Surrender (JackSepticEye x Reader)

One

(Just as a side note: I have never read nor will I ever read 50 Shades of Gray. It is a very poor representation of the BDSM community, and my intention here is not to try and base it off of that book.
Please forgive me for the things that I am about to write.)

  

"Stupid fucking thing. This tells me nothing!" You wanted to throw the paper in your hand away, but then that would have meant that you were completely on your own. The campus had plenty of buildings in which to get lost in, and on your first day as a freshman, well... you would have looked foolish.

Freshman? Hardly. You started college a little later than most of your friends from high school, who opted to go right after graduation. You, on the other hand, worked a steady job and tried to save the money so that your loan debt wouldn't be so high. It was a good, solid plan in your opinion, and you had managed to scrape up a decent amount to afford the tuition.

And so, at twenty-two years of age, you had started college at long last. You wanted a degree in psychology; people always fascinated you, the way they thought and reacted to certain situations. And especially how it affected them.

"--hey, watch where the fuck you're going!" cried out a voice, startling you as you finally looked up from your map, just in time to collide with someone.

"Shit! Fuck! I'm sorry, I am so sorry!" you replied hurriedly. "I didn't hurt you, did I?!"

"Ugh, no, but... damn it..." You saw the problem immediately: there were art supplies scattered everywhere. You stooped down to help her pick them up, as she stuffed them into a lockbox that obviously hadn't been locked properly. "Thanks."

She sighed a little, a girl with two buns on the top of her head, bleached blonde with the roots showing. It looked as though she was in desperate need of a haircut, considering the undercut she bore had grown out a good deal. But she smiled a little bit and stuck out a hand, the one that wasn't balancing her lockbox and sketchpad. "I'm Stephanie."

"Hi, Steph," you replied, offering your own name in exchange for the handshake. "I'm sorry again, but can I ask you a bit of a dumb question?"

"Shoot."

"Where's the Unus building?" You bit at your lower lip, shaking your map a little. "Its the first day and I'm already fucking lost. I don't wanna be late."

She smiled, her blueish-gray eyes lighting up as she turned around and pointed at the building right beside her. "This one. See the lettering on the wall?" Sure as shit, the words UNUS BUILDING were emblazoned on the side.

You slapped your forehead. "God, I'm a fucking idiot. Thank you."

"Oh, not a problem! Did you want any help getting to your class? Can I see your schedule?" You pulled it out of your purse and handed it over. She eyed the paper with curiosity, pouring over the words; it was nice to run into someone who wasn't in the art department. Even if you had quite literally run into her. Her eyebrows raised at the first class of your day but said nothing about it. You were clearly old enough to be taking such an adult class. "Interesting. Okay, well, the room number here corresponds with the floor number. And the Unus building doesn't really have any weird twists and turns, so it's really straightforward."

"It is? Oh thank fuck. I just hope the rest of them are the same way..."

"Looks like you'll be running all over campus with that schedule. But hey! I'm in the same first class as you, so I'll just walk you there anyways." She smiled brightly.

"That sounds just fine." As the pair of you walked, you eyed her baggage. "I'm guessing you're majoring in art?"

"Illustration. Its driving me nuts but I'm still going at it." Her smile waned a little; it was only the first day and she still seemed exhausted. "This is my fifth year. I didn't graduate last year cause the professors said they didn't like my work ethic."

Your eyebrows knit together. "That sounds like a load of horse shit. What exactly happened?"

"I have bad mood swings. It affects my work. They said my talent is good but my work ethic sucks. They're giving me one more year to fix my issues before I graduate." Her smile returned, but it seemed rueful. Perhaps there was more to it than she was letting on?

The pair of you climbed several flights of stairs to get to the third floor, where your class resided. The room proved to be empty, save for one lone male in the back of the class. He was on his laptop, and didn't pay the two of you any mind as you walked in.

"Hey, Steph, can I ask you something? I'm hoping it isn't too personal..." you added as the two of you sat down. You would have preferred a seat somewhere towards the back of the class, but she ended up choosing a seat front and center. Of course.

"Sure, what's up?"

"This isn't an art class, why are you carrying all that shit?"

She laughed under her breath slightly, looking down at the floor. "It's just easier to bring everything with me, wherever I go, you know? I'm used to it. This is my fifth year, don't forget. At least I won't be lugging around my entire portfolio for awhile. Not till midterms, anyways," she mumbled.

Almost immediately she opened her sketchbook, seemingly to a random page that was blank, and began to doodle. It seemed like an anime drawing of some sort, and her talent was fairly good from the glimpses you had seen as she flipped through. You smiled to yourself and pulled out your blank notebook, fully prepared to start taking notes even though the first day would probably be quite easygoing.

Soon enough the class began to file in, in small amounts of one or two people at a time. Almost all the seats were taken by the time nine o'clock hit, but the teacher wasn't there. There was nobody at the desk up front.

This was intriguing. Was the professor actually late for the first day of school? What a hell of a first impression. You sat back in the seat, looking at Stephanie, who seemed too absorbed in her drawing to really notice the obvious lack of teachers.

"All right, listen up, folks, I'm only gonna say this once: I take this class very seriously." Who had spoken? It was definitely a male, with a bit of an accent to his voice. Was it European? It seemed Irish, or perhaps that was just your impression. But... who had spoken?

The male on his laptop shut it down and closed it with a snap before standing up, picking up the device and carrying it with him. Then he set the laptop on the professor's desk and looked around.

He is way too young to be teaching.

"My name is Professor McLoughlin. Welcome to the Psychology of Sex."