is no reason for you not to pursue her now that you are single again” Dermont whispered back while Cillian quickly shook his head.

“There is! She is in her mid-twenties at the most which is too fucking young” Cillian pointed out but Dermont was determined to make it happen anyway.

“Yeah, and? You don’t have to marry her. Just have some fun. Let loose. Take her home. I don’t know” Dermont said before making an interesting observation. “Despite, she clearly has no idea who you are so this is a huge bonus” Dermont told him before turning to you again and asking you what you wanted to drink.

“Gin and tonic would be nice” you said shyly before thanking him for the gesture.

“And your friend? What will she have?” he then asked for politeness sake but Emma was still not impressed by what happened.

“Nothing. I think I am leaving. I am all sticky and wet” Emma said angrily to the man who was looking at her somewhat dumbfounded now, which is when you spoke up and smiled.

‘Listen. She has had a bad day so, would you give us a minute please?’ you asked, not wanting the men to leave just yet.

You had your eyes on the clumsy blue-eyed stranger and, albeit the fact that he was clearly at least twice your age, he was cute, handsome and intriguing.

“I got to go home Y/N. I smell of Tequila now. It is gross. I am sorry, but you are coming with me, right? I cannot leave you here by yourself” Emma told you quietly but you shook your head.

“Would you mind if I stayed? These guys look harmless and the clumsy one is kind of cute” you asked before glancing over to the stranger again, causing Emma to furrow her eyebrows.

“He is twice your age” she pointed out.

“And your point is?” you chuckled before you gave her a cheeky smile.

“Okay. He is attractive. I give you that. But you need to be careful, alright? He might be married or weird. Or possibly both” Emma lectured you and you raised a very important question, which clearly outlined your intentions to her.

“He doesn’t wear a wedding ring so I doubt that he is married” you pointed out before looking over towards the blue eyed stranger again and, immediately, your eyes met his. “So let’s say that he isn’t married or weird, would it be wrong if I was to hook up with him just for one night? I never had a one night stand before but he’s really hot and I really need to get over James. This could really help, you know…” you said, causing Emma to laugh.

‘It’s not wrong to have a one night stand silly. You are young and should let your hair down once in a while. James has been holding you back so I would say, go for it…” she told you, giving you the reassurance you needed.

“Now go and get him tiger. And text me if you are not coming home so that I know that you are safe” Emma then said and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at her.

“Yes mum” you joked before giving her a hug and disappearing into the crowd again to follow the stranger.

***

After a minute or so, you approached Cillian again. He was holding a gin and tonic in one hand and a pint of Guinness in the other. His somewhat random friend had disappeared and, without questioning him about it, you took your drink from his hand and walked over towards a quieter area with him.

“I am sorry about your friend” Cillian then said carefully while you smiled at him and leaned back against the wall.

“It’s fine, really” you told him almost shyly as he glanced at you with those sparkling blue eyes. They were large and magical and blended in nicely with his pale freckled skin.

“Where did your friend go?” you then asked while secretly hoping that he too had taken off.

“His wife called. He had to leave and told me to apologise to you for not saying goodbye” Cillian explained and you quickly realised that this was a set up.

“Really? His wife called, huh?” you thus teased, causing Cillian to laugh.

“Yes. That’s what he said. Although, to tell you the truth, I think that he was trying to set us up so, if you prefer, we can just leave it at that and go our separate ways” Cillian then said with great honesty and your jaw dropped.

“I knew it” you then laughed in response while trying hard to look surprised.

“How so?” Cillian asked.

“You aren’t a good actor. I didn’t believe you for a second when you said that his wife called. He told you to say that, didn’t he?” you chuckled causing the handsome stranger to furrow his eyebrows.

“I am not a good actor?” he asked. He was surprised by your statement but now knew for sure that you really had no idea who he was.

“No” you said, earning you a chuckle.

“Well, I suppose I wasn’t trying to put on an act” Cillian pointed out with laughter.

“Okay. Fair enough” you responded. “So, are you married?” you then asked, wanting to make sure.

“Why would my friend be trying to set me up with you if I was married?” Cillian asked surprised, chuckling again.

“I don’t know, but these things happen, so I want to be cautious. It just doesn’t make sense for someone like you to be single, you know…” you stammered before realising that you must have sounded like an idiot right now.

