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citrustan · 5 months

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slipping through my fingers [4] (myg)

title: and the hits keep coming 2.0

pairing: min yoongi x reader genre: dilf!yoongi, exes and co-parents au, angst!, fluff, smut summary: just when you thought yoongi couldn't surprise you anymore, it happens again. warnings: [other parts should be read before this one] a lot more feelings of insecurity and sad vibes, yoongi stepping over oc's boundaries, oc being disrespected yet again (nothing new nothing changed same old shit same old fucking shit)

You were tempted to ignore him, but with Nao involved, you couldn’t avoid dealing with him.

“You should go eat. I can just talk to him for you…?” Taehyung suggests as he watches you contemplate your next move.

That would be great help to you. While you couldn’t afford to avoid him forever, maybe a few days wouldn’t hurt. So, with an overwhelming and shaky sigh, you passed the phone to him.

He hurriedly motions for you to leave the room. And you reluctantly do so.

Taehyung scrunches his nose and shuts the door in your face.

Fighting the urge to hold a glass against the door, you forced yourself to wait in the kitchen till he was done.

On the other side of the door, Taehyung angrily exhales, taking his own sweet time to answer your phone. Then the call drops.

Not even a second later, the loud ringtone fills the room once again. It reeks of desperation.

“Hello?”

No response.

He tries again, “Hello?”

“…Taehyung?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

After another pause, the voice scoffs, “Figures.”

A bit taken aback, Taehyung bit his tongue, “What do you want?”

Taehyung hears nothing back. “Yoongi? Why’d you call?”

“I called _____, not you.”

“Well, she can’t talk now.”

Now it was Yoongi’s turn to bite back. “This has nothing to do with you, Tae. I just need to talk to her.”

“You can’t. You have me instead. What more do you have to say?”

There’s yet another long pause.

“How is she?”

Taehyung almost laughs in disbelief, “You can’t be serious. How do you think, Yoongi? Is the future Mrs. Min okay with you asking about your ex?”

“Careful, Taehyung-”

“Does everyone else know already?”

“Of course not, I went straight to _____’s. And nobody can know about it either. We’re not ready. I just…”

Taehyung grew more confused the longer Yoongi took to speak.

“I need to talk to her, Taehyung. I really… I messed up.”

“Did something more happen?”

Another pause.

“No. I just had to check in… Can I come by tomorrow? I still need to drop Mimi off.”

“Uh… right, about that. Listen…” Taehyung thinks for a second, “I think, maybe it’d be better if you just let her breathe for a moment. And I’ll come get Naomi.”

Another pause.

“Did she ask for that?”

Taehyung had half a mind to lie about it but he refrained, deciding that the truth would hurt him more. “You know she’d never. She’s too… stupid-” Stupidly in love with you. “-and you need to stop taking advantage of her; you need to hold back, Yoongi. You can’t go running to her for everything anymore.”

Yoongi knew he was in the wrong, but was annoyed that Taehyung was the one to tell him that.

Still a little in denial, he childishly spits, “Fine, bye. Get here before 7.”

Taehyung wanted to retaliate but he was immediately met with a little digital sound indicating that Yoongi had hung up on him.

A little bemused, Taehyung pulls your purple Samsung away from his ear and stares at it--- “So fucking typical.”

As Taehyung steps out of your room, he almost bulldozes you down.

“Jesus, _____.” Frowning, he asks, “Were you eavesdropping?”

You shook your head and wordlessly waved a jar of tiramisu in front of his nose.

Taehyung eyes you suspiciously, “I’m going to pick Naomi up tomorrow.”

When he says that, your face visibly drops. You didn’t actually expect Yoongi to pull away so fast. Was his girlfriend already keeping him from you now? You almost wanted to smack yourself in the head for thinking like you owned him.

Taehyung debates on whether he should elaborate or wait to see if you ask about it.

But you just gently and nonchalantly nod, “Right, of course. That’s okay. Please bring her here by 7.”

“He didn’t ask for this!” Taehyung blurts.

Your expression doesn’t change.

A little intimidated, he looked straight at his feet and explained, “I offered to pick her up. But Yoongi called because he wanted to talk to you. I just told him that I thought it was a bad idea.”

When he doesn’t hear you react, he slowly looks up at you, suddenly feeling miniscule. And he swore he could see steam coming out of your ears.

Taking a deep breath, you stare into his eyes, “You need to stop overstepping. You’ve done it once already. You need to stop.”

He almost felt the heat radiating from you.

Almost as if he didn’t actually expect you to react so negatively, he asks, “_____... You’re really mad about this?”

You slam your jar on the coffee table and storm off into the kitchen.

“The first time you meddled, Yoongi left me. The second time, he happened to meet his future wife. What’s it going to be now?”

Taehyung was stunned, “Are you kidding me? Are you just mad that I’m looking out for you in ways you yourself wouldn’t or do you really believe that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you planned it all,” you glare at him accusingly.

Too stunned to digest what you accused him of, his eyes just widened in bewilderment. “_____. I- Planned what, _____?”

You tip your head forward in mockery, “Planned what? Take a guess.”

The room fills with silence once more.

Taehyung shook his head, “I’m going to ignore all of that. And fine, I’ll ask him to call you back then.”

“No!” – “No?” He parrots.

“I don’t want him to call me.” You almost whine. You don’t even know what you truly want. (Actually, you do.)

“Okay.” Taehyung nodded reassuringly, his hands grasping at your elbows, “He won’t. I’ll bring Naomi back tomorrow. Okay?” But you shook your head obstinately, “No, I want her back now.”

“Right now?” - “Now.”

“_____...” He looked at the grandfather clock on your wall.

Cringing a little, Taehyung attempts to reason with you, “_____, it’s Yoongi’s turn to have her.”

“Yeah, that’s a spoken agreement, not a written and notarized thing. He can’t stop me from wanting to spend time with my daughter.” You’re sure this is evil _____ speaking and it’s as if you can’t control her.

Taehyung nervously cracks his knuckles. He doesn’t have a counter argument. You are Naomi’s mother and arguably the primary caretaker after all. He figures he owes you this.

“So, will you get her back for me?” You weren’t really giving him an option.

Taehyung knew your word was final. Either way, he wouldn’t police you on being a mother. “Let me give Yoongi a call, okay?”

“You do that. I’ll make you something to eat before you go!” You smile sweetly.

Not quite sure of your strategy here, all you knew was that you wanted your daughter with you. It was your way of gaining some control back in your life. You don’t have it in you to think of whether or not this was ethical or right. You just did not want to spiral.

From the kitchen, you could faintly hear Taehyung on the phone.

You take note of his assertiveness and slap some extra mortadella on his sandwich. He deserved it for putting up with you. You couldn’t think of anyone else who’d still be with you and handle your mood swings.

Was that normal or just sad? You do not want to think.

In your mind, you were satisfied in life. Sometimes you regret bringing up marriage with Yoongi. Maybe if you hadn’t forced the idea on him, you could’ve been in Hyejin’s place now.

The fact that you’re even in this position is ridiculous. Sooner or later you’d have to face… everything. The reason they’re getting married and you aren’t. The fact that they might have Nao be a part of their wedding and you’d just have to smile and nod, that Nao may have another parental figure, that you won’t be Yoongi’s bride or a bride at all, ever, and that maybe you’ve lost Yoongi’s companionship forever.

You had to step out for a bit.

Right at that moment, Taehyung emerges from the living room into the kitchen.

Sighing, he starts, “So, he agreed. He wants to know if everything’s okay. Of course, I know it isn’t but I told him he had nothing to worry about. And he didn’t buy it.” –

You push the little ceramic plate towards him, “Eat your sandwich.”

Taking a large bite out of it, Taehyung thanks you and adds, “--- by the way, your food is on the dining table, I didn’t actually give it away, you know?”

“I saw it,” you confirmed, “Jus’ not hungry.”

Quickly changing the topic back to Nao, you ask, “So, can Nao be back now or…?”

“Yeah. Here’s the thing…” He stalled. “Nao’s coming now.”

A gulp. You think he’s swallowing his food.

“Yoongi’s coming with.”

‘Why do you always bring me bad news?’ is what you wanted to ask. Instead, you squeak out a “When?”

“Twenty minutes? Told me Nao was already dolled up or something.” He finishes his sandwich and washes the plate.

In a soothing tone, Taehyung proposes, “Why don’t you head down to the pâtisserie? I’ll receive them. You don’t have to worry about seeing him, okay?”

You appreciated his offer but chose to decline it, “No. It’s okay. I need to tidy up anyway,” – “_____, I’ll do it for you. I know how you like it. Go take a walk or grab a sweet treat or something, yes?”

“No, it’ll take too long for you to do it by yourself. You can help me though. Just do my bed, please?” You’re already walking off.

Taehyung follows you into your room but doesn’t have a chance to stop you, you’re already stripping down and into your ‘serious cleaning’ clothes. It’s just an old dress and rubber gloves.

Sometimes, Taehyung mourns what you and Yoongi could have been. You’re perfect for each other. The two of you just needed to work on your communication a little. He’s thinking about how much of you Yoongi’s missing out on and can’t help but scoff. In pop culture terms, he really fumbled you.

Suddenly you gasp, “Did you watch me change?” Aimed at the man.

“No!” Vehemently shaking his head, he repeats, “Not intentionally! I was zoned out!”

“Wow, calm down, I don’t mind, you know that.” You smile sweetly once again.

Grabbing a pillow, he sighs. Sometimes, he thinks you toy with him on purpose. He really can’t tell.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Forty minutes go by yet there has been no sign of Nao or Yoongi. No calls or messages, no updates whatsoever.

You ought to get Nao a little phone for herself. How had you not thought of this before? It’ll probably be a lot more useful now.

You were nervously readjusting the doilies in a circle over and over again when the doorbell suddenly rang.

Taehyung’s resting figure suddenly snapped upright, “I’ll get it.”

However, you were closer to the door and got to it before he could take two steps.

When you open the door, you wished Taehyung would’ve beaten you to it. You wish you had taken that walk or chosen to buy yourself a sweet drink; because you couldn’t even have guessed what was waiting for you on the other side of the door.

Nothing could have prepared you to see your ex-boyfriend with his current girlfriend and your daughter. Together. All of them. Holding hands. In front of you for the very first time. All of them.

While Yoongi had the decency of looking literally anywhere but in your eyes, you couldn’t say the same about his girlfriend. Fiancée.

Hyejin, placed between your daughter and your ex, exhaled a dreamy smile. “I hope you don’t mind me intruding, _____! Nao-chan wanted to show you our matching hairstyle!”

Bewildered and wordless, all you could do was smile and nod. You mechanically turn your head to look at Nao, who sported a baby pink lock of hair amongst her regular, natural hair identical to Hyejin’s.

You nodded and stepped aside, briefly bumping into Taehyung who looked just as uncomfortable as Yoongi, making space for the lovely family to step into your home. Your eyes were glued to your feet.

Just like always, before you take a drastic step, your daughter grounds you as she runs to you and clings to your lower half. Although, the pink strands of hair brushing against you almost make you lose it all. Almost.

Following which Taehyung breaks the tension by awkwardly, yet warmly greeting the pair, taking a load off of you.

You needed to lie down.

