summary: you had been in love with tsu'tey for as long as you could remember. so when you see his heart break again at the loss of another mate, you offer him comfort, expecting nothing in return
genre/warnings: smut!, oral (m receiving), angst, unrequited love
wc: 2k
a/n: this is my first time writing smut, so i hope i didn't screw it up completely. please let me know if there's anything unrealistic or sounds silly (i am a virgin, idk what the hell i'm doing), i'll be glad to change it. also, please don't forget to leave some feedback, replies, whatever you want. i love reading what you have to say, and it always encourages me to write more ♡
masterlist - part 2
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
You watch in silence, your focus only on him. As things escalate between Tsu'tey and Jake, people around you begin to gasp and murmur, filling the space with noise. All you want to do is to call out his name, get him out of there.
It’s obvious to you that his challenge means nothing. He does it to upkeep his reputation, but if he kills Jake, Neytiri will never choose him again. Tsu’tey draws a knife, bending down over Jake’s unconscious body.
“Neytiri was promised to me,” Tsu’tey grabs him by the hair, bringing his knife closer, “This is a demon in a false body. It should not live.”
Neytiri suddenly lunges at Tsu’tey with all her might. She knocks him off his feet and takes a defensive stance over Jake, baring her teeth and knife. You notice Tsu’tey's posture weaken, as he watches his mate claim Jake as her own in front of the whole clan. He knows it’s too late for him to fight, Neytiri and Jake are now mated for life. Your heart aches at the sight of Tsu’tey's bloodied face and the way he spits on the ground before retreating into the forest, disappearing from the crowd.
Desperately, you rush after him, ignoring the noise and commotion breaking around you. It takes some time for you to finally spot his frame, partially hidden between thick bushes, sitting on a rock with his head hanging low in defeat.
Sylwanin was his first true love. You watched them fall in love while you were still children. Having a crush on somebody who was already claimed was tough on you, but you knew that Sylwanin and Tsu’tey were meant for each other, and you tried very hard to be happy for them. You remember it as clear as a day when they announced their bond, and the way you cheered for them, joining in on the celebration. But in your heart, you couldn't help but wish for the kind of love that Tsu'tey had for Sylwanin. You prayed to Eywa that she would one day grant you such feeling.
Losing Sylwanin in that tragic accident was devastating already, but being arranged to mate with her sister instead must have been an unbearable burden for Tsu’tey. Your heart shattered into thousands of tiny pieces when you first heard the news, and there was nothing you could do to help. Tsu’tey was a great hunter and warrior, there was no one more deserving of being Olo’eyctan than him. And though he bonded with Neytiri over their shared grief, he knew that he could never love her the same way. When Sylwanin died, a part of him had also died with her. And now, witnessing Tsu’tey lose his mate to another man was agonizing.
“Tsu’tey,” you catch his attention, approaching him.
As if caught in a moment of vulnerability, Tsu’tey sits up straight. You grimace at the blood smeared around his beautiful face, eyes glistening with the threat of tears. Noticing your gaze lingering on him, Tsu’tey hurries to wipe his eyes. Future Olo’eyctan or not, he didn’t like that you saw him like this. Quickly, you reach forward and grasp his wrists, preventing him from hiding his face.
“‘M sorry,” you mumble.
“I’m fine,” he huffs, shaking his hands to free them from yours.
You don’t take offense to his harshness. Growing up, Tsu’tey always had a soft spot for you, but that did not apply during the moments of humiliation. You crouch down in front of him, letting his frame loom over you.
“You shouldn’t have followed me, Y/N,” he says, like it was an order you disobeyed.
You purse your lips, uncertain if Tsu’tey truly means it. Despite being only two years older than you, Tsu’tey still treated you like a child sometimes. Even as a kid, he exuded dominance and strength, his presence alone putting everyone intact. So whenever he saw boys bullying you, Tsu’tey was quick to tell them off. He would then nudge your shoulder, coaxing a smile from you, and consider his job done. But what he failed to recognize, after all these years, is that you never saw him the same way he saw you. Your heart ached every time you looked at him, knowing that he could never be yours, and that his own heart belonged to someone else.
