#you didn’t even believe in what you said
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❝ 𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐒 !! ❞
❝ PROF. GETO IS SO HOT AND NOW HE’S YOUR THESIS ADVISOR !! ❞
✧ pairing: professor!geto x f!reader (yuta x f!reader) (part six of the prof geto series)
✧ summary: just when you had moved on, suguru is back in your life as your thesis advisor, and what choice do you have but to deal -- deal with lingering feelings from your breakup, but also yuta's. and through this, you both find out what you all owe to each other.
✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut , fluff, but also angst depictions of student/teacher relationship (only ok in fiction not irl!!!), reader is a grad student, but age is vague, post breakup, dealing with exes, insecurity, semi-exhibitionism, desk sex, fingering (f! receiving), handjob (m! receiving), oral (f! + m! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, multiple orgasms, amateur's take on moral philsophy and ethics, fanart by @ / kyrraen (pls go follow them, they are so talented)
✧ w/c: 25,305 | part one | part two | part three | part four | part five
Suguru never had believed in fate before — before he met you.
And now it seemed fate had its own plans for the both of you — pulling you together, even when he had tried his best to push the two of you apart. Try he had, and in the end, you both ended up back where you had started — seated across from each other with a pile of papers littered with red pen.
Except now he himself had found himself littered with you — your tie pin you had given him, the way his fingers wanted to smooth your brow with a kiss as it furrowed while you flipped through your proposal, and how his heart felt whole from the moment you walked in the room. And he knew he would be littered with your marks all his life, more permanent than ink — and he would never be able rid himself of them.
Or of you.
When Yaga had come to him with the news, it was already too much to handle. He was being re-assigned to Tokyo to handle duties for both schools for a time — until someone stepped up to handle Kyoto. Yaga didn’t trust anyone else — and since Suguru had worked at Tokyo longer, it made sense to have him go back.
But then the question of you — the reminder came on the form of your email during their meeting — and you came into his world again the same way you did before — an email for a meeting. But it wasn’t for him.
Not yet at least.
It was hard to know what to do, or what you would want. Yaga could have you re-assigned, but the thesis you were working on was in Suguru’s specialty and he knew half the reason you had asked Yaga was to have a department head listed on your thesis. And to rob you of that wasn’t a choice he wanted to make for you.
He’s done enough of that to you. And he had done it for your future — and he would do this for your future, if you wanted him to.
You’re speechless when he breaks the news to you — as he expected you would be. But his surprise comes when you reply — he expected anger, frustration, a straight out refusal to work with him — but he did not get any of those — he only got quiet acceptance.
“Fine, should we stick to the same schedule that Yaga and I agreed to?” And Suguru takes a minute, leaning back in his chair, “what?”
“I just…I didn’t expect you to accept so readily,” he replies softly, choosing his words carefully, “in my email, I said you could take time to think about it or we could procure a different advisor—“
“Professor,” the word sticks in his chest like a right dagger that barely misses his heart, “out of everyone who works in this department I know you are the only one who is capable of pushing me to be my best, even when I don’t ask for it,” you add under your breath, “especially when I don’t ask for it,”
A hollow chuckle is stuck in his throat, “If you’re sure, it’s your choice,” and he’s looking for a few notes and edits he had written out for you for the schedule you sent along previously.
“It is my choice,” you echo, your eyes meet his, as he looks up from the papers strewn about the desk, “and I choose this,” and he knows all too well what you mean by your deliberate choice of words— and he did love you for your cutting tongue.
Even when it was used against him.
“If you do, then can you choose to come to my old office?” And you’re blinking, brow furrowing — and his cheeks burn, “I left your schedule there — I had a few notes regarding my own schedule,”
You raise an eyebrow, a flicker of a smart remark on the tip of your tongue that you seemingly swallow, as you gather the proposal into your bag, “let’s go,”
The walk over is in relative silence, the campus mostly quiet with the impending end of the semester at bay — as he forces his gaze forward, but that doesn’t stop his traitorous eyes from sneaking glances all the same. Why was it that he was a lighthouse and his eyes were spotlights only made to find your ship on the dark waves of the sea.
And you stop in your tracks, a glance at your face doesn’t give him the answer — but another face does.