₊˚.🎧 ✩｡ how to disappear completely by radiohead ₊˚.🎧 ✩｡

note: sorry! it probably gets better! i think this one has a few edits pending but i couldn't waitttt

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lacroixwh0r3 · 1 year

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In a Good Way

Farmer!Abby Anderson x Housewife!Reader

Summary: You help Abby relax after a long day on the farm.

Warnings: SMUT!! a little bit of fluff, oral (a recieving), fingering (a recieving), hair pulling, kissing, mommy kink, orgasm denial, petnames, switch!Abby, switch!reader, squirting, spit, overstimulation, and a lil degradtion

Song inspo: Kingston by Faye Webster

A/N: I tried to keep it sweet and cute and then I just completely went off the rails with this...oops!

Also I hit 700 followers on here...wtf thank y'all so much! it is so amazing to be able to share my stuff on here.

And ofc, like, share, reblog, and comment.

Abby had finally finished up the last thing she needed to do around the farm before she headed back home. When she looked at the time on her phone, she realized that she was going to get home early.

As soon as she pulled up to the driveway of her home that she shared with you, her excitement grew. Abby knew that you were most likely cooking some delicious meals for dinner as well as dessert to have afterwards. She hated having to leave you all alone in the house while she was away working. Every morning at 7 a.m., she got dressed for the day, and you would lay in bed looking and beg her to stay even though you knew she couldn't. She would tell you how much she wishes she could, then place a soft kiss on your lips and make her way out the door.

Oh, but the look on your face when she got home made it all worth it to Abby.

When she left, you found things to do around the house to occupy your time. Some days you would clean around the house, make a quick trip to the local farmers market to pick up some things, read, paint your nails, or count down the hours until your wife got home.

You have to admit that it was sometimes lonely when Abby wasn't around, but you didn't really mind it. She tried to encourage you to go out and make some friends, but you refused. You were never good at making friends, and you were okay with being alone. Being alone allowed you to have time to do whatever you wanted without being judged by other people.

Abby calls out your name but gets no response. However, she did hear the sound of soft music playing from the kitchen and you singing along beautifully. The smell of whatever you were cooking made Abby extra hungry as she tiptoed her way to you.

"I didn't know that I was capable of being happy right now, But you showed me how"

She stopped at the door and noticed that your back was turned to her as you swayed your body and stirred the pot.

Behind you, you could hear the familiar sounds of Abby's heavy boots coming up behind you slowly. You try to hold back a giggle because you know she is trying to scare you. You could feel her body close behind you as you kept on moving your hips softly to the beat.

"Hey, baby," You say with your back still facing her.

"How the fuck do you do that? I can never get you," Abby playfully scoffs as she brings her hands onto your hips and presses her body onto yours. Both of you were now swaying together to the beat of the song.

"Because I know you and all your tricks, abbs," You chuckle. "You can never scare me." Abby lets out a soft hum as she kisses the back of your neck and up to the back of your ear. You leaned your head to the side, allowing her better access as your body relaxed into hers and your eyes closed.

"You make me wanna cry in a good way"

"I missed you so fucking much, baby." She whispers into your ear. You shivered as Abby's hands began to move toward your stomach, pulling you further into her hard body.

"I miss you too, sweetheart," you breathe out dreamily. You had missed Abby so much today that all you wanted to do was stay in her arms forever. "I was thinking about you all day." Abby places a kiss on your ear.

"Mm, yeah? My beautiful little wife was thinking about me today." You didn't even realize that you still had the wooden spoon in your hand until you dropped it into the pan of mashed potatoes. You spin around and wrap your arms around Abby's neck, as one of her hands is now sitting low on your back and the other is placed in the middle of your back.

All you could do was stare into her eyes before you began to speak. "You don't understand how much I think about you every day, darling," you confess to Abby as you place a gentle kiss on the tip of her nose. "It's been a year since we got married, and I still can't believe you're mine, Abby." You tell her breathlessly. Her freckle-covered cheeks turned a deep red as she blushed.

"Baby, I should be saying these things to you," She tells you as she brings her face close to you without any hurry. "Beautiful." She whispers before her lips fall on yours.

The kiss was soft. Neither of you rushed it, as you both took your time and savored each other. You were addicted to the taste of Abby's soft, pouty lips and the taste of her mint chapstick that she always put on.

"You weigh just as much as me, don't you I can feel it when we touch"

Your hands grip the back of her neck as the other tugs at her messy blonde braid. Abby moaned into your mouth as you kept tugging and as she leaned in, making you bend back a bit. You feel her hand, which was placed on your lower back, now go down to your ass. Abby kneads at it as she continues to kiss you.

A minute later, you both pull away from each other simultaneously, breathing heavily.

As you both stare and caress each other, you give her braid one last tug as you stand on your tippy toes and go to kiss the bottom of her chin. Her fingers were still kneading into your cheek. "Why don't you go take a shower? Dinner should be ready as soon as you get out; is that fine with you, baby?" You ask her as you rub the back of her neck.

Abby gently nods her head as she replies, "Okay, baby. Thank you so much." She leaves one last kiss on your head as she gives your ass a quick slap and makes her way out of the kitchen.

All you could do was bite your lips and shake your head while observing her ass and thighs in her tight cargo pants.

...

After Abby's shower, she somehow convinced you to ditch dinner and sit with her for a little.

"Baby, I'm not even that hungry, honestly. I just wanna hold you." She says as she sits on the couch, pulling your waist so you can sit on her lap. Rather than sitting sideways on her lap, you adjusted yourself so that you were straddling her.

You knew she was hungry, she was just coming up with an excuse for you to join her.

"Abby, I know you're lying, babes." You tell her, looking deeply into her blue eyes as you push away some of the loose hair that came out of her braid. Her hands came up to your waist and held onto it.

Ugh, whatever, but I still wanna be here with you right now. I feel like we barely got to see each other this week," Abby confessed. You nodded your head and let out a hum, letting her know that you agreed.

Instantly, a thought popped into your head. "You know what, Abs?" You looked at her with bright eyes, seeing that she was already looking down at you with a curious look on her face. "You've been working really hard at the farm all week, and I think you deserve a break, don't you think?"

Abby briefly thinks about it: "Uh, I mean, I guess, sweetheart, but it's going to be really hard to find someone to take care of everything..." As much as Abby would love to spend the day with you, she knew that in order to get the job done the way she wanted it done, she was going to have to be the one to do it.

"Abby, please take the day off..." Your hand drops into your lap and slides up her shirt so you can feel her. "For me, baby," you murmur in a low voice. You observe her eyes as the soft look that was once there has quickly been replaced with a desirous stare.

"You slutty girl, you just want me to take off so I can have my way with you and make you cum all day, hmm?" Abby looked into one of your eyes, down at your lips, and back up to the other eye. All you could do was nod your head, unable to articulate the words.

Her words were vulgar, but she made them sound like the sweetest thing on earth with her soft voice.

The girl lets out a hum before she can say anything else. "Fine, I'll see what I can do." She places a quick peck on your lips and begins sensually gliding her fingers up and down your waist, inching close to your ass. You arch your back into her strong one, making your whole body tremble with nervousness and excitement. Your head started to feel fuzzy.

Even after years of knowing Abby and being very intimate with her, you still get nervous around her at times. It was easy for Abby to detect your nervousness without you saying anything. "Aww, am I making you nervous, my love?"

"You always make me nervous, Abs."

"Yeah?"

You nodded your head, leaned forward, and wrapped your arms around her neck. First you stroked the back of her head, then you pulled her braid down, making her head lean back into the couch.

You couldn't help yourself whenever she had her braid in. Something about the hairstyle invited you to pull against it, which Abby didn't hate. As a matter of fact, Abby loved it when you pulled her hair as she ate you out.

You bent your neck down and began to lick on the sensitive spot on her neck, making her grip your waist tighter and your hips thrust up to your clothed core.

"Oh, this feels so good, my girl." She whimpers softly. "You're making mommy feel so good."

Her words made you suck and lick her neck more. You wrapped her hair around your fist to help hold her in place. Abby trembled with pleasure as her throat released a sexy moan. With each suck on her neck, Abby could feel the sensation shoot down her body, making her clit throb.

"I wish I was fucking your pussy right now," she confessed. "I'd pound that pussy so good while you suck all down my neck." You could feel her throat vibrate with each word.

You continued your assault on her neck for a little while longer until you unwrapped her hair from your fist, stopped sucking, and leaned off of her body. She released your waist, stretching her arms on the top of the couch as she looked at you and bit her luscious lips. "Oh fuck me, baby. You look so delicious right now." You groan before grabbing her chin to look at her neck. The redish, purple hickey on her neck caught your eye. "This will let everyone know you're mine. You're my wife only, right?" You asked her possessively.

She nodded her head as soon as you asked her, "Forever, I'm forever yours, baby. Only yours."

"Good." You say as you place a quick kiss on her lips.

You never doubted Abby's loyalty at all; she never gave you any reason to question her—you just liked hearing her tell you.

"You want me to go up the stairs and get the strap, baby?" She asked. You shook your head at her, causing her to slightly frown.

You absolutely love it when she fucks you with the strap, but tonight you wanted it to be all about her. You wanted to show her how much you appreciated her.

"No, I wanna make you feel good, my love." You tell her before pushing yourself off of her lap and sitting down next to her. You were balled up into her side; your feet were folded up on the couch, and your right hand sat on her lower stomach. You noticed that her pants sat low on her hips—she didn't have on her underwear, and your fingers were just a couple of inches away from her pussy.

"Can I make you feel good?" You whispered to her as you looked up at her to see her already looking at you. Her eyes gazed at you as she took in your appearance.

"Baby, you don't have to do that, you know," she pleaded, making you scoff at her.

Abby is a stubborn woman; she's always so hard to persuade, even if you're practically begging her.

"I know, I don't have to do anything," you bluntly tell her, "but I want to."

The hand that once sat on her lower stomach was now gathering the spit from your mouth and about to slip into her pants before you looked at her again. Abby sat there agape with anticipation, ready to see what you were going to do. "Is it okay if I touch you, baby?" You asked her before touching her.

She wildly shook her head until she realized that words weren't coming out of her mouth. "Y-yeah," She stammers.

With that, you slide your hands deeper into her pants, feeling the light fuzz of her hair, and dip your spit-coated fingers onto her clit. You feel her strong arm bring your body closer to her tense one as she shakes and gasps. She was already sopping wet without your spit.

Her eyes flutter closed, while yours are still stuck on her face. "You're so wet, mommy. Tell me when I made you this wet." You moaned out as you rubbed lazy circles onto her throbbing clit.

"When-" She tries to speak but is interrupted by her own moans. She bites down on her fist as she tries to gather her words and stop herself from moaning.

You didn't like that, though; you loved hearing her pretty moans.

"Put your fist down; I want to hear all your beautiful sounds. Now, tell me what made you so wet, mommy." She instantly dropped her fist as her grip on your shoulder tightened.

"When you-oh my god-when you licked my neck and gave me a hickey," she said as you used your middle finger to flick her clit back and forth in a fast motion, making Abby try to grab at your hand. She didn't know what she was feeling right now. She wanted you to stop, but she also wanted you to keep going. She wanted to cum and lose her mind at the same time.

As she inched closer to her release, she whispered, Don't stop, in your ear, but that didn't stop you from teasing her, so you gradually slowed your pace on her clit and completely stopped. Just as fast as the feeling came, it left just as quickly after you slowed down, making Abby narrow her eyes at you and snarl.