“I don’t want to take out my anger on you,” Tsu’tey’s tone is stern, “You better leave, Y/N.”
“You can take it out on me, I don’t mind,” you say softly, as his eyes widen in confusion.
“I’m not kidding,” he warns you with a low growl.
“Please, let me help you,” you plead with him, resting your palms over his thighs, “I can take it, you don’t have to hold back.”
Tsu’tey rarely heard those words. He was always scolded for being short-tempered, acting out of anger. That those were unsuitable qualities for the future Olo’eyctan. Tsu’tey tried to contain it, but often old habits would slip right back in. He shifted under your touch, gazing at your hands, while his mind went to places where it shouldn’t go. He thought that he was probably reading you wrong, still upset over the fight.
You weren’t sure if this was where you wanted things to head, when you followed him. But right at this moment, you felt like there was nothing else you wanted to do for him. Your heart truly desired to see him relax for a moment, even if it was at the expense of your feelings. As you slowly moved your palms higher on his thighs, Tsu’tey drew in a short breath. He watched you silently until your fingers grazed the edges of his loincloth.
“You don’t have to,” Tsu’tey put his hands over yours, in an attempt to stop you, but all you could feel was the heat radiating off his skin, making your heart race.
“I want to,” you insist, “Let me make you feel good.”
“You know I can never truly devote myself to anyone else but Sylwanin,” his voice drops, and you have to perk your ears to hear him.
“I know,” you move your fingers to his sides, reaching the ties of his loincloth, “I don’t expect anything in return.”
“Y/N…” Tsu’tey whispers but you shush him.
You notice the way he tries to resist the growing lust, despite longing for it to be satisfied. His mind tells him to walk away but his body doesn’t comply. Would it be so bad for him to get lost in the moment and just let it go? Let himself forget about all of his worries and pretend that he had nothing weighing down on him?
You hesitate before untying his loincloth, waiting for Tsu’tey to stop you, but he doesn’t. As the fabric slides off his sides, revealing his already hard cock, you’re taken aback slightly. Tsu’tey watches your reaction with a hint of shame; he can’t believe he’s already aroused just by the way you undressed him.
Slowly, you lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his thigh. You hear Tsu’tey’s breath hitch and feel his muscles clench, as you start trailing kisses up his skin. When you reach his balls, you pause. You have never done anything like this before. Sure, you heard girls talk about pleasuring their mates in many ways, but you could only dream about making Tsu’tey happy. It’s scary.
You take a breath before planting wet kisses to his sack, then some more to the base of his member. Instinctively, his penis twitches underneath your lips, and you hear Tsu’tey let out a small moan. Your ears perk up at the sound so pleasant, you wish you could hear it everyday. You’ve never seen this side of Tsu’tey; he was always so stern, so aware of the way he presented himself to others. But here he is now, trembling under your touch, letting his guard down. Feeling braver, you wrap your lips around his sack, sucking in gently. Simultaneously, your fingers find their way around his penis, giving it a light squeeze.
“Tsahey,” he grunts through his teeth.
The sounds he makes are so satisfying, you feel heat rush to your cunt. You try to ignore the growing sensation, as you press your tongue flat against his shaft, and follow along a prominent vein. Tsu’tey’s grabs the back of your neck, bringing your face closer, ordering for more. You had no idea that you were unintentionally teasing him, making him impatient.
Getting his hint, you take the tip of his penis into your mouth, your tongue occasionally grazing the top, as you suck on it. You let the saliva drip out of your mouth and smear it over his shaft with your hand, beginning to draw small motions up and down, your mouth still working.
“Take it all in,” Tsu’tey grunts, “Please.”