“Someone like me?” Cillian chuckled before answering your question. “I separated from wife six weeks ago, so I am single but, to be clear, I am also not interested in dating right now” he then pointed out with more seriousness and you smiled.

“Good. Because neither am I” you explained and, after a while, you got talking about more entertaining topics like books, music and even art.

Just like you, he was obsessed with literature and theatrics. He loved music and music was what you talked about the most. You learned that he had children and you told him about having migrated to Ireland from the US.

Talking with Cillian was fun. He seemed educated and very smart. He was funny too and, after about three drinks and endless conversations, you ended up asking about his age. You were curious and learned that he was in his mid-forties but, when he asked you about your age, you lied.

“I am 29” you said, making yourself a whooping six years older than you actually were.

“Really? 29?” he asked over yet another drink and you nodded shyly.

“Yes. Why?” you asked and he smiled.

“You look much younger” he admitted and you bit your tongue. You knew that lying was wrong but you also knew that, if you had told him your real age, the night may have ended right then and there. There was no way he would have been interested in you if he knew that you were half his age.

In the end, he believed you and, within the next half an hour or so, you were both up to your fourth drink and this is when Cillian glanced into your eyes and saw some uncertainty laced with a heavy dosing of lust.

But lust, you saw in his eyes as well and it did not take him long to close the last inch of air in between you and felt you jump at the contact.

“Do you want to go somewhere else? Maybe somewhere a little quieter?” he then asked after almost two hours of talking and drinking, which, really, turned out to be exactly what you were waiting for. He had never done this before but also knew that he had nothing to lose. He wanted to take his chances with you and knew that it would, possibly, lead to more.

“Yes. Sure. Where do you want to go?” you then stammered as his eyes just dropped to your mouth again before, slowly, he leaned in, his lips just millimetres from yours now without touching them yet.

“Where do you live?” he then asked carefully, almost whispering the words into your ear and thereby testing the waters, but you knew that you could not have taken him home with you as you were living with your friend in a tiny studio apartment.

“Darndale, but my place is being renovated at the moment” you lied again. “How about you?” you then asked and he smiled.

“Not far from here” he told you with a hint of reluctance as well and, when you suggested for him to show you his place, he nodded carefully.

“Okay. Yes. Let’s get a taxi?” he asked and, once again you smiled and gave him a reluctant nod.

***

After you got into the taxi and Cillian gave the taxi-driver his address, it did not take you both very long before you finally started to make out.

The sexual tension that had built up between you was unreal and, just as you sat there, next to this stranger, like a shy little girl, his hand came to caress your leg as if this was the most normal thing to do.

He had a certainty about him which both intrigued and aroused you and, just as his fingers traced over your skin, he could feel you trembling.

As your tainted breath became shaky, Cillian leaned towards you, this time to taste the remnants of the liquor from your lips, and you let him.

His actions caught you by surprise but you gave into the kiss nonetheless. It felt good, incredible, and passionate.

After kissing your lips for a few minutes in the back of the taxi, Cillian then leaned down further and helped himself to the delicate skin along your neck. He kissed and licked and sucked at the sensitive skin until you were writhing and making impatient little sounds from your throat. He then buried one hand into your hair and attacked your mouth again, capturing those rosy red lips with his ow.

His tongue soon demanded entrance and you were in no position to refuse. Your hands grasped at Cillian’s body as you gave into the onslaught of his tongue, darting in and out, teasing and caressing until both of you were breathless. Cillian’s mouth tasted sweet and yet bitter, the liquor still lingering on his lips. It tasted so good and you wanted more.

You were moaning freely against his mouth, your hands taking on a life of their own to roam across his back which is when Cillian broke the kiss and flirting time was over.

The taxi pulled up in front of his apartment building and you stepped out together and walked through the lobby.

***

The building itself was much fancier than what you were used to and, after less than a minute, you arrived at the elevator and Cillian pushed the button. Your heart was beating fast in your chest now and, just as you waited, you turned towards Cillian and pressed your lips against his again.

Without reluctance, he deepened the kiss and began to gently probe your mouth with his tongue. His hands roamed your body, caressing and kneading and you pulled yourself up against him feeling the length of him against your leg.

It was almost like the beast within you both had been unleashed at the same time and, when the elevator's bell chimed and the doors opened wide, you both stumbled into his penthouse.

His hands were on you in an instant again and the erotic sensation of this man’s touch alone sent a quiver through your body. He was so much older than you and, yet, you kissed and caressed each other like two teenagers in heat.