"Aww, you were gonna cum? Hmm, baby?" You tease her as you pull out your hand from her pants and stick your fingers into your mouth, tasting her saltiness. You made eye contact with her as you sucked on your finger.

"You're such a tease, you know that, right?" She breathes out.

You just let out a laugh as you popped your finger out of your mouth. Abby suddenly moved her arm around you and got off the couch, leaving you confused. She then began to strip herself of her pajama pants, leaving her nude from the waist down. You couldn't help but kiss her pelvic bone as she stood tall in front of you. You swipe your pointer finger through her wet slit, making her weak to the knees. Before she could go down, she staggered and grabbed your shoulder tightly.

"N-no touching yet, sweetie..." She scowled at you and said, "You're gonna get on your knees and eat my pussy like a good girl, okay?" You nod your head at her as your eyes trail up her body, stopping at her face. She released your shoulder, stroked your cheek, and faintly muttered good.

She sat down on the couch, scooting to the edge so that her bottom was halfway hanging off. She sat there with her legs wide open, practically inviting you in. You just sat there, taking in her appearance, until she snapped you out of it. "What are you waiting for, baby? Get on your knees."

Without any hesitation, you dropped to your knees and positioned yourself between her legs, just a few inches away from her pussy, which was glistening from her wetness. You gawked at the view in front of you as your mouth watered, still tasting her juices on your tongue.

"Are you alright?" she asked you, making you look up at Abby, who had her eyebrow cocked up with amusement. "You can have a taste if you want," she encouraged you. However, you didn't need much encouragement.

With that, you leaned forward, feeling the heat of her body as you got closer, and licked up her wet slit before wrapping your lips around her clit and sucking. Abby let out a gasp, holding her breath as she silently uttered, Oh my god, with a strained expression. She was about to reach for your head before she tried to grasp the cushion of your shared couch. You can hear her scratch at the polyester as her dull nails slide across it.

You dug yourself deeper between her legs, swirling and flicking your tongue around her clit. You could feel her arousal spreading across your face, including your nose. "Just like that, baby, keep eating mommy's pussy," she said, breathing hard. You felt yourself grow more and more greedy for her; you wanted to feel her against you, but you continued on pleasuring her. "You love tasting me, huh, beautiful?"

You loved it more than she could know; seeing the way she squirmed and moaned as you ate her out did something to you. It made you feel feral.

You let out a deep moaned around her clit, making her convulse at the vibrations. Abby's eyes squeezed shut as her jaw went slack before you released her clit from your mouth with a faint pop. You watched her sigh out as her eyes opened. She looked down at you with twinkling eyes and let out a chuckle. "Oh fuck, look at that messy face," she cooed at you. You licked up some of it that sat on your lips.

"It's so good, mommy," You moaned up at her.

"Yeah? Well, why don't you have some more?"

You nodded as you went back to licking her pussy. First, you nibbled at her lips, licking them and sucking. She enjoyed it for a little before she let out a frustrated grunt due to the lack of stimulation.

"Are you gonna keep teasing me, or are you actually gonna do something?" She said. You let out a soft laugh at her frustration, causing her to mutter fine as she grabbed onto the side of your head and shifted her hips so that your mouth went onto her clit. "Now eat." She demanded.

Right when she said that, your lips began to suckle on her pearl gently, making sure not to do too much. She pulled you in more as she grinded her hips, loving the way it felt when her clit when released from your mouth and sucked back in. You tuned out the sounds of your slurping as you were focused on making her cum.

"My good little slutty wife, look at you," she sighs out as you lap up her juices, "a-always taking care of me." You tried to keep your eyes open to watch her, but with her words and delicious taste, you couldn't help it.

You began sucking harder, making her body tense and her legs clamp around your head, but you quickly grabbed her inner thigh. You allowed your drool to flow off your tongue as you ferociously ate her cunt, making her more soaked.

"Gonna cum, baby! I'm gonna cum all over that pretty face." She moaned loudly, making you moan as well. "I'm cumming, oh fuck!" Her body was still tense, but now she was shaking—she cursed out and moaned your name as her cum gushed into your mouth. You swallowed it while some of it dripped down your chin.

You eventually pulled away from her pussy once her orgasm died down. Her breathing was loud as she lay there with her eyes closed, trying to catch her breath. Her loose strand of hair was stuck to her now sweaty forehead, looking beautiful as always. You just sat there between her thighs as you whispered, It's okay.

Finally, Abby took one last deep breath before opening her eyes, looking down at you, and letting out a chuckle. "I needed that," She said. Her hands rested over top of her t-shirt-covered stomach as she relaxed on the couch.

"I can tell, baby. You okay?"

"I'm more than okay," she said as she smirked at you, making you giggle. "Now can I fuck you? I wanna make you feel good."

"Nuh uh, Ms. Anderson, not tonight." You tell her as you place kisses on her inner thigh. Her body began to squirm, but she still kept her composure.

"It's actually Mrs. Anderson," she corrected you with her perfectly shaped eyebrow arched as she raised her left hand to show you her ring. "And why not, baby?" Her previous expression dropped quickly as she pouted.

"Because...I wanna keep tasting you tonight," you try to tempt her as you place your kisses closer to her pussy. It was working because she sucked in a sharp breath and bit down on her lip.

"You think you can cum one more time for me, mommy?" You asked her as you planted a kiss just above her pussy where the hair lay, on her soaking lips, and on her clit. She just nodded weakly as she watched.

You placed one more soft kiss on her clit before starting your attack again. You began to eat her out as if you were tongue kissing her plush lip. "Fuck, what has gotten into you, sweetie?" Abby moaned.

You groaned onto her pussy while bringing your fingers up to her pussy and teased her wet hole. You realized that you caught her by surprise because her body jolted. Once you slithered your finger into her, you began to move it in and out of her while servicing her clit with your mouth. You can feel her walls squeeze around your fingers.

"You're gonna make me cum already."

"Give-give me your hand so I can hold it while you make me cum," Abby sputtered out. You reach up, with your left arm resting on her thighs and stomach as our hands intertwine. Abby's stomach, as well as yours, flipped—there was something so mushy yet arousing about it. Seeing and feeling her finger rub against the ring she had given you did something to you. You move away from her pussy with your teeth lightly grazing against her clit. You slowly pulled your fingers out of her, then began to rapidly rub her pussy, making sure to focus on her clit.

"I-I'm cu-oh my god, I'm cumming." Her moans became uncharacteristically high, her legs got wider, and her grip on your hand tightened. Your arm began to ache as you continued your movements, but you had no plans on stopping.

"Cum for me, Abby; cum all over my hand, beautiful." You egged her on. You felt her squirm, trying to get away, but you pressed your wrist down on her stomach. Her face got redder and spread down to her neck.

"Shit! If you keep going, I'm gonna-" Her words were cut off as her eyes rolled to the back of her skull. Suddenly, her wet sounds got louder, and liquid began to gush from her, causing it to go everywhere. Down your arm, on your face, on your shirt, and all over herself. Some of it had even gotten on the couch, leaving a large wet spot, and on the carpet.

We're definitely going to have to get a new couch now.

"Oh!" You squealed out in surprise, continuing to rub against her clit. "You're squirting so much, baby!" It made you giddy that you were the one doing this to her.

Her body trashed around and trembled as she tried to speak, but she couldn't, so you decided that she had enough and stopped. You got off your knees and sat on the couch next to her before pulling her head into your chest. Her arms immediately wrapped around you. You could feel her quivering and breathing hard into your chest as you stroked and kissed her head.

"You did so good, baby," you murmured to her, rocking her back and forth.

You both stayed like that until she cooled down. You heard her say something, but you couldn't hear her, so you asked her to repeat herself.

"I can eat your pussy now," She said as her words were muffled into your chest.

"No, Abby. You need to rest."

"But I—" she tried to get out before you interrupted her.

You rolled your eyes. She was being stubborn again.

"No, plus you'll be home all day tomorrow, so you can do whatever you want." You smirked, making her smile into your chest, and said true in agreement.

It went quiet for a while until you felt Abby's breathing even out and her body slump against yours. She was asleep. You just shook your head, knowing she had been tired all along.

#abby tlou #abby anderson #abby x reader #tlou fanfiction #tlou #tlou fic #tlou part 2 #tlou smut #tlou2 #tlou fluff #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x fem!reader #abby anderson smut #abby anderson fluff #Farmer!abby anderson #smut

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crownmemes · 3 months

Text

Concerned Sentences, Vol. 7

(Concerned sentences from various sources. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"Is everything okay? You seem annoyed about something."

"I don't know why you do this to yourself. You know it doesn't help anything."

"You need to stop reading the news. It's bad for you."

"Doing something rash isn't going to bring him back."

"No, you're not doing this! You're going to kill yourself!"

"I can take care of myself just fine, alright?"

"I appreciate this concern, but I'm not like you, alright?"

"Sometimes, I think you might have a penchant for self-pity."

"There are always unintended consequences to everything we do."

"Yearning won't make it happen."

"When exactly was the last time you had a psych evaluation?"

"You can't save everyone, no matter how hard you try!"

"There's only so much that you can do, and you've obviously reached the limit!"

"I just don't understand why you work so hard to be alone."

"To deny who you are is much more painful than confronting what you hate about yourself."

"You don't need to trust them, but you do need to trust me."

"You're desperate and scared, and desperate people make mistakes."

"Battle scars are not always of the body."

"Denial can be a very powerful thing."

"Things like this - all things, in fact - have consequences."

"You're lonely, and sometimes loneliness turns to bitterness."

"Sometimes there are scars than cannot be seen."

"The truth is, despite you're abilities, you're still just one man."

"How are you really in the grand scheme of things?"

"She's using you, just like all the others."

"Listen, I really want to keep this between you and me. Why don't you start by just telling me the truth?"

"You're a bit out of it tonight."

"You can't hide out here forever, you know. You have to go home sometime."

"This must be a lot for you to process."

"I've known you for a decade. I know your behaviour patterns and how you think. You acted very out of character today."

"You seem like you're making up for lost time."

"You've got to learn to be the hero of your own life again."

"Actually, I don't smoke. Neither should you."

"Why should an accident happen? Are you concerned for your safety?"

"This hero stuff is only going to get somebody hurt."

"You like fighting, don't you?"

"I came as soon as I saw the morning paper. I thought you might need a friend."

"There's something not quite right with you today, and I can't quite put my finger on it."

"You need to decide what you want. Stop dwelling on what you can't have."

"Do you need a hug?"