Tsu’tey had never sounded as desperate as he did right now. To please him, you lean in, trying to take his whole penis into your mouth. It was your best attempt, given how big he was, and feeling the tip press against the back of your throat. It tickles your skin like an annoying scratch you want to tend to. As you lose the rhythm of your breathing, suddenly feeling overwhelmed, you pull away. Instead, you work your hand up and down his penis, now completely covered in your saliva. You massage his balls with your other hand, and when you hear Tsu’tey draw in another short breath, your walls painfully clench around nothing. You push your thighs together, trying not to get distracted by your own desire.
As you pick up a rhythm with your hand, Tsu’tey’s muscles are clenching and relaxing at every movement. He starts to grow impatient, wishing to feel the inside of your mouth again, and reaches out to direct his penis into your mouth. You take him in.
“Tsahey,” he grunts again, then lets out a soft moan when you swirl your tongue around him.
Tsu’tey suddenly stands up, forcing you to sit up higher on your knees. This new position now allows him to slide his full length into you, tickling your throat and almost making you gag. Tears prick up at the corner of your eyes, as he starts jerking his hips forward in small, quick motions. To hold you in place, Tsu’tey grabs you by your hair, and starts speeding up, thrusting into you more violently. When he tugs at your queue, you let out a small whimper.
Distracted by the sound you just made, Tsu’tey slows down, locking his eyes on yours.
“Will you be alright?” he asks, his breath shaky. You suck on him as a sign of approval, “I just need a moment, I'm almost there."
Tsu’tey grips the back of your neck, and picks up the speed of his thrusts again, hitting the back of your throat with a new force. He is going harder on you, desperately chasing the wave of pleasure. Your mouth felt so warm, so soft around him, cheeks sucking and pressing against his length. The tears in your eyes turn your vision blurry, and you try to blink them away, to watch his face. He looks so beautiful.
Suddenly, you feel his member clench, and Tsu’tey pushes into you a few more times. His movements become sloppier, and when a loud groan escapes from his lips, you feel warm bitter liquid filling out your mouth.
“Mawey,” he whispers, his lids heavy, as he pulls out.
He presses his fingers against your chin, lifting your head just enough to encourage you to swallow. You gulp down, maintaining eye contact, and Tsu’tey hums with a smile, satisfied. Your cunt clenches painfully, pleading for attention, and you squeeze your thighs again, trying to calm yourself down.
Tsu’tey notices it immediately, eyes now lingering on your loincloth. You look away, embarrassed to get caught by him, and wipe your mouth.
“Thank you, Y/N,” he says, still standing bare in front of you.
It’s awkward, you don’t know how to behave now. You stand up, still not meeting his eyes.
“Feel a little better now?” you ask softly.
“Much better,” Tsu’tey places his fingers under your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes, “Do you want me to help you with that?”
Your cunt clenches again, when his gaze trails down your body. You feel heat rush to your face at the mere thought of Tsu'tey pleasuring you. But you’re too flustered, you’re not sure you can endure it.
“No, this is not about me,” you shake your head, “I wanted to make you feel better because you didn’t deserve what happened.”
“I must be a fool,” Tsu’tey admits with a guilty sigh, “I never thought that you... that there was something.”
“I know you hadn’t,” you dismiss the way his eyes burn into yours.
“You deserve someone better. Who is not as broken as me,” his hand cups your cheek to offer you comfort.
“Please don’t,” you pull away, interrupting him before he can pity you, “I know you don’t feel the same, Tsu’tey, it’s alright.”
You force a small smile, blinking away the tears in your eyes. The moment between you is fleeting, but it weighs heavy on your heart. You know that he can never love you.
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, bullying, coercion, anger, yelling, Lloyd being Lloyd. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: You’re just an intern but that doesn’t matter to the demanding CEO of The Hansen Agency.