“Yuta?” And he’s holding your lunch bag — the same one you insisted on taking with you, refusing to spend more money on the overpriced lunch on campus. And the realization hits him all at once, and he’s suddenly toppling headfirst into the waves.
“You forgot your lunch,” Yuta offers an awkward smile — and Suguru’s eyes find your face again, right before he goes under — the same soft look you gave him.
Used to give him.
And he lets the water overtake him.
~~~
“You forgot your lunch,”
And you never thought a rushed morning would lead to the most awkward moment of your life. Yuta glances between you and Suguru, as you step forward to take your lunch from his hand, your fingers intertwining with his, as if to ground yourself.
“Yuta, this is Professor Geto, he taught one of the classes I took and he’s taking over as my thesis advisor,” and you’re only lucky Suguru is able to tuck away emotions so easily, a polite smile on his lips as he offers his hand to Yuta, “this is Yuta, my boyfriend,”
You can’t meet Suguru’s gaze as you say it — but you wonder what you would find — hurt, anger, or nothing at all? And you couldn’t figure out which would hurt the most.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Suguru says, before shaking his hand, and Yuta nods.
“Likewise,” and Suguru turns to you, hands slipping into his pockets, while yours remained laced with Yuta’s — but how long ago would it had been intertwined in his? “On second thought, I’ll email you my edits to your thesis schedule, I’ll leave you both to the rest of your day,” he gives a stiff smile, before heading on his way.
And he knew this was a future of his own making — the consequences of his own actions.
He gives a bitter chuckle. Consequentialism — the morality is centered around creating the right consequences — and wasn’t it right? Right for you to be happy with someone your age? Right to be with someone who you can hold their hand and be with? Right to be with someone who can give you everything and anything you want?
“I understand the intention of consequentialism, but it just feels so pointless,” you had said while the two of you sat watching TV on the couch, your legs thrown over his lap, the comfortable warmth of your head resting on his shoulder.
“That’s not where I thought your mind was,” Suguru had chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead, but still he indulged, “the point is to get as much good as possible out of a decision correct? The most happiness?”
Your brow remained furrowed, “But the problem is the cost of it — it can come at the cost of your own happiness if it’s creating the right consequences,”
“That’s more utilitarianism—“ and you shrug.
“I understand it’s more complicated, but I don’t see the value in making decisions like that — doesn’t it defeat the purpose because you’re doing it for the outcome — without considering your feelings or the others? You’re nothing more than a happiness pump,”
And as he sneaks a glance back, watching you and Yuta stand there still, fingers still intertwined, his fingers squeeze the handle of his bag, is that why it feels so wrong?
He arrived back at his office, fingers turning the knob and finding an empty tomb — the walls stripped down to the bare, a thick layer of dust that clung to the surfaces, the couch he had in the corner of the room likely relocated to another office — that he thought he had finally left behind. But here he was again — right back where he started.
He dragged his finger through the dust on his desk. Was he nothing more than a happiness pump? Giving himself pain for the sake of others’ happiness — and was the outcome worth it? But he’s swallowing down his pain — a bitter consequence he had to take — because he knew — he would take any pain, if it meant you were happy.
And you were.
Right?
~~~
Yuta knew — he did even before he had started to date you. Or rather, he had suspected. But now he knew.
The first time he saw the two of you bump into each other, he knew because of the way Geto looked at you — and even the way you looked at him — the hurt flickering in your gaze, even when you refused to look at him.
Professor Geto has been much more than a professor to you — he was your boyfriend, the same one Yuta had envied for so many months. Only for him to be back in your life again. And he felt like he was right back to where he had started in your life again — a friend.
And there wasn’t a thing wrong with being your friend — but now that he was more than one, he knew he only wanted even more of you — and to give more of himself. If you would let him.
But when your fingers curled around his, ‘boyfriend’ slipping from your lips, assuaged his anxiety for a moment, but as he watched your eyes find the back of Geto’s head after he left, it all came back.
Your fingers squeeze his, “Thank you for bringing my lunch, Yu,” and it brings him back to the moment, and your face is so readable in this moment — as if to make up for the times he couldn’t make sense of you — searching for an indication that he knew, an implication of his emotions, a question unspoken to ask if he knew.
And he did.