#rp meme #rp memes #roleplay meme #roleplay memes #rp prompts #roleplay prompts #sentence starters #assorted;#concerned;

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santanasaintmendes · 19 days

Text

“might sound crazy but it ain’t no lie, baby bye bye bye”

part 6! to the Cosmic Girl Records

summary: the gang goes to watch the new deadpool and wolverine movie. . . without you? oh no, that can’t be right.

ollie bearman x reader & platonic!grid x reader

all photos are found on pinterest!

warnings: swearing, nothing too bad this time lol

a/n: wow. this took forever to finally get out bc i started so many other fics 😭 but here it is, it’s a bit short but enjoy!

landonorris has posted on his story:

liked by alex_albon, georgerussell64, charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, lilymhe and 5,292,402 others

landonorris: the gang is back 💪

tagged alex_albon and georgerussell64

view 11,482,493 comments

user1: uh oh, has y/n seen this yet 😬

alex_albon: 😰

georgerussell64: 😰

user2: may the 2019 rookies rest in peace 😔🙏

user3: rip lando he’s in for a mouthful

user4: why’s everyone freaking out

user5: just wait, give it a minute

unfortunatelyy/n: MF???

user5: and there it is.

unfortunatelyy/n: UMMM WHAT IS THIS

unfortunatelyy/n: WHAT HAPPENED TO OH I'M SORRY I CANT COME OVER FOR DINNER I’VE GOT A DOCTORS APPOINTMENT THIS FRIDAY

user6: OH NO.

user10: dawg’s dead fs this time 😔

user7: LANDO RUN WHILE YOU HAVE THE CHANCE 😭😭

user8: he’s probably left the country by now

landonorris: 😀

unfortunatelyy/n: PICK UP YOUR PHONE

landonorris: no.

landonorris: @alex_albon @georgerussell RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN

georgerussell64: YOU ASSHAT I TOLD YOU NOT TO POST IT

landonorris: YOU WERE LITERALLY THE ONE WHO TOLD ME TO POST IT

user9: oop 🫢

georgerussell64: i never took you for a LIAR

landonorris: @alex_albon you were there you believe me right?

alex_albon: . . . ummmm

landonorris: i see how it is i’m friends with a bunch of TRAITORS

user10: how does it feel to be betrayed by your best friends

alex_albon: 😶

unfortunatelyy/n: PICK UP YOUR PHONE

landonorris: omg i forgot about you

unfortunatelyy/n: oh you are so dead

liked by lilymhe, charles_leclerc, carlossainz64, alexandrasaintmleux, maxfewtrell, danielricciardo and 23,782,883 others

unfortunatelyy/n: whoever said revenge is best served cold clearly has never had chimichangas before

tagged landonorris

view 22,682,692 comments

user1: HELP SHES AT IT AGAIN 😭

user2: absolutely violated my poor boy 😔

user3: i fear he may never learn his lesson

landonorris: oh i hate you.

unfortunatelyy/n: just remember, you did this to yourself

landonorris: i hope you

user17: bro died mid comment

user4: his pr team got to him before he could ruin his life

unfortunatelyy/n: that’s what i thought punk

mclarenracingf1: 🖕

user5: LANDO?! 😭😭

user6: HE DID NOT LMAOO

user11: pr team probably took away his phone privileges so now he’s hacked into mclaren insta acc 😭

user12: lando rn: 🤓💻

user9: the side eye goes hard

user10: HELP WHERE DID SHE GET THESE PHOTOS

user14: she’s probably got a whole collection

| user15: mission: steal’s y/n phone

unfortunatelyy/n: 😓

user16: HELP HAHA

alex_albon: can you send me that second pic

unfortunatelyy/n: don’t even think about it, you’re next

alex_albon: 😨

alex_albon: @lilymhe your girlfriend is bullying me

user7: alex albon confirmed snitch

user13: at least he’s not in denial anymore

user8: can’t do nothing wrong in front of this guy otherwise next thing u know police are at your front door

liked by unfortunatelyy/n

lilymhe: do you deserve it

alex_albon: no?????

unfortunatelyy/n: HAH what a little liar

alex_albon: why do you hate me

alex_albon: no wait don’t answer that

alex_albon: wait i’m sorry

alex_albon: don’t embarrass me please

alex_albon: answer my texts y/n

alex_albon: please y/n

liked by lilymhe, charles_leclerc, logansargeant, landonorris, georgerussell64 and 23,832,993 others

unfortunatelyy/n: shhhh, my common sense is tingling, something you clearly don’t have

tagged alex_albon

view 11,482,399 comments

user1: the deadpool references, she is not holding back 😭

user2: dayummmm pop off queen

user3: can’t wait till it’s george’s turn i just KNOW she’s going to use the 2023 intro pose

alex_albon: HOW MANY TIMES DO I NEED TO APOLOGISE

unfortunatelyy/n: @landonorris ?

landonorris: do i have to

unfortunatelyy/n: yep

landonorris: are you sure

unfortunatelyy/n: YES

landonorris: fine.

landonorris: she only takes apologies in cash no card 💅🎀💋

unfortunatelyy/n: mhm that’s right

user4: HELP

user5: girl has homie in a chokehold fr

user6: the second pic 😭

lilymhe: what is that first pic 🤣

unfortunatelyy/n: alex tried to steal my car so I ran him over

alex_albon: THAT DID NOT HAPPEN

landonorris: y/n doesn’t even have her licence

unfortunatelyy/n: HEY WHAT DID I SAY

landonorris: im sorry 😔

unfortunatelyy/n: as you should be

georgerussell64: why do i have a feeling that i’m next

unfortunatelyy/n: my goodness, he has a brain AND feelings would you look at that

georgerussell64: oh you think you’re so funny don’t you

unfortunatelyy/n: i do actually

georgerussell64: 🖕

unfortunatelyy/n: 😘

user7: they’re never beating the siblings allegations i fear

unfortunatelyy/n: negative. i would rather die than be related to this child

user8: child 😭 i’m wheezing

liked by landonorris, alex_albon, lewishamilton, charles_leclerc, olliebearman, carlossainz55 and 6,923,749 others

unfortunatelyy/n: you look like something i drew with my left hand, which is coincidentally my non dominant hand

view 3,482,429 comments

user2: I KNEWWW ITTTT AHAHAHA I CALLED IT BITCHES

user1: HELP Y/N WHERE DID U FIND THAT SECOND PIC 😭😭

unfortunatelyy/n: dm me 😌

georgerussell64: nO STOP

unfortunatelyy/n: whatcha gonna do old man

user5: OLD MAN IM WHEEZING 💀

user6: so is george

user7: 😭😭

georgerussell64: call in the reinforcements @landonorris @alex_albon

unfortunatelyy/n: AHAHAHAHAHHA

georgerussell64: why are you laughing . . . guys? guys where are you

| unfortunatelyy/n: their loyalty lies with me peasant

georgerussell64: i can never win around here

unfortunatelyy/n: im glad you’ve come to terms with that

georgerussell64: OH YOU SUCK

unfortunatelyy/n: that’s what you get for being an ass

georgerussell64: IT WAS LANDO’S IDEA

unfortunatelyy/n: GASP

unfortunatelyy/n: WHAT

unfortunatelyy/n: jk i already know

user6: HELP 😭

georgerussell64: then why are u getting mad at me 😭

unfortunatelyy/n: cuz you’re fun to bully

georgerussell64: blocked and reported 🛑

unfortunatelyy/n: its ok you’re not the first

landonorris: she’s right 😐

unfortunatelyy/n: ugliness rears it’s head once again

landonorris: oh you are the worst

unfortunatelyy/n: 😘

a/n: tysm if you got to the end, have an amazing day xoxo santanasaintmendes

taglist: @ilivbullyingjeongin

#olliebearman x reader #f1 smau #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f2 #f1 #cosmic girl records series #santanaspeaks<3 #george russell #lando norris #f1 imagine #f1 fic #lando norris x reader #george russell x reader #alex albon x reader #2019 rookies #deadpool and wolverine #Spotify

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stardustedknuckles · 2 months

Text

I just realized that with Laura playing the original god of death in the opening:

"Lounging in the orchard, enjoying the peace."

And then Emhira to Purvan:

"You brought me peace."

And her words to the family of the man who died of old age:

"He brought your father peace, something we should all be grateful for."

We know that she was a close follower of the original god of death. There's just something tasty about being reminded that she did not take lightly what she did in usurping him. This parallel gives us a glimpse of how her values mirror his. She didn't take his place to do his job better. The connection of peace to death- no, the conflation of the two - really makes me think about whether returning the original god of death to the void was in fact an act born of kindness.

Even though Pelor is arrogant to say that she could not have killed a god if a part of him did not want to die, I do wonder exactly how true that is. Especially with Brennan pointing out Asmodeus saying, "Of course you killed the god of death! It's death! Try that shit on me!"

What would it be like, to embody the peace of death and never feel it yourself? What would a mortal make of that, if she were to get close enough to a god to see that yearning for the peace he provides to all but which eludes him forever? I think of Vespin Chloris, determined to usurp a betrayer god as an act of good. Extreme arrogance, but of good intent to remove a bad force form the world. And I wonder whether the Raven Queen knew exactly what she was entering into when she ascended, the loneliness she was inheriting. The denial of her god's gift and in turn giving him the peace he had provided so many.

Don't know about you, but if I was part of a godly family and lived with a hole where peace should be, I might not exactly tell them if I found a way to obtain it - especially if it meant departing from them. But! On the other hand, nobody can remember his name. He never existed.

With that being the case, who can say that he didn't tell them all exactly what would happen? Who's to say they weren't aware that losing him would mean never remembering he had left, or the way he felt about it, or the way they felt about him? Does the Raven Queen even remember how he felt about it? Does she spend time wondering whether she helped a god or overrode his will and killed him? Does she even remember who she dedicated her mortal life to?

It is one thing to lose someone. It is another for them to have never existed, for there to have only ever been this woman, this sister and to know that she was once mortal and nothing else. If she was once mortal, then someone else was there before. You only recall your sibling by the silhouette of the hole left behind in the logic of having a mortal among you. If he told you what was going to happen, you don't remember it. You don't remember anything.

And neither does she. Not where it counts.

#cr spoilers #the raven queen #cr downfall #I love memory bullshit and its implications I love it so much

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angelltheninth · 1 month

Text

Valorant Agents Develop Feelings for You

Pairing: Phoenix, Sova, Viper, Reyna, Jett, Chamber, Fade, Harbor, Skye, Iso x Reader

Tags: fluff, co-workers, first kiss, battlefield flirting, crushes, protectiveness, love confession

A/N: Despite being not good at games like Valorant I also can't stay away. It's not a problem.

Phoenix takes a while to develop feelings for you but he is protective from the start. He knows what it was like for him when he was a new Agent and he wants to make sure that you feel welcome. When he realizes he's falling for you he doesn't confess right away, and certainly not while you're on duty, he doesn't want any added pressure on either of you during missions.

Sova flirts with you hard from the moment you arrive so it's hard to tell when exactly he develops feelings for you. His behavior remains the same for the most part and you already know he enjoys flustering you. It's really up to him to confess, you don't really know when he's being serious about his feelings unless he makes it completely clear to you. That's not your fault , he knows that but he hopes that a kiss will make it clear.

Viper was in full denial of her feelings for you. She tried to distance herself from you when she started to see the signs of a crush happening. She hurt many people and she doesn't want to add you to that list, the only problem is that there is no real way to fully avoid you, to stifle out her emotions and stop herself from falling harder for you.

Reyna looks after you when you first join, giving you advice and guidance on missions, giving you tips during training. Most figure that she's simply being helpful but they don't notice the way she often looks at you, the smiles and kisses she plants on your hand for a job well done. She is making her feelings for you as clear as possible without outright saying she's in love with you.

Jett may be good at obstacle courses but she's not good at avoiding her feelings or yours. She responds well to flirting or banter, even on missions. much to the annoyance of your other teammates and friends. Many tell you two to get a room already, advice which she decides to take to heart when she confesses to you, unable to keep her feelings to herself anymore.