Character: Lloyd Hansen
Note: Why did I do this? I believe we’ve asked this question before and as ever I do not have an answer for you. So, enjoy.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)
Love you like Lloyd loves needlessly gross jokes. Take care. 💖
It’s your first day in office. In any office. The summer internship spoke to you as an easy way to earn a couple extra bucks before heading back to campus. Now that you’re in the thick of it, it might be a bit more than you bargained for.
I don't know why, but it feels as if I've been waiting for this fic for my ENTIRE LIFE. His character is just amazing. My heart can't handle the perfect balance between his cruel and domineering behavior when he orders her about and his slightly hidden praise.
I know he's just using it as an excuse to try and use her, but... I would fold sooo quickly if he said that about me, lol. Like...
Yes, I would SPRINT to Starbucks, he doesn't have to pay me with money, tho😏😏😏.
Maybe I could get a cake pop for sad boy Prof! Steve. Honor his lack of rizz in the face of Lloyd's "if you want something, take it (or her, in this case)" mentality.
Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, car sex, Lloyd being the worst, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.
“Allow me, Mrs. Hansen,” Lloyd sweeps away the tray from your lap, “can I get you another coffee–”
“You can stop,” you say, “whatever you’re doing, I don’t believe it.”
“Baby, you know I don’t do half measures, so you better accept it. I’m all in… at least, I’d love to be all in.”
“Ew,” you scowl and push yourself away from the pillows.
“Ah, wait,” he turns and puts the tray on the dresser, “you think that’s it?” He comes around the bed and lifts your legs as he sits, placing them in his lap, “you just sit pretty and let daddy take care of you.”
He grabs your foot and pushes his thumb into the arch. You moan without meaning to and lean back as he keeps a firm grip on your ankle.
“That feel nice, baby,” he rolls his thumb around, “hmm? Be a good girl and I’ll give you a happy ending.”
“You make everything grosser than it needs to be, you know that?”
“Peaches, I’ve seen the real you, you’re just as nasty as I am,” he snickers as he kneads your foot, “besides, I gotta take care of you and the baby, right?”
You furrow your brows. This can’t just be because you yelled at him last night. It’s not the first time that’s happened and it surely won’t be the last. So why all this now?
“Huh, right,” you utter doubtfully. As much as you want to try to kick the mustache off his lip, his hands feel too good to resist, “fine then, you can play servant all you want but I don’t, I won’t, forgive you.”
“I know you miss it just as much as I do…” he purrs, “the way it tickles when I eat the kitty.” He wiggles his mustache, flicking his tongue explicitly, “you taste like candy, you know that?”
“Lloyd,” you growl and try to pull your foot away, “it’s not going to work this time.”
He clings to you, pushing his thumb deeper, “you remember the first time we fucked? You were fucking slick. And loud. Fuck, it’s getting me hard just thinking about you in that maid outfit. Maybe we can dig one out,” he raises your foot and kisses the top, “you can put it on for me…”
“No,” you flick your toes and nearly his jaw, “get off of me.”
“Or… I could wear it for you.”
“What?” You push yourself up on your elbows, “why–”
“To show you how sorry I am, peaches. Really, I’d do that for you. Thong and all.”
“Somehow, I don’t think the thong is such a big deal for you,” you retort and drag your feet away from him, “I don’t have the energy for this. Please.”
“I’ll put in all the work,” he reaches to rub your thigh, “you let me, and I’ll do whatever you want me to–”
“I want you to go away.”
His face falls and he retracts his hand, “I could run you a bath? Or bring you some tea–”
“You exhaust me,” you sit up and rest your hand on your stomach, “you and your damn kid.”
You push yourself up with a grunt and move your hand to your lower back. You wince as you feel a light warmth on your middle. You look at Lloyd as he comes close, pressing his palm to your stomach as you try to stretch.
“Hey, what are you doing?” You swat him away.
“I wanna feel it.”
“You can’t, it’s too soon,” you sneer.