“I never…you know” you stammered nervously as Cillian’s hands were everywhere as you somehow managed to find your way in to his bedroom within mere seconds.

“You never had a one-night stand?” he asked just as you found yourself being pinned against the wall in the heat of the moment.

“No. Never” you responded, knowing very well that this was all this was going to be. A one-night stand. Nothing more and nothing less. That was what you both wanted and he made sure for you to know that before he took you upstairs.

“Do you want to stop?” he thus asked gently but you shook your head. You did not want him to stop. He made you feel good. Too good.

‘No’ you whispered eventually as you moaned with lust when his lips connected with yours again and you swung your arms around his neck, tugging on his curls.

You kissed and then caressed each other while you began to grind yourself against him, feeling the length of his hard cock through the denim of the jeans.

“Fuck. You are something else. Simply stunning” Cillian then whispered into your ear after nibbling on it gently, eliciting another loud moan from you.

“Are you sure you haven’t done this kind of thing before?” he then teased and you shyly shook your head.

‘No, but I want to. I want you to fuck me. Right now” you whispered, running your hand over his crotch and it was becoming way too difficult for Cillian to control himself now. He wanted you as much as you wanted him.

‘Good. Because I am unable to hold back much longer’ he then said before spinning you around, which is when, finally, you got a good look at where you would be experiencing your first time with anyone but James.

To your surprise, Cillian’s bed looked like something out of a magazine with a white comforter and an abundance of pillows resting against a large wooden headboard that arched backward toward the wall. Lamps on either side of the bed cast a warm yellow light around the room, making the entire space feel soft.

Just as you looked at it, the blue-eyed stranger came up behind you, kissing your neck and whispering into your ear again “let me take this off for you”

The man’s hands then went to the back of your dress where he released the zipper and, just as he did, you pushed the fabric to the floor and stepped out of it before kicking off your shoes. You were now undressed, wearing nothing more than a pair of black lace panties, and then, when you turned around to face this much older man again, his eyes went straight to your naked breasts.

‘Fuck, they are perfect’ he said almost inadvertently as he caressed your firm flesh before, finally, pulling each of your nipples slightly.

‘They aren’t too bad’ you giggled as his hands massaged your firm numbs before they wandered deeper and deeper until he made contact with your lace covered core.

“Lay down for me” he then ordered as your breathing increased with the sudden flash of heat radiating from both of your bodies. You could feel his eyes on your breasts still as you complied with his request and climbed on the bed.

“As you wish” you stammered nervously, hoping that he wouldn’t realise how inexperienced you truly were. You had only had sex with one man before and you most certainly were not in your late twenties, which is what you had told him earlier that night.

As you laid there though, you watched as the handsome stranger began to undress himself as well and, when his shirt finally came off, you could see his pale freckled skin which aroused you. His chest was covered with a patch of hair, some brown and some grey, matching the grey streaks of hair on his head. Then, there was also some hair which traced downwards from his belly button and you could not wait to see more.

‘You are fucking perfect’ the stranger told you as you looked at him with lust and hunger and, just as you thought you couldn’t get any more excited, he pushed down his briefs and revealed his raging erection to you which was glistening with precum already.

It stood up proudly and you realised that, unlike you, he was comfortable with being completely naked like this. He was bigger than James which, too, aroused you but also made you blush and panic a little.

You starred, and starred and still starred at his cock when he finally joined you on bed with a sleek smile on his face.

As soon as he landed on bed with you, his lips connected with yours again but, this time around, there was some more force and urgency to his kisses. He demanded you to part your lips and you complied, allowing him to slide his tongue into your mouth just far enough to touch yours.

He flicked it up and down quickly while pulling himself further into your core which, ultimately, pushed you onto the back of the bed.

Despite the heat and passion, the stranger remained rather calm and you loved that and hated it at the same time. You could not help but want to speed him up as you could already feel your heart pounding rapidly and vibrating through your chest. But he clearly had experience and knew not to rush it even despite the fact that you were both slightly drunk.

“Your lips are perfect. So soft and sweet. I could kiss you all night” the man then marvelled and you smiled as no one had ever kissed you like this, not even your boyfriend.

“You should. You are incredibly good at this” you stammered and then you shivered again as you felt his fingertips squeeze your hips.

“At what?” he asked just after you sucked his bottom lip between yours and grazed your teeth as deep as they would naturally go. You felt his jaw clench. In fact, you felt every muscle in his body tensing and then tensing more.