Chamber acts like a player and heartbreaker all the time, he has quite a reputation to go with that persona as well. In fact you were a bit suspicious of his intentions when he started flirting with you, but you didn't want to be rude and avoid him. He would wink at you before taking a shot and deliberately brush his arm against yours when passing you in the hall, he never denied being attracted to you, you just need to figure it out.

Fade doesn't mind flirting when it's still harmless but the moment it starts to get serious for the two of you she starts to interact with you less. The last thing she wants is to be the reason the person she likes has nightmares constantly or starts to hate her because of her powers. As you keep flirting with she realizes that she's the one who's scared now, she can't be scared forever, she wants to live a happy life with you instead.

Harbor will use his missions as an excuse to not fully commit to what he really wants, which is to have a relationship with you. Maybe he does spend the night when he has days off but he's also gone just as quickly so it can't possibly work out between the two. That's what he says to himself. Until you tell him you'll be waiting for him right before he leaves for his next mission. You'll wait. For him.

Skye gets flustered quite easily for someone who can be so fierce during battle. When you flirt with her she says a few things back to you and then leave before you can see her getting flustered over her own words. It takes you pulling you down for a kiss for her to realize that you don't want to keep flirting while being friends, you want her to be your girlfriend, you're serious about her.

Iso is a huge flirt, he loves making you blush, what you don't know is that he's using flirting to avoid his real feelings for you. From the moment he saw you he felt a connection and a pull towards you and at first he didn't think it went beyond a crush. However when you started flirting back and kissing his cheek for a job well done he began to see things more clearly. The last thing you expected was for the confession to come in the middle of a battlefield when he pulled you out of a line of fire and into his dimension.

#valorant x reader #phoenix x reader #sova x reader #viper x reader #reyna x reader #jett x reader #chamber x reader #fade x reader #harbor x reader #skye x reader #iso x reader #valorant imagines #valorant headcanons #valorant fluff #valorant x you #x reader

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lilbitdepressed27 · 3 months

Text

Tara Carpenter/Fem!Reader

Summary: Cast Away AU. What if Tara was with someone when you returned

Warnings: angst but happy ending

WC: 2.8k

Author’s Note: requested by @blackwidowifey Hope you like it dude. Sorry for any mistakes

The flight home, your mom refused to let you out of your sight. To be home, back in your that had not changed had felt so surreal. A part of you was scared, scared that you'd wake from this dream and be back on that island. If that were to happen you weren't so sure you'd survive.

"You don't need anything sweetheart?" Your dad's voice brought you back to the present, you were still standing in front of the door of your room.

"No, I'm okay dad. Thank you."

Your dad couldn't begin to imagine what you went through for the past three years. Almost four. He knew you had changed. Not just physically but mentally as well. To see you like this. So confused, lost. It hurt him. He wanted to help you. But he just didn't know how.

You were told by your sister that things had changed quite a bit. From your friends and Tara no longer living in Woodsboro. To your family not being in contact with Tara for the past year.

"Riley?" You had entered your sisters room, who didn't even live here anymore. Another thing you missed that you were now an aunt. She had gotten married two months ago. To the man she had loved for so long.

And you missed it.

"Yeah? Everything okay?" Riley had never moved so fast to get home the moment her mom called to inform her that you had been found. Almost four years thinking her little sister was dead. The sob she had let out had alarmed her husband. Her husband. The man that you met, the man that held her when the cops told the family that your flight had crashed and there were no traces of the plane. The man that held her when the search party gave up after just two months of searching. The man that kept her going after your funeral.

The wedding she had, had been small. She had no bridesmaids, that spot had been reserved for you. You were her little sister but also her best friend.

"What made you stop talking to the Tara and the others?" It had only been a day since you returned back home. You were still extremely weak, bruised a little too easily, still had some sun burns but with the luxury of some aloe. Those were healing a lot faster.

"They moved a year after the search party was called off. They tried to stay here but it had been hard for them. Tara took your dea-disappearance hard. She wasn't the same. She was different, depressed, in denial. Sam moved her to New York permanently so she could heal and move on. After a year of them being there. Our connection kinda stopped. I didn't reach out and they didn't either."

You listened to everything she was saying. Almost four years of being gone. You knew that if you made it and came back. Things would be different. People would have moved on.

"Can I..can I see your phone." Riley handed you her phone. You opened instagram with one person in mind. Typing in her username. She hadn't posted in a quite a bit. But what she had were just some nature shots. So you moved on to the next person. Mindy. The first three picture being of the friend group with new faces. A average height man had his arm around Tara. A smile on her face as she smiled at the camera.

Your vision blurred with tears. The same feeling of loss grew. Tara, had have moved on. And you couldn't be upset about that. You had no right to be upset. Tara could wait forever.

She didn't need you anymore.

You now hated the smell of fish and coconut. You vowed on that island that if you ever got off it you would never touch fish or coconuts ever again. After your dad said he had a few things he had to do. You jumped at the opportunity to get out of the house. It had only been four days since you were back home. The past four days you had spent them in the house resting.

When he drove to the cemetery you knew what he was doing. Seeing your own tombstone was something you never really thought of. Seeing the rock was bone chilling.

Going to the store after that was the distraction you needed. Helping your dad with the grocery shopping, but the more you moved around the more tired you were starting to feel, you tried to ignore it. You went three and a half years moving around barefoot and half nude. A little walking around a store shouldn't bother you. Your dad saw that you were getting tired and was quick to gather the groceries.

Meeting your niece was as tear filled as could be. The guilt of missing everything, you and your sister had always talked about being there for one another. You knew it was out of your control. But you could have tried to leave the island a whole lot sooner than you did. Granted it did take you awhile to understand how the changes in the seasons affected the waves.

"Are you ready?" Your dad asked, he was already dressed in a business suit. You had been for a while the one to take over your dad's business when he retired. The original plan was to finish college and then take over. But with everything that happened you didn't know where to stand. You weren't sure if that was still the plan. Six days since being back home and you still felt so, lost.

"Do I have to go?" You were in a suit as well. Matching the one your dad had.

Your dad sighed softly going into your room to stand behind you. You were looking at yourself in the mirror. You were healing nicely and quickly. Your cheeks filling in with all the food your mom had cooked. No longer looking hollow. He couldn't imagine how hungry you had been.

"It's up to you buddy. If you're comfortable enough. We could go or we can stay here and watch some Harry Potter. You know they made a game about Hogwarts."

"Really?"

He chuckled at the excitement in your eyes. He will always see you as his little girl. The amount of times he cried alone in your room, holding the stuff Curious George bear that you had refused to throw away. He reached over and fixed your crooked tie.

He could ditch the business party. He was boss after all. What he says goes.

"You know what let's go to the store buy a ps5 and we will play the game together."

Being back home after a year of being gone was a bit rough. Being back for thanksgiving break to be with her mother. One thing she had yet to do was something that she hadn't done in a whole year.

"Hey you okay?" The feeling of heavy hairy arm being wrapped around her shoulder. Pulling her attention away from the direction of your house. She hadn't spoken to your family in a year. A part of her felt guilty for stopping. But her boyfriend who was friend at first, had said it would be for the best. He had said she'd never move on if she never did. And in a moment of weakness, she stopped.

"Yea Frankie I'm fine. I have to go somewhere. I'll be right back okay?" With quick kiss she left her house before he could say anything.

It had been a year since she last saw your tombstone.

Parking her car, and walking the rest of the way. Only for her body to freeze in place. Your tombstone was gone. The patch of dirt was still fresh. The flowers she had dropped. The same sinking feeling of losing you came back.

"Excuse me where's the tombstone that was here." The gardener who was taking out over grown weeds stopped what he was doing to look at the brunette.

"Uh I heard from one of the workers. They were moving and took their daughter with them. I'm sorry miss that's all I know."

Moving? She picked up the flowers and rushed to her car. She needed to get to your parents house. The drive there was fast. She may have ran a stop sign or two. Yes, she may have started dating now. Mindy had pushed her to say yes to Frankie. She knew Mindy wanted what was best for her. And she won't deny that she did have fun with Frankie. He was sweet, a bit of a douche but sweet nevertheless.

Her car screeched at the sudden break. The 'for sale' sign was front and present.

Why would they move?

Being in a new house was nice. There was a big pool and hug backyard. A week since you been rescued. Your new room was much bigger than the one you had before. You had been building the courage to call Tara. When you finally did call the call never went through meaning this number was no longer in service.

You didn't know how else to reach her. Just tell them you were okay. That you were alive. But the more you thought about it. Remembering the picture you saw, they looked so happy. Did you really want to crash back into their lives, by all off sudden coming back from the dead.

"Honey, I have to go to work. You okay-Can I go with you?" You asked before your dad could finish his sentence. With a smile he nodded. Not caring that you were dressed casually. He was just excited to see you back in the office with him. He remembers clearly how you used always follow him around the office. Remembering how his little girl always sat on his chair. You used to be so small, now you were taller than him.

Curse his own tall genes.

Being back in the office had been as overwhelming as you had expected. Everyone greeting you, everyone looking at you like they've seen a ghost. It was all so overwhelming. But what really had you overwhelmed, had you feeling like you couldn't breath was when you saw the familiar brunette. She had looked as beautiful as the last time you saw her. She was breathtaking, she looked more mature.

Without really thinking about it your feet moved on their own accord. Halting, when a man took her hand. You heart breaking no matter how much she wish it didn't at the sight of her smile. A smile directed at someone else.

Tara was back in the building after a year of not setting foot in it. Being back her felt odd. But Frankie had an interview here. And he wanted her to come with. When she left what was once your house. She didn't know what to do. She tried calling your mom, your dad, your sister but none of them answered their phones. So she hoped that being back in your father's building. She'd run into him. Ask him why he took down your tombstone.

She felt Frankie take her hand. A small smile she towards him before looking away. She needed to find your dad. She looked around the lobby only for eyes to snap back to where she saw…you? Expect it couldn’t be. The person she could have sworn was you was walking away now.

“Tara? Tara where are you going?”

Ignoring his voice as she basically ran to where you once stood. It couldn’t be you. You were..dead. Gone. Watching the back of this person grow closer as they both turned into a less crowded hall way.

Her hand reaching forward to grab this persons arm. The moment this person turned around it had felt like all the air in her lungs had been punched out of her body. Her eyes refusing to believe who was standing in front of her. Those y/ec eyes that she had missed so badly. You were as beautiful as the day she last saw you at that airport. Those eyes that were now filled with tears.

“Y/n?”

You didn’t know what to say. You wanted nothing more than to pull her into a tight hug. Just like you had imagined. But now you weren’t sure if you could. You didn’t know your place in her life anymore. You didn’t have to say anything at the end. She had basically thrown herself at you. Her arm wrapping around your neck as she hugged you tightly. Her cries being muffled as she cried into your neck.

You lived in the moment. Forgetting the man she was with as you hugged her back just as tight. Even if this would be for the last time.

“You’re alive. When-when did you get back? Why didn’t you call?” She pulled away to look up at you. You looked different, skinner.

“Last week. I uh was on deserted island. Been there for the past few years. I-I tried calling. Your number wasn’t the same.” You reluctantly pulled away. When you saw from behind Tara that same man walking towards you and Tara.