“Oh,” he steps back, “right…”
You feel him staring at you. You try to ignore him as you sidestep him and head for the bathroom. You get to the door and glance back.
“What are you staring at?” You tut.
“You,” he smirks, “you’re glowing, mommy.”
You wrinkle your nose at the nickname and scoff. You shut the door behind you and flip the lock. You really can’t keep up with this man or this damn pregnancy.
💎
"We'll let the men do the heavy lifting, dearie," Dottie chimes as you stroll up to the restaurant, "and the painting. Can't have the little one breathing in those fumes."
"Mm," you hum, not voicing your preference at getting away from Lloyd. You haven't mentioned the previous night or his antics.
She opens the door and stands back as she lets you precede her. You enter the bistro, greeted by a fresh-faced girl perfectly waved hair.
"Patio or dining room?" She prompts swanishly.
"We'll sit outside, enjoy the weather," Dottie answers as you look around.
"This way," The server smiles and grabs some menus and rolled cutlery before guiding you.
She sits you outside under and umbrella and lays out her wares as she explains the day's specials. She leaves you a moment to make up your mind, the afternoon shining bright above you.
"She's a pretty one, ain't she?" Dottie remarks.
"Yeah," you answer dully. You don't like to be jealous but you feel so old and bloated.
"Don't mind me, I've always had a wanderin' eye, Harlan's got a green streak though. Hates it but he loves me so," she shrugs, "anyhow, I'm more concerned about you and Marion..."
"What about us?" You open the menu and distract yourself with the sandwiches, roast turkey and cranberry sauce sounds delicious.
"I haven't seen that boy near a stove in years," she tuts, "so... he's puttin' in some effort for ya, missy."
"Seems like the bare minimum," you flip the page listlessly, "gonna be a lot more to do than turn a stove on when the baby's here."
"Exactly what I told him," she points her long nail at you, "I'm just sayin', ain't too often what you say goes into his brain, usually bounces right off his eardrum but ya know, I saw him working away in that kitchen. I got lucky, see, Harlan loves cookin'. More of a grill type a man but it does the job."
You close the menu and set it down as you consider her, "how exactly did the two of you raise someone like... Lloyd?"
She laughs, "get that a lot. He's special." She taps her nails on the menu as she peruses it, "I know things was hard for him when he went away for school. We got him the fees, Harlan worked, borrowed and begged to see that boy get an education, but some things, the extras you know, were lackin'. He didn't walk in wearin' no designer get-up or whathaveyou. I suppose they weren't very nice to him 'bout that." Her lined lips turn downward, "sweet thing, he came back that first summer and he weren't the boy I sent off. But he still looked after us, still loves us and we love him."
"Ah, well, guess at a place like Harvard, you gotta fake it til you make it," you shrug, "I didn't really do much with school."
"Ah, yes, he tells us you used ta clean offices, modest but hard work, nothing wrong with it."
"He... told you about that?"
"Course he did. Says you broke your back doin' it."
You think and suck in your cheek as you nod, "and did he tell you about my first husband?"
She snickers again, "we all got one of those. Or two. Or three." She looks away and winks across the patio. You turn to watch the young blond sipping from a clear mug, he look perplexed by the gesture, "I admit, Harlan wasn't the first but he's the last."
"Oh," you utter, "right. Well... I guess it just feels a bit late to me to start over."
"Too late to turn back know, got a ring and half-frown babe in ya," she clucks, "you get over this little hump and get a few big ones in," she smirks, "once the kid's here, ya won't have the chance for it."
You keep from rolling your eyes. Sometimes you hear Lloyd when she opens her mouth and it confounds you. She sounds so wholesome and yet when he's spouting off, it makes you want to smack him upside the head.
"But first, you have a bit of fun with those toys," she sips from her water, "get him worked up. He needs a bit more sufferin'."
"Dot," you scoff.