“Of course, baby,” he presses a kiss to your forehead, and he wants to tell you he does, wants to ask you why you hid it, why you felt you couldn’t be honest, and why you look like you’re still as heartbroken as the day he ran into you outside this building, “I have to go, but I’ll see you later,” but he doesn’t ask.
“Yuta—“ but he’s only pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, fingers cupping his cheek.
“I love you,” and your lips curl into a small smile.
“I love you too,” and it was enough, he thought, as his fingers parted from yours, and he turned to leave.
It was enough, for now.
~~~
How do you tell someone something they already know? You snuck glances at your own boyfriend after dinner, as the two of you settled in to watch something to unwind. The day had gone by as expected, but the crawling anxiety only grew as more time passed, the words wanting nothing more than to leave your mouth.
Why was it you when you had so much to say you couldn’t say it? And now when you had to explain, no words could leave your lips?
God, how the fuck did you catch yourself in this mess? Your ex as your thesis advisor — was this karma for being unethical? A cruel consequence of the choices you made? Maybe fate? No, it wasn’t fate. Things were better without Suguru in your life, simpler and easier. And you were happy — but now this, this just had the potential to ruin everything.
But only if you let it.
And the longer you went without discussing this, the more damage it would be. It was a secret you had chosen to keep — you didn’t think it was pertinent, especially with Suguru in Kyoto. It was a detail you could spare, at least until after you graduated,
But now it couldn’t wait.
It was a piano hanging by a string that’s already snapped and it was on its last fibers, swinging back and forth, waiting to see whether you would push Yuta and yourself out of the way — or whether one or both of you would get crushed in the process.
The walk back to your apartment is an exercise in coping mechanisms to prevent panic or anxiety from settling fully into your skin, holding the string together with your arms seemingly, ready for it to tear you apart.
But it doesn’t.
“I have to talk to you,” you say once you and Yuta are sitting on the couch, one leg tucked under the other to prevent you from shaking it, or running away for that matter, “it’s nothing bad — well, I mean it’s not—“ you cut yourself off, shaking your head, “just know I love you, and that hasn’t changed—“
And his lips find yours, cutting off your frantic thoughts with a sweet kiss that only leaves you wanting more, but also leaves you with more questions than answers.
He pulls away, a small smile on his lips, “Breath “ and you sigh, taking a breath, “and I love you too,” your fingers interlace with his, “what is it?”
But you don’t even know where to begin, except at the point, “You know the ex that broke my heart before we dated?” And he’s nodding, “Professor Geto is—“
“Is your ex,” he finishes, and you knew he had figured out, but you hadn’t expected it to come out so matter-of-factly, “I had a feeling and this morning confirmed it,”
“I’m sorry,” you shake your head, “after he moved, I never thought he would move back, much less become my thesis advisor,” you bury your face in your hands, “and I don’t want you to think I was hiding it. It’s just with the relationship being taboo, I didn’t think—“
“You were trying to protect yourself and your ex, it’s understandable,” he squeezes your hand, “you couldn’t have expected this to happen,”
And you’re lifting your gaze to his, “How are you so calm? How are you so…okay?”
He gives a sigh, “it’s hard, I’m trying to stay rational for you — for us,” you lean against him, “what are you going to do? About your thesis?”
“I think I’ll have to take Suguru as my advisor. I don’t have much of a choice,” you bite your lip, “I could take another, but no other professor has the same specialization as Yaga, except Geto, and I know he’ll give me good feedback,”
“But?” You rest your head in your hand.
“But having to spend that much time with my ex? Having to work on something so important to my career with him? Having to put you through that?” you feel more lost than when you began this conversation, “I don’t know what to do. I already agreed to it, but I think it’s only sinking in,” and you turn to him, “and then there’s you,”
“What about me?” and you shake your head.
“How can I put you through watching me spending hours with my ex over the next semester?” And Yuta shakes your head.
“A decision important to your future shouldn’t just be based on me, it should be about you,” and you purse your lips — another reason why Yuta was so sweet, as you lean against him, burying your face in the crook of his neck.
“I don’t deserve you,” he chuckles, running his fingers through your hair, “I’ll keep him as my advisor for now, but if you have a problem, please talk to me okay?” You lean back to look at him, “please?”