Tara was still trying wrap her mind around what was happening. Feeling like this was all a dream. The way you looked lost and heartbroken made her want to just cry and pull you into another hug. To hug you. Kiss you. Her hands refused to completely let you go. She was confused on why you were letting go. Her hold on your hands was tight.

“I’m so sorry Y/n. If I would known I-Everything okay here babe?”

The confusion was no longer there. Now she knew why. The you looked away, this time completely letting her go. She knew exactly what you were thinking. That she didn’t love you anymore, which completely wasn’t the case. Her own eyes filled with tears. The guilt she had growing. Ever since agreeing to going out with Frankie it had felt like she was being unfaithful. She knew it wasn’t cause at the time she didn’t know you were still alive.

Seeing the hurt and heart broken look on your face (that you were trying to hide) brought that guilt back in bigger than before. Your eyes finally hers. And she saw the acceptance, the forced smile. The tears you were trying to blink away.

“It’s okay Tara. It’s okay.” It was all you could say. Hoping your voice didn’t give away that you wanted nothing more than to cry. With a small nod. You dug into your pocket. Taking out the pocket watch. The watch you had refused to go anywhere with out. You turned around and walked away.

She watched you walk away before looking down at the scratched up pocket watch. Opening the watch. Seeing the familiar picture. Except now it was faded. The picture becoming blurry. All the memories flashing in her head. The love she had for you was still there. Still here. Had grown more and more even when she thought you were dead. She still loved you.

You. It always had been you.

No one else.

“Tara?”

Her eyes looked back at Frankie. “I’m sorry Frankie. I can’t do this.” It was all she said before she ran to catch up to you. She was not going to let you go. Not bothering to look back as she tried to find in the crowd that had quickly filled the lobby. She knew it was the lunch hour, she needed to find you.

She was quick to step on top of the receptionist desk. Ignoring her commands to get down. She scanned the room seeing your figure getting closer to the front doors.

“Y/N WAIT!!” She didn’t care that the voice echoed through out the big room. It grabbed your attention along with everyone else in the room. She jumped down the desk and the crowd quickly parted. You were on the other side. Eyes red from trying to hold in your tears. Quick to get to your side. Stopping directly in front of you.

“I love you. Only you. No one else.”

“But you looked hap-I could never be happy without you. I don’t love him.”

“Are you su-” You were cut off by the pair of lips you had dreamed of. The feeling of her lips on yours was like kissing her for the first time. Your arms wrapping around her body, bringing her closer.

You no longer felt the dreadful feeling of loss. No longer did you feel lost. You felt complete.

Whole once again.

#tara carpenter x reader #fem!reader #scream #tara carpenter #x reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader

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heartgold · 4 months

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I think a lot about the way polydactyly is described in umineko ep1 because of the emphasis on the surgery to remove the extra digit often being done in early infancy (therefore without consent), with the intent of making the person "normal" while they grow up not even knowing about it...

of course this hints at sayo having her extra toe removed to hide her relation to kinzo, but I can't help but think about how it's specifically described in a way that evokes infant genital mutilation, especially considering sayo's backstory. all of her character reads like an allegory for intersex experiences imo, which also adds to her trans narrative. a major source of her suffering lies in how her gender struggles were complicated further by the reveal that her body was operated on without her knowledge, which led to sexual dysfunction and infertility.

the narration talks about the polydactyly surgery and reiterates the topic of bodily autonomy (already a big topic in umineko's first episode with the discussion of reproductive commodification of women's bodies) by mentioning how infants can be operated on to "fix" a part of their bodies to fit the idea of what "normal bodies" are like. the parallel to the mutilation of intersex bodies is very obvious to me. in sayo's case it was done as treatment for physical injuries rather than a literal intersex condition, but the narrative centering the violation of her autonomy persists with how she has her body altered and is denied the truth, having never had any means to cope with the inherent trauma of it all because the priority of genji&co was always to cover up anything that could implicate kinzo. she gets everything on her birth records falsified and she is intentionally kept in the dark about her own life. her entire personhood is erased. again drawing parallels to intersex experiences, doctors and parents will lie about it your entire life if they can get away with it. it's not uncommon to only find out you were operated on and/or forced on hrt as an adult!

even umineko's overarching theme about the nuances of truth vs magic can be read as an intersex narrative... it's a common experience to find out you were being denied your truth and made to live a lie "for your own sake". that truth may be unrecoverable and kept from you forever and all you can do is grieve it. your body is made into a catbox. I don't want to get too personal but some parts of confessions were chilling to read because of how similar they were to my experiences as an intersex person and I had never seen these very specific things portrayed anywhere. of course I can't claim to know the authorial intent, but it hit hard even as an allegory.

intersex and trans struggles aren't 1:1 the same but they have a lot of overlap, especially in regards to bodily autonomy, medical abuse and the gender assignment of bodies upholding a strict binary. trans people are denied transition while intersex people are forced through it, so a character like sayo who portrays that intersection of being both with such care is very precious. her struggles are strongly rooted in transmisogyny, intersexism, class and family, all which had her systemically disempowered, dehumanized and stripped of autonomy and agency.

her actions are a desperate gambit to gain some control over her own life, to be in charge of the narrative even if it's through selfdestruction. the horrors in umineko converge into the theme of systemic powerlessness and denial of autonomy. to be made into a piece. all of it combined makes up the multilayered meaning of furniture.

#umineko #umineko spoilers #sayo yasuda #◇#♤#again crossposted from my twitter with only minor fixes so sorry about any awkward wording...

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grandeoatmilklatte · 8 months

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A Year In Love 💚 - Ominis Gaunt x F!MC

Happy one year anniversary to Hogwarts Legacy! I can't believe it's been a whole year since the game has been released! (I can't believe it's been a whole year since I descended into madness over these boys either!)

A few of us in one of the HL Discord servers decided to all write a one year related fic, so here is my contribution to that. Enjoy!

Warnings - None! All Fluff! || 1.5k words

Ominis stopped walking as he felt his wand begin to rapidly pulsate in his hand - a sign that he had reached his destination. He sat on the grassy ground, using his wand to guide him again as he placed a small bouquet of flowers on his aunt’s grave, which was marked by a large rock, with various smaller colorful rocks and seashells surrounding it.

Today marked one year since the night that Ominis, Sebastian, and the new fifth year ventured into Salazar Slytherin’s Scriptorium, where his aunt Noctua’s remains had been found. She was the only member of his family to show him any compassion, and the only member of his family not obsessed with blood status. She was the only family Ominis felt like he had. Although the night brought back painful memories for Ominis, it also changed the course of his life forever, in the most positive way possible. It was also the night Ominis realized he was in love.

The evening started with Sebastian begging Ominis to join him in venturing into the Scriptorium, eager to see what secrets it held. Ominis didn’t want to go, well aware that the room likely held terrible things. But Sebastian wasn’t about to let it go, enlisting the help of his secret weapon against Ominis - the new fifth year, who Ominis had been harboring a small crush on.

“Please, Ominis?” His name sounded so lovely on her lips, he couldn’t bring himself to say no to her. She was far too convincing. His heart even skipped a beat when she complimented him on his rare ability of being able to speak Parseltongue.

As the trio descended into the tunnel leading to the Scriptorium; however, Ominis cursed himself for allowing his crush on the girl to cloud his better judgment. The tunnel radiated dark magic, and was full of various puzzles which opened the way to more, deeper tunnels. What started as a nerve-wracking endeavor quickly turned into anguish as they reached the entrance to the scriptorium, guarded by a door that required a Cruciatus curse to be cast. In front of the door lay his Aunt Noctua’s long forgotten skeleton, her journal pages around her body confirming it was indeed her.

While Sebastian explored the Scriptorium, thrilled by their discovery, the new fifth year was by Ominis’s side, her arms around him as he sobbed into her shoulder. Ominis felt guilty, knowing that he should have been the one comforting her after she had endured the painful Cruciatus curse from Sebastian. Ominis could feel the way her hands shook as she held him, but despite the pain she was in, she had put his needs before her own. No one had ever put Ominis first, or shown him this level of care, not even his own blood. Her kindness changed him, and it was at this moment that he fell in love with her.

Ominis awoke the next morning deep in denial, He convinced himself that he was just clinging to her because of the compassion she showed him, and he absolutely was not in love with her. That is, until he received her owl asking to meet outside the castle. When he found her, she explained that she had gone back in the morning and retrieved his aunt’s remains so they could give her a proper burial. Ominis fought the urge to get down on one knee and ask for her hand in marriage at that moment.

With her help, Ominis decided on a secluded spot across the Black Lake in a little clearing for her final resting place. The area was surrounded by trees and overlooked Hogwarts - the place Ominis called home.

As the year went on, and the two became closer as friends, Ominis fell deeper in love with her each day. They supported each other when Sebastian strayed further and further away from them, and Ominis showed her the same level of compassion she had shown him in the scriptorium after the battle against Ranrok, when she broke down in his arms after losing Professor Fig - the closest thing she had to a father. Despite the clear connection they shared, Ominis still hadn’t confessed his true feelings, fearful that she only saw him as a friend. That fear was extinguished for good on a random night, after she crashed her lips into his and confessed her own feelings for him after an after hours meeting in The Undercroft. From that moment on they were inseparable.

Ominis was broken out of his thoughts as he heard footsteps approaching. His heart raced when the footsteps got closer and a familiar scent hit his nose - her scent.

“I’m so sorry I’m late, Ominis! Professor Weasley needed me for something after class. I hope you’re not mad!”

Ominis let out a soft chuckle at her words, knowing he could never be mad at her. He stood to greet her, placing his hands on her waist to pull her into a gentle kiss. Once she pulled away, he heard her begin to dig through what sounded like a bag, followed by the sound of a blanket being fluffed out. As if she could read his mind, she explained herself.

“I brought us lunch, the weather is lovely, I thought we could have a picnic!”

As they sat in front of Aunt Noctua’s grave, enjoying the weather and food, Ominis’s mind began to wander again. This time, he thought about their future together. He thought about their graduation, and how he hoped she’d say yes to his elopement proposal he had planned for right after. He thought about what it would be like to have a home of their own, far away from the Gaunts. He even let his mind wander to children. Although he was still uncertain if he wanted to bring more Gaunts into the world, if they did have a daughter, he hoped his future wife would be open to naming her Noctua.

As he said his aunt’s name in his head, he felt a tingle of pain in his heart. She would never get the chance to see him as a married man or a father. She would never get to meet the girl who had stolen his heart and made him so happy. He hoped that she was proud of him for finding someone who loved him and treated him right, unlike the rest of his family. He hoped that she was proud of him for making a new legacy for the Gaunts.

“Are you alright, darling?” Her sweet voice laced with concern flooded his ears and broke him out of his train of thought once again.

“I miss her…” Ominis choked out as tears began to form in his eyes.

His fingertips registered the softness of her hands as she gave his hands a gentle squeeze. “Oh darling, I’m so sorry. I know you do. But she’s not truly gone. The ones who love us never really leave us. They’re always in our hearts and watching over us.”

Ominis squeezed her hands back, his tears freely flowing now. “I wish she could have met you. She would have loved you. I…I hope she’s proud of me.”

Ominis’s heart fluttered as he felt her lips press against his cheek. “She is proud of you. I know she is. So proud of you for doing the Gaunt name justice. She helped make you into the amazing person you are and will grow to be. She’s extremely proud of you, and so am I.”