“At kissing me. In fact, I don’t think anyone else has ever kissed me like this before” you said shyly as your ankles were now locked behind the stranger’s knees and you didn’t remember consciously placing them there but, then again, you didn’t remember consciously doing anything since the moment you kissed him.

“That’s good. Then, perhaps I should kiss more than just your lips, shouldn’t I?” he then teased and, immediately, your hand pulled him by the nape of his neck further, right back against your mouth.

“You should kiss every part of my body” you confirmed and the stranger groaned against your lips with pleasure before moving his hands from your hips down your thigh tusking as much pressure as he could manage before he spread his fingers out as he journeyed just as ferociously back up.

“Every part you say?” he then teased as you tilted your head back, closing your eyes and using your sense of touch to the full while inhaling his scent.

“Yes, every part” you moaned and he looked up, seeing your soft closed eyes and plump lips in ecstasy and his view trailed down your neck and between your breasts.

“Very well then” he said as his hands slid around your back and he gripped the small of your back with his powerful fingertips.

The stranger soon felt you shiver and let his tongue slid up from the centre of your collar bone to the centre of your throat where he felt you suddenly gulp.

He sure was good at this, good at teasing you and he knew it too as he had a slight chuckle at your reaction to his touch and kisses.

You moaned loudly as he kissed you everywhere, which was something that sent shivers down his spine and yours. At same time, in between his assault on your tender skin, you smiled against his, trailing kisses over his throat and to his ear.

Lips and hands were everywhere now and his hands pressed firmly against your skin as he explored your body. He started at your thighs and pressed into your tight belly. He completely encased your rib cage with his large hands before lightening his touch as he began to caress your breasts.

‘Please don’t stop’ you moaned as, finally, the stranger hoovered over you and you were laying under him.

He then made it priority to grab your face with both hands and hold you in the longest, hottest kiss he knew you would ever have. He kissed down your neck and you used your strength in your arms and legs to press yourself up into his mouth until, finally, he let his tongue flick over one of your nipples.

‘God yes’ you moaned. It was too much for you to try and keep your hands from his body and you fought to keep your hands from trembling at the least as you streamed your fingers through his hair and made a request by tugging him further into your breast. He complied willingly, for a moment but was soon lost over your long flat stomach that he could feel quiver under his tongue. It was unlike anything else you had ever felt before and he hasn’t even gotten to your sex yet.

"What are you going to do to me?” you moaned and this stranger well and truly adored how nervous you were and how much you wanted him at the same time. You were a quivering mess and his lips and fingers did not relent.

‘Well, hopefully, I am going to make you cum” he mused, making you realise that, indeed, he knew very well what he was doing to you and your body, playing it like an instrument and tuning it to his will.

‘With, uhm…what…?” you huffed out as you could barely focus your eyes as you looked down at him just as his hands melted into your panties and lifted you up by the ass in order to take them off.

“I want to taste you and make you cum with my mouth” he clarified as his face was so close to your aching core and you gave up trying to watch him when your vision blurred from the throbbing heat wave through your body.

When this handsome stranger finally pulled down your lace panties, you heard a high pitched squeal that, a moment later, you realised came from your clenched teeth.

‘Fuck, you are perfect everywhere, aren’t you?’ he then said with a low and dark voice while glancing at your aching pussy before, with the width of his shoulders, he pushed your knees apart, opening you wide for him as he kissed you just above your core, causing you to moan.

‘You are so wet already. I can see it’ he then said and you shuddered at his hot breath against your pussy and soon felt his fingers join in, running gently over your soaking mound.

“Oh god. Please” you then, finally, shouted, a gasp and yell all wrapped up together, as his wet tongue lapped at you, long steady strokes over your entire wetness while he held your lips open with two of his fingers.

‘That feels so good’ you moaned as his tongue circled around your clit, flicking at it, then returned lower to slide inside you as far as he could go, then back up again to your clit.

Your hips involuntarily started pushing up against him and it wasn’t long until the feeling of him pleasing you like this became too much for you to bear. Trying to hold back, you shifted and squirmed beneath him and an involuntary scream escaped you.

‘It’s too much” you moaned as he used his hands to spread you open even wider while circling your clit. No one had ever pleasured you like this before and you bucked, writhing against him as his tongue ran over it.