"I mean it. Me and Harlan, we'll go on an adventure tonight, explore a little," she sets her glass down and looks back to the young man trying to evade her ogling, "and you do a bit of explorin' yourself."
The MC is absolutely amazing, If I were her I would have given in so easily that it's embarrassing. I hope she remains strong and makes him beg for it, even though he would probably enjoy that, lol.
Hi 👋. So, I've decided to write something for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor mini writing challenge. The prompts I've used are
Shovel
Wooly Sweater
Warnings - Minors DNI, Smut, Masturbation (Male and Female), Voyeurism (Without Consent), Stalking, Overall Dark Themes.
Overall just a small drabble about a dark!CaptainAmerica fiction obsessed with the OC.
Enjoy, and please feel free to comment and reply if you want to. It is much appreciated.
Mine to love, Mine to break.
He was running out of time.
Sweat beaded upon the peripheries of his blond locks as his muscles threatened to seize under the sheer pressure of it all. He utilized the primitive shovel betwixt his clenched fist to tear the frozen earth away from its resting place. Personifying the very essence of his being as that of a desecrator; one who stares into silence and screams into its boundless void in a futile endeavor to dilute its potency.
Yet, at this very moment, power was simply a fleeting glimpse of all he lacked. Despising it with every core of his being as he pummelled into the ground with the righteous fervor of a man made of nothing: a facade.
Continuously wrenching the rusted steel through the dirt until it bowed to his force and contributed to the cacophony of rings, screams, and addled breaths that danced around his tumultuous mind. As if they were taunting him, and a man of his stature would not stand to be mocked nor disparaged.
What a paradoxical sight.
The idealistic symbol of America besmeared in soil and a substance so much more viscous and damning. Whilst the serum running through his veins is rendered impotent in the face of his desperation.
The darkness elucidated the hollow delirium that had consumed him whole.
A few weeks prior.
The wind nipped at her skin through the gaps of her woolen sweater as she ambled through the barrage of rain that seemed to be purposely attacking her with all of its might.
Bright, almost jarring against the dull grey of the pavement beneath her hurried step. Violaceous purples and sunny yellows remained incongruous against her forlorn expression. Thread-bear jeans, which were a tad too short for her taller figure allowed the puddles to splash against her ankles and seep into her dilapidated black pumps: soaking her feet and exacerbating her misery.
Years of toiling over her work merely to be overlooked and underpaid had marred her once bright smiles with hints of fatigue and lines around her amber eyes.
With a heavy heart, she unlocks the door to her flat building and lumbers up the stairs that substitute the lift that had not worked since she had taken residence.
Entering her lodgings with a sigh she places her keys onto the hook and placed her sole pair of shoes in their designated place by the door. Mentally preparing herself for another evening of monotonous preparation for yet another day of underappreciated exertion.
Settling into her bed after eating her leftover spaghetti and attempting to douse her struggles with the limited hot water in her shower was a feat within itself. Endeavoring to find respite between her thin white sheets as sleep continued to evade her.
Her mind rustled with thoughts of the trials and tribulations that faced her. She needed a distraction.
Rummaging through her small bedside drawer she found her savior: a small pink vibrator.
Maybe she should take some time for herself? Surely, she has earned it.
Taking her smartphone off of its second-hand charging cable she searched for some porn to watch. After a few minutes of absentminded scrolling, she found the perfect video. One of a woman bound to a bed as a man pounds into her while she lewdly whimpers and moans into the underwear stuffed in her mouth.
Leaning her phone against her headboard and turning to lie on her plush midriff. She selects the video and shoves the vibrator under her trousers. Suddenly too desperate for any foreplay, she presses it against her clit and moans at the sensation.
The jolting pleasure as she ground her clit into the vibrator with ever-increasing desperation. Imagining herself as the woman in the video, with arms bound so that she could do nothing but take his thick cock with squealing moans as she tasted her wetness through her panties.