Releasing her hands to cup her face, Ominis pulled her into a gentle, but passionate kiss. Their lips remained locked for several seconds, Ominis savoring the way her lips felt against his own. Over the course of the past year, he had kissed her many times, never once getting sick of it. He didn’t think he could ever get sick of her.

The couple spent the next hour in the same spot, talking, laughing, and updating Aunt Noctua on things that had happened throughout the year. They stayed until it got dark, Ominis feeling the change in temperature.

“We should probably make our way back, make sure we’re prepared for the potions exam tomorrow. Thank you for joining me today.”

“I wouldn’t have missed this for the world, Ominis.”

She stood up, pulling Ominis to his feet with her. He wished Noctua a good night and assured her that he’d visit again soon before taking his lover’s hand as they made their way back towards the castle.

When they had just reached the Hogwarts grounds, Ominis felt his girlfriend stop walking, but before he could ask her what was wrong, he felt her arms wrap around his neck as she planted a soft kiss to his lips.

“I love you, Ominis Gaunt.” she said softly. He could hear the smile on her face through her voice.

“And I love you.” he said back with a smile. And he did - he had loved her for a year, and planned to love her for many more years to come.

#ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis x mc

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sillydumbdoll · 5 months

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My name is Dolly!! I am 27, autistic, and nonbinary(she/they/it). I have an intense dollification fetish, and I am a bimbofication enthusiast as well as a switch who loves corrupting minds and being corrupted. I’m open to chill conversation, but most of all I LOVE asks and attention! I am an exhibitionist attention whore dolly who loves being admired!

pics of me: #dolly pics

Kinks: dollification (#1 always), bondage, hypnosis, bimbofication, corruption, stalking, kidnapping, obsession, edging, dumbification, cnc, tease and denial, oral fixation, exhibitionism, piss, petplay, humiliation, femdom, foot worship, body worship, findom, gooning

Hard limits: raceplay, ageplay, ddlg, “daddy”, fauxcest/incest, bestiality, blackmail (as the sub, I will do blackmail as a domme), hucow, ED/sh, and the usuals like scat, vomit, etc.

Misogyny kink is now a hard limit and I can’t stress this enough

Soft limits (I don’t fw these that much but in a rare mood I do, no this is not a challenge. BDSM is all about consent remember): degredation, penetration

Do not: ask for nudes, dm me about sex (fetishes are okay, straight up sex is not, and if you wanna send a threat/what you wanna do to me immediately, you can send an ask 😄), call me slut whore or bitch

DNI: MINORS, ED/sh content, bestiality/zoo, detrans kink if ur cis (sorry I really don’t like this)

✧you can pretty much send anything to my asks! I like asks a lot better than icky dms

✧you can give me tasks, request what I should post, and what I should wear! Nothing is guaranteed but I do enjoy doing it! (I prefer this being done on asks) or you can tip for a post within boundaries to guarantee it gets done :3

✧I would love to be dollified if you feel inclined to do so

✧I am trying to explore my hypno kink, if anyone wants to teach me about it, or help me out I’d love you forever!! 🌀

🎀Tip and gift here if u like my content! 🎀

DISCLAIMER: CONSENT is the most important thing EVER in kink!! I do NOT condone anything on my blog without consenting adult partners, it’s ALL just fantasy! Not real! Everything on my blog is meant to be taken as a part of my silly kinks that I like to talk about online, it’s all a fantasy, and I expect everyone who interacts with me is a consenting adult who knows the difference between fantasy and reality. If you don’t like anything I’m into or if it makes you uncomfortable, you don’t have to interact with me at all.

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jaketsparrow · 7 months

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SOMETHING... | JTK

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f! Reader

Word Count: 10.6K

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

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

Playlist

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

MINORS DNI

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

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

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

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

Professor Kiszka on the other hand…

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

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

3 Months Ago

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just for you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was empty.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“-Your favorite?” He asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t approve?” He scoffs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please, call me Jacob.”

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

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

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

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

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

You turn to face him, “Yes professor?”

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

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

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

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

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

Present

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You look like a pirate.” You responded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey.” He prods.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Two Hours Later

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You press play and lower the needle onto the music.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, dear god.” You sigh.

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

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

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

“Want to know something funny?” He questions.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did I offend you?” You ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“See this paragraph here?” He questions.

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

You need to focus.

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

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

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

“What…? What problem?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Professor-” You initiate.

“Jacob.” He replies.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But?” He inquires.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not scared Jacob. What rules?”

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

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

“How rough are we talking…” You prod.

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

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

You wanted that. Had practically dreamed about it before…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His kisses start to graze you closer to your…

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

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

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

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

“Good girl.”

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

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

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

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

“Green?” He asks, looking for permission.

You nodded your head ferociously

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

“Words.” He barked.

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

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

“Yes… Please, Sir,” You beg.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh god,” You moan, “How did you-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A knock at the classroom door.

“Hello?” Someone called out.

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

“Everything okay in here Kiszka?”

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

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

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saintclarkegriffin · 4 months

Text

The 100 ended four years ago so I think I can confidently say that i'm forever going to be stuck between the denial phase and the anger phase. No accepting or moving on for me.

I mean for the most part I just pretend that season 7 never happened, like I block it out of my mind. But when I do remember it happened, I just get incredibly angry. And I know it's not healthy to still be this upset over a fictional show that ended in 2020, but I can't help it.

I think about how Bellamy was character assassinated and then killed off in the most brutal and stupid way possible, shot by CLARKE of all people, over a damn BOOK, that she didn't even take!!! I think about how he died all alone, without a chance of saying goodbye to any of his friends or his SISTER!!! I mean think about how crazy that is, Finn died but got to say goodbye to Clarke, Lexa died but got to say goodbye to Clarke not once but twice, Lincoln died but got to say goodbye to Octavia, Jasper died but got to say goodbye to Monty, Kane died but got to say goodbye to Abby and Indra, and Bellamy??? The male lead of the show Bellamy??? He dies and he doesn't even get to say goodbye to OCTAVIA??? The Blakes don't even get a proper final scene together??? And I get angry.

I think about how Clarke, the main lead of the show, was cast aside for half the season and then also character assassinated, turned into a selfish vindictive cold-blooded person who never learns from her mistakes and suddenly doesn't care about being the good guy or doing the right thing... even though the entire point of her character arc was that she was fundamentally a good person, selfless, altruistic and empathetic, who was forced into impossible moral dilemmas. But she never stopped caring!!! Making these impossible choices never got easier for her!!! Because she was good!!! But suddenly in season 7 she was turned into everything that Clarke antis accused her of being. And what's Jason's excuse for this? "Oh, well, if you think about it she was never the hero... she was doing awful things early on in the show, just against people we didn't care about like Mount Weather... In season 7 we put the audience in Mount Weather's shoes"... excuse me???? As if Clarke didn't try literally everything in her power to get her people back, without having to harm/kill the people in Mount Weather??? As if Clarke didn't decide to pull the lever only when she saw her own mother and her friends being strapped to a table to be tortured and killed for their bone marrow??? As if Clarke didn't feel distraught over what she had to do, to the point that she felt like she had to leave her people and be on her own in the woods for months??? As if she didn't have nightmares??? As if she didn't feel guilt and regret over Mount Weather and Maya up to freaking season 6??? And I get angry.

I think about how Bellarke, whether romantic, platonic or something in between, was the MAIN relationship of the show, with the most development and screen time. And that relationship was absolutely destroyed in the most contrived, spiteful way possible!!!! Jason had to character assassinate both Bellamy and Clarke to make it happen. That's how resentful of Bellarke and Bellarke shippers he was. Even though he was the freaking show runner!!! He had the power of writing Bellarke platonically from day one!!! But Bob and Eliza confirmed that they were told that Bellarke was romantic in nature, and that's how they performed it!!! Jason was the one who wrote 2x16 and 4x13, arguably two of the most important episodes for Bellarke... he came up with together!!! He took the head and the heart from the fans and put it in the show!!! He wrote Clarke calling Bellamy every day for 2,199 days!!! No one forced him to do that!!! But he did, and for what??? For Clarke to shoot Bellamy in the end and kill him??? Even if he didn't want to make them canon for whatever reason, he could've still written an ending that was respectful of their friendship and history in the show. But no!!! He had to destroy everything that made Bellarke what it was. And I get angry.

I think about how Octavia spent YEARS trying to get back to Bellamy, to see him again and tell him how much she loves him... And then in the second half of season 7, she just gives up on him??? She doesn't even TRY to understand what happened to him on Etherea, she doesn't talk to him, when Bellamy visits her and Clarke she just stands there with a disappointed face and doesn't say a word. And then when Clarke tells her that she killed Bellamy, she just hugs her and tells her that she understands??? And so would the old Bellamy???? The 'old Bellamy' she didn't even TRY to get back, the 'old Bellamy' she simply gave up on??? Literally every character from Octavia to Clarke to Raven to Murphy to Miller to Echo, had to be character assassinated so that Bellamy could die the way he did. Because none of them would've given up on him!!! They all loved Bellamy!!! He was the 'dad' of the deliquents and then the leader of Skaikru on the ring. But suddenly nobody cares about him, nobody tries to understand what happened to him or tries to change his mind, not even his SISTER!!! AND I GET ANGRY.

I think about how the message of season 3 was that 'pain means that you're alive' and 'you don't ease pain, you overcome it', and how it is better to live in an imperfect world than a perfect simulation. And then in season 7 there's Transcendence which is basically the City of Light 2.0, an immortal hive mind where there's no pain and no death. Just "peace" for eternity. But suddenly THIS hive mind is okay... because? Because the Judge and the other aliens (putting aside how ridiculous it is to introduce ALIENS in your show in the very last episode) are fair while A.L.I.E wasn't? There's nothing 'fair' about deciding which species is worthy of Transcendence and which isn't. Especially since the punishment for not passing the test is MASS GENOCIDE. And yet the Judge is portrayed as 'good' and 'fair' while A.L.I.E. was the one actually trying to ensure the survival of the human race!!! And don't get me wrong, A.L.I.E. was evil but in her methods, her motivs were actually morally sound compared to the Judge and the rest of the aliens. They only did what they did because they believed that they were morally superior to all other species, and if one species wasn't 'good' enough according to their moral standards, that meant that they deserved extinction!!!! "But at least with Transcendence you can choose whether you want to transcend or not, A.L.I.E. didn't give you a choice" bullshit!!! If you "choose" not to transcend, the aliens still take away your chance to procreate and have kids from you!!! They make you infirtile against your will!!! Your species still dies with you and your friends!!!! Why? Because some aliens said so!!! And that's supposed to be an happy ending??? Just because all the characters are smiling and hugging, it doesn't make this ending any less horrific once you think about it for like two seconds. And I get angry.

And finally I think about how the entire message of the show was NOT survival like Jason claims, but how 'life should be more than just surviving'. How 'life can be more than impossible choices and a tragic end'. How humans can 'be the good guys' and break the cycle of war and violence and tribalism. And in the end none of that mattered. Humans kept fighting each other up until the last episode and only stopped because they were being 'tested'. They got absorbed into a hive mind and they're going to be stuck there for all eternity, no lesson learned, no real peace gained. Our main characters, that we've followed for seven seasons, are going to eventually die, leaving nothing or no one behind. All the sacrifices, all the impossible choices they've made... completely meaningless, since the 'survival' of the human race was never up to them building a better world and society after all, it was always up to the morally superior aliens. I think about how they got to survive, but they didn't get to live. And I get angry... because I really loved this show and these characters so much... and they just... they deserved better. They really did.