“I can’t, you need to stop, oh my god please” you fought with yourself, denying yourself what you craved the most. You could cum right then and there, explode against Cillian’s lips with desire, but it felt too heavenly and too intense. You did not know if you could withstand it, feeling overstimulated already.

“You can” the stranger whispered while pressing two of his fingers inside of you, pushing them right up against your g-spot as he watched you arch your back and cling on to the sheets.

“Please. I can’t…” you screamed out, moaning, your legs quivering.

“Yes, you can” he repeated with a sly smile before continuing his onslaught on your sex.

‘Fuck, oh god” you screamed again, still trying to fight your own release which felt too intense and too surreal.

“Give in to it and let me give you what you need" the stranger then told you and, with that, you knew that he wouldn’t stop until you came. So, you decided to let go for him even if that meant that you may make a fool of yourself.

As his mouth returned to your mound and his tongue kept on at you, you felt yourself climbing and climbing and climbing towards the unfamiliar feeling. And, when he finally sucked your clit into his mouth again, you were sent over the edge.

‘Fuck! Oh god! Cillian’ you moaned as your orgasm washed over you and your legs began to quiver. Your body shook uncontrollably and your hands came flying down, getting caught in the stranger’s hair, pressing him against your sex before pulling him away again.

“Enough! Please” you choked as he wouldn’t relent and continued to suck and lick until you slowly calmed down.

‘See, I told you, you could do it’ the man then chuckled and you could not help but laugh and cry all at the same time.

‘Fuck’ you gasped. ‘I didn’t expect to cum like this” you stammered nervously, causing the stranger to smile and look at you with both, admiration and confusion.

‘Then what did you expect?’ he teased before he moved up and kissed your lips hard, making you taste yourself on his lips.

‘Not sure, actually. I just never had an orgasm from oral sex before’ you stammered nervously after he pulled away from you and used his palms to spread your lips.

‘Really?’ he asked, adoring your shyness and you nodded before moving your hand to his cock.

“Really” you said while stroking his cock, eliciting soft moans from him. “But I still need you inside of me. I want to feel you” you then told him while he positioned himself between your legs.

“Do you have condoms?” Cillian then asked, seeing that he was entirely unprepared for this.

‘No, but I am on the pill” you said nervously, knowing that things were about to become real. He was going to slide into you and you were nervous about it for some reason.

‘Good’ he responded. ‘I can’t wait to feel you’ Cillian then said as he ran his hands up the inside of your thighs, sliding them toward your pussy before using his fingers to spread your labia slowly and gently, dipping his index finger inside to cover it in your slippery juices again.

‘Please. Stop teasing” you moaned as Cillian moved the tip of his finger upward to find your clit, which had grown under the excitement and was now protruding from the protection of its hood. The sweet smell of sex filled his nostrils as he made small, slow circles with his finger.

‘So impatient aren’t we’ Cillian teased while angling his length downward to touch its head against the lips of your pussy. It was like a drug to watch himself rubbing against you, coating the head of his penis in a sheen of your slippery wetness.

‘Yes, please. I want your cock inside of me’ you begged again as you thrust with your hips forward, wanting him to penetrate you and, after a little more teasing, so he did.

“Like this?” Cillian teased as, slowly, but surely, he entered you and you moaned at the sensation.

“Oh god yes, fuck” you cried as he stretched you and began thrusting in and out of you almost right away after you pushed yourself against him.

‘God you are so tight’ Cillian groaned as he watched himself slide into and back out of your pussy. His cock was shiny, coated with your natural lubrication as he began to fuck you and, soon, his thrusts became harder and faster.

‘I feel so full…This feels so good…’ you moaned as ecstasy came in quick hot waves as the stranger pumped into you and you began to moan louder than before. You experienced an uncontrollable urge to howl that you could barely hold back and the stranger then suddenly gripped you as tightly as he could manage.

You both used every muscle in your bodies to create one living, writhing creature rather than two. Eventually, you cried out too loudly though and the man took you with the deepest most passionate kiss he ever possessed as you spiralled into a lazy heap.

‘You are taking my cock so well…’ the stranger groaned after a while and then he lifted upward, prompting you to raise your knees off the bed.

‘Fuck’ he continued on as he pressed into you again and you lifted your legs completely in to the air. He grabbed your ankles and held them in the air above his shoulders, continuing to thrust with the same speed and energy as before. Bringing your feet closer together increased the tightness for both of them. Spreading your legs apart gave him the entire view of his cock sliding in and out of your pussy and provided more stimulation for your clit which is when, without warning, you came hard.