Releasing her whimpers as she toyed with the wetness seeping out of her desperate little hole. Begging into the empty air for release as her thrusts increased, making the bed tremor.
Turning the volume up to hear the man dirty talking to the woman as her tits bounced with every rapid thrust, with no care for her thin walls as she obsessed over her pleasure.
She was so close, her brunette hair dragging against her face as she chased her climax. The coil tightened as her pussy grew wetter and wetter.
Suddenly, it burst within her and she opened her mouth in a silent scream as her overstimulated clit continued to glide over her soaked vibrator. Riding it out until it became far too much to bear.
Breathing deeply as she attempted to digest the orgasm she had just given herself she turned off the video and vibrator: suddenly embarrassed at how deafening it was. However, the obscene amount of slickness between her legs was undeniable - she had squirted.
Removing the soaked vibrator from between her legs she began licking her slick from the device, silently worshipping it for the pleasure it had given her. She felt no need to clean up the mess between her legs that had leaked onto her bed sheets. For now, she was content with reveling in it and occasionally reaching down with her two fingers and tasting it.
She had experienced the best orgasm of her life. So, did he.
Watching her through the cameras he had covertly installed in her minuscule home, he had seen it all. Recognizing just how much of a slut he had desired for himself and how satisfying it would be to quell her need in the name of his own.
For that pulsating cunt to be wrapped around his cock as she came. He pumped his cock into his clenched fist as he moaned her name, using his preccum to lubricate the movement.
The moment he came, he realized the true extent of his obsession. Which ranged from premeditated chance encounters in supermarkets to following her home under the cover of shadow. She belonged to him.
After such sacrifices for his country, and for the world he was owed this minute gift. A pussy to warm his cock at night, and as far as he was concerned she already belonged to him.
The last time he had entered her apartment her sweater had been laying on her bed. He had scrutinized it and inhaled her aroma lingering in the cloth. Fuelling the blaze of his addiction to her.
He wanted to love her. He wanted to own her. He wanted to break her.
To him, it was all the same.
Her grins as well as her anguish belonged to him, and if anyone dictated otherwise her smiles and screams would stop altogether.
literally posting this bc i’m literally feeling so blessed rn but… i just got a call from work and i found out they’re promoting me to a writing position in the company !! 😭😭
all i’ve ever wanted to do is tell stories and write. i can’t believe it is actually going to be my job 😭😭😭😭
Don't listen to them, your writing is amazing and whenever you post updates it really brightens my day. So, thanks soooo much for your fanfics. And please don't listen to the loud minority and know that the majority of us love your drabbles/fics. Even your personal updates are brilliant.
Anyways, love ya, and thanks for your presence on this crazy-ass website, Roo. 💕💕💕
Oh I am confident in my writing and they hate that. It's something I've worked at so why should I let a faceless anon tell me otherwise.
You are appreciated and your kind words are amazing and wonderful! I'm here to have a fun time with yall and those who can't join on, that's too bad for them.
I don't know what this is but I chose professor Steve
One is the Loneliest Number
“I’m sorry I’m late,” you bluster in through the door, “I got caught–”
You stop short. The room is empty. You check your watch, the small golden piece your mother got you before you left for college, and peer around once more. There is only one other body in the immense room. Your professor, Dr. Rogers.
“Oh, hi, I…” you sputter, “it’s not the wrong day, is it?”
The question strikes you as stupid the moment it hangs before you. No, he wouldn’t be here if it was the wrong day.
“Did I get the wrong time?”
He sits up, setting down the book on the desk before him. He looks unimpressed as he leaves on the hardcover of his copy of Wuthering Heights. Your own is a curling paper back with wrinkles along the spine. You bite your lip and teeter on your toes, turning your toes together.
He watches you, sliding the book loudly across the wood, “you are the only one. Seems like this wasn’t such a good idea.”