#i needed to get all of this off my chest #and i can only really do it here #the 100

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saerins · 7 months

Note

U think u could tell us how y/n’s mother figured out she fucked with Eita?

extra chapter: friendship

꒰ঌꨄ︎໒꒱ — part of priceless. before you ever met sae, when you were twenty there was another boy that took care of you: how your mother figured out you were fooling around with eita, and all the little things in between.

content: otoya eita x female reader. smut/nsfw. both reader and eita are great at being avoidant. pet names (baby/princess), cunnilingus, penetration, mentions of masturbation, orgasm denial, they get caught in the act. word count: 2.3k

༝༚༝༚ omg nonnie SORRY my hand slipped this turned out way longer than i thought it would be !! but yes anyway have this :D wrote this at work btw & didn’t proofread so you have been warned !!!

this is bad. so bad.

you really shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t be testing the waters like this. you’re at a recon for the school, taking a tour of the hotel for the event that you’re all going to be ushers at. but that doesn’t seem like the case when you and eita seemingly love to do whatever you want, whenever you want.

ever since that night at the club, the first time you’d ever let eita in, it’s become addictive.

the distraction. you never have to think about what bothers you whenever he’s around, whenever he looks at you with those lust-blown eyes, whenever his fingers trail to your inner thighs; always a tell-tale indication of what he wants, what he needs from you too.

he’s your best friend, and this is not what best friends should be doing, but you crave for the way his tongue can make you forget, even if just momentarily, about all your problems. you really shouldn’t be doing this, getting distracted so many times especially during exam season and especially not in a public place but the both of you can never help it.

not like the fleeting touches in the bus helped. eita’s always the one who instigates it, his fingers always finding some way to sneak onto your thighs, squeezing the soft flesh before testing your limits, creeping higher and higher until he drags you into a vacant hotel room left unattended by one of the staff, to the safety behind closed doors where no one would know of your little antics with each other.

and sometimes you think he’s been waiting a long time for you to submit to him, with the way he’s always hungry for you, or maybe that’s just how he is—you wouldn’t know. but his many other girls would, though now he’s too preoccupied with you to pay attention to anyone else.

he’s staring down at you as you lie down on the bed, dress hiked up over your chest, his fingers trailing down your chest to your underwear, hooking under the waistband and tugging on it. a little tilt of his head as he appreciates what he’s about to undress completely.

he really shouldn’t take his time, given that the staff could come knocking on the door at any moment. but he’s already locked the latch so they shouldn’t think about getting in if he isn’t done with you yet.

“pretty,” he comments, voice hoarse with arousal as he swallows the lump in his throat. “this new?” because he swears, of the many times you both have done it by now, that he’s never seen you wear such lingerie, satin mixed with lace, in black and so, so enticing on you.

you giggle under your breath, his pants growing visibly tighter as he continues to stare at you. “does it matter?” it is new, and you’d partly just wanted to see what eita looked like when he really likes something, and he’d once said that he likes black lace. an off-handed answer or not, he gives you the reaction you’re looking for, hands desperately grabbing onto your hips as he kisses you as if he hasn’t seen you in forever.

but he’s seen you just two nights ago, squirming under him on his sheets. he’s seen you three nights before then, when he willingly ditched a date for you. he’s seen you many times in ways no one has ever seen you before and right now he’s going crazy because why has he never noticed that you’re so fucking ethereal like this?

your mouth squeals out his name as he marks you a little too hard on your neck, the image of you one day somehow not being solely his managing to irk him in some way. but that’s the deal, that’s what he told you—that this is temporary, for fun. and you’re keeping your end of the deal; you’re never clingy, and you never act like he’s yours. that’s good, because getting attached just sounds like such a hassle and eita’s fine with this.

he’s fine with your hands unzipping his pants, pulling it down as desperately as he’s undressing you; the thin material falling to the floor as he breaks the kiss to look at you, all bare underneath him. you always avert your gaze when he does this—the only time he’s ever seen you shy. you’re otherwise always brazen with a sharp tongue that seeing you like this, trying to contain your voice as he massages your breasts, somehow turns him on so much that he can’t help but tease you, to try to break through your guard.

eita scoffs, a smirk on his face as he tauntingly mocks you. “usually you’re so loud when you talk back to me in public,” he hums, tongue flicking against your nipple, your back arching in response. “what happened to you now, huh? what’re you holding back for, princess?”

his fingers glide across your skin slowly, down your chest to your hips to your pussy, his smirk growing wider when he finds that you’re absolutely soaked and he’s barely done anything yet. he supposes that’s the adorable part of you—since he’s your first, you’re always so excitable, so vulnerable.

“eita, i swear to god—”

he pushes a finger in before you can cuss him out, disturbing your train of thought as he sucks on your nipple, getting what he wants and hearing you moan out his name in a way only you can—so saccharine and sinful that it makes him even harder.

you drive him absolutely crazy.

“look at yourself,” he says, pressing his forehead against your cheek, head tilted towards the mirrored wall just beside the bed. your walls clench around his finger and he chuckles, pressing a kiss on your cheek. “such a good girl, letting me do what i want to you.”

you’re never used to this, to letting eita completely have the upper hand, to let eita talk to you like you belong to him, but you’re helpless whenever it comes to this. your whimpers are enough to let him know that he has control, and he always knows how to make you feel so good that you willingly submit.

“fuck,” you groan as you feel him pushing another finger inside you, your eyes squeezing shut, the tears flowing as you start to feel overwhelmed by it.

your phone rings at the worst time, and you’re about to just ignore it when eita does one better. “answer it,” he tells you, after looking at the caller ID. it’s just kimiko, the student who’s put in charge today, responsible for overseeing all of you and making sure you all know what’s going on before the actual day.

“but—”

“answer,” he tells you again, his fingers stopping midway, a mewl leaving your lips as you feel the high you’re chasing abruptly disappearing. he pulls his fingers out, showing you just how wet you are, the string of your slick being pulled apart by his fingers.

eita’s sexy and cruel and downright irritating when he knows he’s got the upper hand, but you have no will left to resist, wanting the release he can provide you, your hands already reaching out to answer the phone, hoping to make it short and sweet.

he knows what you’re thinking, you’re not as elusive as you think in these situations. that’s why he purposely latches his mouth onto your clit the moment you start talking, your voice quivering as you feel his tongue licking quick fat stripes up the nub. you can’t even wait for kimiko to respond, hurriedly telling her you and eita are busy before hanging up, your fingers tangled in his hair as your thighs wrap around his neck.

“something wrong, y/n?” he teases, his chuckle sending light vibrations that make your spine tingle. but he knows you love this, love the way his tongue rubs circles around your clit, love the way he’s telling you to cum for him, love the way he’s taking such good care of you.

the way eita moans as he feels you close to your high always tips you over the edge, and every single time he denies you of it, making you beg for him. always a sadist, but it’s not like you can resist.

brows raised in mockery, the back of his fingers brushing against your cheeks as you plead with him to please fuck you. yet he always caves in almost immediately, a dangerous sign that you can get him to do almost anything you ask.

eita taps his dick against your pussy, your slick collecting on his tip, his mouth falling open at the sensation, at the mere thought of being inside you. he’s so, so tempted fuck you raw but that’s not a risk either of you can take.

he’s confident he can pull out, definitely. but maybe if it’s anyone but you. if it’s you, he might just lose himself. he’s already jerked himself off to the thought of cumming inside you, at the thought of filling you full and watching as his cum flows out of your pretty little cunt.

so no, he can’t fucking risk taking you raw because he might actually doom the both of you. reluctantly, he grabs the condom from his pants pocket, long discarded on the floor, and rolls it over his length, the way your eyes are filled with desire already threatening to send him spilling before he’s even inside you.

you’re so, so dangerous.

so fuck, why is he so hooked?

his eyes gaze at where you’re connected to him, the greens rolling to the back of his head as he feels you clenching around his dick, sucking him in. he’s had sex too many times to count, with multiple girls of multiple origins—his head falls back, tilted to the ceiling because he’s so, so close but fuck if he’s going to cum before you do—and yet you’re the only one who feels this good.

what is it about you?

he can’t fucking think straight, not when you keep chanting his name like that—it’s already committed to his memory by now. it’s his favourite melody; the way you say his name.

“eita, fuck i can’t—”

eita’s eyes fly open, looking at how your hands are gripping at the sheets, at how your face is positively lewd that it makes all those videos he watch go to shame, at how the condom is soaked with your juices. he can’t take it, his fingers digging into the plush flesh of your thighs, your name flying out of his mouth in half moans, something he’s too ashamed to admit he only does with you.

“just cum for me, baby,” he pants, the pet name rolling off his tongue before he can realise it but the both of you are too lost in how you feel that it flies over both your heads. “good girl, come on, cum.”

his skin slaps your skin once more, thrusting hard one last time as he releases, your gummy walls clenching around him as you let go at the same time, your nails on his biceps finally relaxing, nearly drawing blood.

eita’s panting, falling onto you as he squeezes the last drop out, wishing that it was spilled inside you. you let him rest against your body, like you always do because you’re nice, taking the time to catch your own breath. it’s like routine by now, the both of you barely discussing about what you just did, acting like it’s a part of a normal day, like best friends fuck each other everyday, and then go back to resuming what you’re supposed to do.

that is, getting back to kimiko and the others. a part of you feels a little guilty; even though you don’t know her aside from your one-minute interaction earlier today, you know by the look in her eyes when she stares at eita that she’s probably got a crush on him. being a pro soccer player in university as well as being part of a band in school, you’re not surprised that girls are practically lining up for him. yet here he is, too busy for other girls because he’s busy satisfying you.

both of you are too absorbed in your individual thoughts to realise that the door is already opened now, when you’re still pulling your underwear up halfway, when eita’s still standing there in just his boxers, and the both of you are staring dumbly at the person in the doorway because you both recognise them.

there she is, your mother in all her demonly presence, scoffing with her arms crossed as she looks her daughter up and down like she isn’t entirely surprised. beside her is the current man she’s making use of, a poor thing you don’t even want to associate with because she’s going to discard him as soon as he does something wrong.

sometimes you wonder if she ever loved your father or if he was just one of these… poor things.

“get me a different room, i don’t want to sleep in one where such loose kids have been in,” she commands at the man, as if she doesn’t know you, glaring at both of you with disgust. though you and eita look at her with the same look in your eyes.

the moment she leaves the room, you feel eita’s warmth surround you, but your hands stay at your side, both anger and despair welling up in you at the same time.

this is temporary. this is just a distraction. but eita will do his best to make you forget, no matter what—because he’s seen you that day, broken and wailing, blood all over your hands. he’ll do anything not to see you like that again.

there’s a certain selfishness in his actions, but his kiss stuns you anyway, because you know it’s probably not just a simple kiss but lack the energy to dissect it anyway.

“just forget about her, okay?” he whispers in your ear, the gentlest tone you’d ever heard him in.

for now you just let it be, and so does he. things are easier if neither of you question this. for the sake of your friendship.

yeah, that’s what it is.

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