‘Oh my fucking god’ you screamed and, as the muscles in your pussy tightened around his cock, the handsome stranger slowed his thrusts leaving himself almost all the way inside you. You let out a long, loud moan again and then bent your knees and pressed them tightly together, with your whole-body quivering.

He kept his swollen cock deep inside your as he felt the muscles inside your pussy squeeze him tight. He could feel several distinct strong squeezes amidst the overall tightness. Then you gradually softened before going completely loose. He rubbed your upper arms finding that they had exploded in goosebumps. He pressed his body forward as you relaxed your knees, sliding to lay himself on top of you. He kissed you first on the mouth and then on the sides of your neck, just under your ears.

‘You look so sexy when you cum’ he then said as, over the next few minutes, he mapped out a field of kisses across your neck and collar bone. He placed his kisses like stepping-stones in a slow, connected, but wandering path. Passionate. Loving. His erection was holding strong inside your warm pussy, but he hadn't moved his hips at all and you began to kiss him back, first slowly, then more rapidly. He felt your knees lift off the bed as you slid your hands down his back, grabbing his butt. Even though he was still completely inserted, you pulled him tight against you. You were ready for more.

“Can you cum again for me?” he then asked but you weren’t sure. You never came more than once, so you doubted your ability to cum a third time.

‘I don’t know’ you admitted, but the stranger smiled.

‘Well, we will see, won’t we?’ he teased before pulling out of you after all

"I want to fuck you from behind. Common” he then said as he sat up on his knees and you rolled over and positioned yourself on all fours.

His cock had softened slightly while you had stopped fucking, but it was now back to being fully erect. He watched the tip bounce slightly as it pulsed in time with his heartbeat. It looked and felt thicker than usual.

‘Fuck, look at this pussy of yours. You are soaking’ he groaned as he put his cock in his hand and positioned himself behind you. He angled himself downward to meet your inviting pussy and then he pushed in, with one single thrust.

He felt as though he was able to penetrate you more deeply in this position and, with each consequent thrust forward, you shrieked as the tip of his cock hit your cervix.

Your bones seemed to ache from the feeling of his stomach muscles clenching hard against your back as he rutted into you. You pushed your ass back against him, and you found your rhythm, bodies slapping, panting and grunting in the dim light of his bedroom.

The pleasure was overwhelming and, every time you were about to cum, he teased you and slowed his movements.

You had both hit a plateau where everything seemed sensational but you could not last much longer.

"Fuck me hard. I want to cum again” you gasped and so he did. You requesting him to fuck your harder had provided that extra bit of stimulation that was ultimately too much. In an instant, he shifted from feeling like he could last forever and was now into impending orgasm countdown. He wanted to hold off long enough for you to cum together, and he was suddenly very close. But so were you. Again.

“Fuck, you feel so good” he groaned as he spread his knees a bit wider so he would be lower, and his angle of penetration would rub closer to your clit.

“I am so close again” you then moaned as he also shortened his thrusts so the head of his cock would come completely out of your pussy and then only go about half-way back in. He let go of your hips and bent over to cup your breasts while kissing your back.

‘Then let go for me’ he groaned as he, too, was about to explode and raised his torso back up and pulled himself completely out of your pussy.

The air of the room felt cold against his cock compared to the heat from inside you. He used his hand to rub the swollen head of his cock up and down against your pussy lips teasing you, but you pushed backwards and engulfed him again.

"Fuck me hard," you repeated, almost yelling.

"What's that? You want me to fuck you hard?" he asked, pulling out again.

"Yes," You answered with a moaning voice. "Please."

"With this?" he asked, tapping the head of his cock against your pussy.

"Yes. Fuck me with your cock. Hard and fast” you gasped and, with that, he roughly pushed back into your wetness, spearing you on as your mind bubbling orgasm overwhelmed you.

You suddenly screamed, shivered and convulsed in orgasmic bliss and it was when you fully gave into him, that Cillian reached his high as well, filling you with his warm seed.

‘Fuck, that’s it’ he groaned as he thrusted back in. His shaft began to throb and he felt himself spurt once as he thrust in, then again as he pulled back. He continued to feel pulses of his orgasm come faster than he could fuck you now but you were past it. You were at your peak and the sensations of your pussy changed again, prolonging your orgasm, as he pushed through his own load inside of you. It was a fantastically satisfying feeling. As the pulsing continued, he wondered how much cum he was leaving inside you. It felt like a lot.