“Of course,” and his lips find yours in a sweet kiss, “and you always deserve me — because I chose you.” You kissed him, his arms curling around you, as you leaned into his touch — the one place that always felt safe.
And you didn’t know that he just hoped — you’d choose him too.
~~~
Fuck. How was it you found yourself before Professor Geto’s door yet again?
Winter break had flown by and now you found yourself back in the office you thought you had left behind not so long ago. Even if it felt like forever. You had spent your time split between working on your thesis, with the edits to your outline that Suguru had provided you, and with Yuta — who was more endlessly understanding than you could have hoped to imagine. And even today, as you headed off to meet Suguru in his office, he had nothing but soothing words for your nerves, sweet kisses, and a promise for a good meal when you got home.
You hovered before the door of his office — no matter what had happened throughout these months, why did it always feel as if you always ended up here? Pulled against your will into a rotation around him — one that would have you stuck into a constant push and pull — and just when you had let go of his grip, you were pulled back in. And as your fist hovered next to the door, bracing to knock, you weren’t sure if you were ready to fall back in.
But what you didn’t know as you stood before the door was that the man behind it was more anxious about this meeting than you were.
~~~
“You’re early,” Suguru glances up from his paperwork, his top of his pen pressed to the seam of his lips, “for once,”
Suguru himself had nearly been late this morning — ever the hypocrite, he supposed. He could barely sleep the night before, spent catching up on the work piled up for two department heads while the Kyoto campus makes potential temporary candidates jump through hoops. And then there was the other reason, his meeting with you — and all the complicated feelings he didn’t wish to entangle himself in. And yet he always fell deeper into your web, as if he didn’t willingly ensnare himself to begin with.
He didn’t even know Yaga was sick, but he had seen the change in him. The subtle differences in his demeanor, the bags around his eyes, and the creeping slowness that came with illness. But it still hit like a gut punch to hear it from his mouth, and for him to ask to take over duties for him was a double edged blade of honor and complication.
Yaga had given him the option to turn it down: to keep managing everything from Kyoto — but he accepted anyway — accepted because he knew that you’d be out of a thesis advisor. And he would be left unable to help from Kyoto with the in person role an advisor played.
And so he was here.
When he finally had gotten to lay down, eyes fixed on the familiar ceiling fan again — as he had managed to get his old apartment back by some miracle — and he hates how this place is a husk of itself without you here. But even with you here before him, his eyes snuck at glance at you, it somehow was worse being with you — when he was nothing to you. He could bear to not be your lover, but he couldn’t bear the weight of your hatred, or worse, your indifference.
You cross your arms, your laptop bag draped on your shoulder, “You’ll never let that go until one of us is dead will you?”
“That’s assuming we wouldn’t haunt the other,” he replies without missing a beat, as you take a seat across from him, eyes taking in his office. The same set up from before, if not a little less ostentatious and obnoxious — a few missing pictures and awards tucked away, the missing luxury sofa, and the lack of leather bound books lining shelves, instead minimally decorated with a few select titles — including What Do We Owe Each Other, prominently displayed.
“I have better things to do than haunt you,” you scoff, pulling out your laptop from your bag, “did you forget to finish unpacking?” And he doesn’t offer even a look up at your remark.
“No, just decided to take a certain person’s advice and try to take a less pretentious approach to my office,” his lips curled in that damnable wry smile of his, “plus not everything has been sent back from Kyoto yet,” and he leans forward, plucking your revised thesis outline from the neat piles lined up on his desk, “but my office decor isn’t why we’re here,” he flips through his notes on your draft, “the outline is in good shape, have you started on your draft?”
You pull a stapled stack out to slide to him, “I have fleshed out some of my main points and I wanted your thoughts before I dove further,” and he takes it before scanning through it, silent as he peruses the contents.
His eyes flit up, “You didn’t have to wait for my approval—“
“I know, but I value your opinion,” you grumble, eyes averted as you admit it, a graze of your teeth against the bottom of your lip. It draws a small smile from him, hidden away behind his closed fist pressed to his lips, “as my advisor,” you add, and he nods.
The meeting finished up with much else, as you slide your laptop and things back into your bag. And for the first time your eyes meet his.