You frown and look above his head, at the face of the clock ticking on the wall. It’s almost twenty minutes past the hour. You feel worse for him now than you did running in late.
“I’m sorry, professor, I…” you look around awkwardly, “I was so excited but maybe someone else will show up. I don’t mind waiting.”
He seems less than heartened by your words. He sighs and looks down at the book, running his fingers across the embossed cover. You go to the middle row and lift your bag onto the desk, fishing around for your copy.
“Maybe we can get started without them,” you volunteer, searching for anything to kill the unease, “I really enjoyed the book, Prof–”
“Don’t bother. Go back and have fun with your friends,” he waves you off as he turns back up the aisle, “I won’t keep you. Obviously, you coeds have a lot more going on than some ancient tome.”
“Oh, uh,” you blink at his back, his broad shoulders stretching the tweed of his blazer. He talks as if he’s terribly old but he hardly shows it. There’s a few strands of silver in his hair but you can hardly tell as they blend into the golden highlights, “so, what do you think? Did Bronte mean to reprimand her protagonists or romanticise them? I thought the narrative was kinda condemning, don’t you think?”
He stops and pushes his head back. A long breath as he turns on his heel.
“Really? Most would say it’s overly praising, that it glorfiies Catherine and Heathcliff’s love,” he intones, “at least, most girls your age say so.”
“Well, I uh… found it almost annoying that Heathcliff refuses to change,” you explain as you sit down, “truly, but with Hareton, Catherine can grow…”
“Hmm,” he hums and walks along the next row, turning a chair around to sit, “tell me more.”
You rub your dry lips together before you find another thought. You don’t want to admit that you were scrolling on Reddit and a lot of your ideas were borrowed from the arguments there. Still, you came all the way here and you just couldn’t bring yourself to leave him.
You go on about the mirroring of Heathcliffe and Catherine, how their similarities are almost detrimental, as if they are part of each other rather than lovers. He nods thoughtfully as you speak.
“I don’t know, I think I need to do a second read,” you shrug as you eyes meet his. The intent blue irises nearly make you wither.
“I think you got it,” he allows his mouth to curve just a little, “thank you for humouring me.”
“No, professor, I–”
“I’m not stupid, the letters beside my name would at least suggest that,” he leans back in the chair and frames his book with his thumbs and index fingers.
You admire the cover, leather inlaid with the image of the literary amours, “yours is much prettier than mine.” You close the curling cover and try to hold it smooth, the blocked font offering little more than simplicity. “I got it from the second-hand pile at the student shop.”
“It has character,” he says as he reaches over, his thumb brushing yours as he slides it from beneath your grasp. He flips through the pages, the soft breeze of the flutter causing a short blond strand to droop down his forehead, “a special sort of beauty.”
He peeks up at you. You don’t know what to say. What he’s waiting for. You smile as his gaze follows your nervous fingers as they tap against your throat. You still the anxious gesture and look at the clock.
“Like you,” he breathes.
Your eyes drop back to him and you shake your head, “pardon?”
“Hm,” he tilts his head, “I didn’t…” he cranes to look at the clock, “well, I won’t keep you any longer. I guess you should–”
“Have you been to Marge’s? The new cafe down by the arena?” You blurt out. Your habit of rambling when you're addled never fails to corner you, “I was going to go there after and have some tea. Maybe…” you touch your cheek, suddenly embarrassed. “Oh, shoot, I guess that’s too forward. I’m sorry, I’m not… I’ll go.”
You reach for the book but he keeps it in his grasp. Your eyes meet his as he watches you, “I like tea,” he offers, “if you don’t mind the company.”
I have not posted anything of my own before so, I may be a tad bit awkward. Nonetheless, I finally feel as if I am getting somewhere in life.
For the first time, in a while, I genuinely feel certain about my future and where I am in life. I have not been happy for a while and I do not expect myself to be consistently exalted with life.
However, right now, I feel content with myself and where I am going.
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