‘Jesus. God. Stop please’ you moaned as it became too much and he slowed down. His cum had leaked down his shaft and was covering the entirety of his cock, your pussy and its lips, pushing out on the sides of your tight hole as he finally withdrew from you.

After he pulled out, some streaks of your combined juices poured out of your slit and onto the sheets which, for some reason, felt incredibly satisfying.

‘Now this was not how I had expected tonight to turn out’ Cillian then said as he looked down on you with even more lust after you collapsed onto the bed, still panting and with your legs spread. Seeing his achievement aroused him all over again and he took his fingers to spread the lips of your pussy apart to get a better look.

‘Me neither’ you confirmed just as Cillian pushed two fingers into you and, you couldn’t help but shriek for which he appeared delighted.

When he pulled them out, they were covered in cum and you looked at him and yourself before reaching for his hand and guiding it to your mouth.

‘Jesus, really?’ he asked surprised as you stuck out your tongue and licked his fingers clean.

‘Really. I wanted to see what you taste like’ you winked and, just as you had sucked your combined juices from his fingers, he kissed you again passionately, tasting you and himself on your lips.

‘You are in for a long night’ he then warned you and you could see that he was already hardening again which certainly surprised you for a man in his mid-forties. He was clearly eager to make the most of this one-night stand and so were you.

With that, you both rolled out of bed and made your way into the shower for round two and then returned to the bed for round three.

Round four and five then took place in the morning and, after hours of passionate sex, a lack of sleep and Cillian cooking you some breakfast, it was time for you to leave.

‘Will I see you again?’ you asked as you were about to head out of the door. You hoped that he would be giving you his number after the amazing night you had shared but, unfortunately for you, he was true to his word.

This was nothing more than a one-night stand for him. He was not interested in dating again, nor was he ready to date anyone just yet. He told you this and that, in his opinion, you were far too young for him, though he did not even know your real age yet.

You accepted his position and kissed him once more before leaving his apartment, somewhat saddened by the fact that he did not want another date with you.

All you knew about him was his first name and the fact that he was incredible in bed. You knew that you would never see him again and, with this in mind, you soon returned to your old habits.

Over the next week, while pondering on about the handsome stranger you’ve met and shared a night with, you got back together with James. Much to the dislike of your friends, you were stuck in a cycle again and could not break it. James, once again, had a hold on you and after yet another argument with him, you made your way to Drama School on Monday with some bad temper and anger.

You enrolled into a new class and rocked up late and somewhat unprepared while your two friends were already waiting for you, in the hall next to the lecture room which is where you had to sign in.

‘Guess what?’ one of them said but you were too tired and depressed to take guesses. You were up all night again, in tears, as James was keeping taps on you and this was something you did not like.

‘I am not in the mood’ you thus said while looking through your schedule.

‘We have a new teacher for our practical work and he is fucking hot’ Lorraine said, while your other friend rolled her eyes.

‘He’s not that hot’ she said, sighing while looking at you. Clearly, you were not listening.

‘God, did you even watch Peaky Blinders?’ Lorraine then asked you both without getting an answer for you.

‘No, should I have watched it?’ your other friend then asked.

‘Yes. It is a brilliant show. He is brilliant. Hot and single’ Lorraine said like an eager little schoolgirl.

‘And old’ your other friend pointed out.

‘Y/N hooked up with a mid-forty-year-old guy a week ago and she said she had the best sex ever, so don’t knock it before you have tried it, isn’t that right Y/N?’ Lorraine teased but you did not respond. You had other things on your mind until, suddenly, you saw a familiar face in the distance, talking to the principal of the drama school.

‘Y/N?’ your friend then said, nudging your shoulder but all this did was make you drop your books. Your mouth stood open, gaping, as your eyes followed the principal and her companion.

‘Y/N! What’s wrong with you? Did you see a ghost?’ Lorraine laughed and you sure did.

‘Something like that’ you said while pointing to the principal and the handsome stranger by her side.

‘That’s Cillian Murphy. He is our new prac teacher’ Lorraine giggled and then you dropped your coffee too.

‘Fuck’ you said.

To be continued…

Please comment and engage. I love getting comments and predictions pretty please!

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