“Have you been sleeping okay?” and he’s blinking a moment, as you continue, “you look tired. You should sleep more instead of working,”
He furrows his brow, “I am slee—“
“You have bags under your eyes, Professor,” you roll your eyes, “listen or don’t, but I rather my thesis isn’t re-assigned last minute because you ran yourself into the ground,” you say before turning to leave.
“I expect your next draft by the beginning of the next week,” and you pause, the click of the knob as you pull the door open.
“I’ll have it to you by the end of the week.” And you’re gone, door shutting behind you, and he leans back in his chair, a smile that he can’t quite hide on his lips.
Maybe he wasn’t quite nothing to you after all.
~~~
“I’m home, baby,” you say, as you walk in, the burden of the day still in the process of sliding off your back as you passed through the threshold of your apartment. You stripped yourself of your cost and your shoes, hanging your bag up, “Yu?”
You checked your phone with no text or call from him — he said he would be at your place, and that’s when you spot a familiar mop of black hair from the couch. Your lips curl as you round the couch, only to find him fast asleep, his work spread out around him. His first day back seemed as stressful as yours, and yet he hadn’t complained.
His bags were dark — a product of a bad night’s sleep — a running trend for today seemingly. You ran your fingers through his hair gently, knowing he wouldn’t wake simply by that, but you heard the quiet mumble of words you couldn’t catch. You glanced at the kitchen and found dinner prepped but not made. You smile softly, as you take the throw blanket and gently spread it over him, before pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, and then rising to your feet.
You’re almost done cooking curry when Yuta stirs, the smell of the stewing beef and spices waking him, as he lifts his head, back of his hand rubbing his eye, while he glances at you with the other.
“Hey sleeping beauty,” your lips curl, doing a bad job of stifling your chuckle at the sight of his black hair askew, “dinner is almost ready,”
“Dinner? When did you get—“ and he picks up his phone to check the time, a small groan stuck in his throat, “why didn’t you wake me when you got home?”
“I would have,” you wipe off your hands, as you make your way to the living room, as Yuta swings his legs off the couch, scrubbing a hand down his face, “but you’re so cute when you’re sleeping,” and his cheeks flush an ever so subtle pink — even after this time together, it was so easy to fluster him, “plus, it looked like you needed it,”
Your hand brushes his cheek, and he’s leaning into your touch, your other hand running fingers through his hair to straighten it out, “I did,” he mumbles, “it was a long day,”
“Want to talk about it over some rice and curry?” and he bites his lip, before he leans in to press a sweet kiss to you, delighting in the desperate look he gives you when you drag your tongue teasingly against the seam of his lips only to pull away, “don’t pout,” you drag your thumb down his lips, “I’ll kiss you plenty after dinner,”
“Promise?” And you drag him to his feet and he’s walking to the bathroom as you’re opening cabinets to take plates out, only for his arms to wrap around your middle, pressing his face into the crook of your neck.
You chuckle, biting back the shiver that runs up your spine at the warmth of his touch, “what’s that for?”
“Thank you,” he murmurs, meeting your gaze with umbra eyes that has you lost in the only inky black sky you craved.
“Of course, Yu,” you murmur before his lips find yours again, and you just wished you could live in this moment, as he parted from your lips only to press another kiss to your cheek, but you supposed you could—
—For now at least.
“She’s what?” Maki stares at Yuta as he rubs the back of his head, her words nearly ringing out in the empty conference room, “she’s spending a bunch of time with her ex and you’re ok with it?”
Yuta has made a mistake — the mistake of being twenty minutes early to this student government meeting only to find Maki here alone, scrolling on her phone. Her eyes flitting up only for her to tilt her head and bark:
“Oi, what is it now?” And Yuta didn’t know if he liked being so seen by her.
Especially now that he was being judged for his decisions — or rather, raked over the coals for them.
Yuta purses his lips, “I’m not exactly okay with it, but I don’t know what to do. She has to work on her project with him — I guess, how could I object?” And how could he? Your omission made sense, you were only trying to protect your reputation— and your ex’s by extension. But it didn’t make it sting any less.
“Doesn’t she have another choice? Couldn’t she work with someone else?” Maki crosses her arms, eyes narrowed, as if she can detect the holes in his lies by pure reflex, “aren’t you worried she’ll go back to him?” And voices every worry almost if she’s ripped it from his mind itself.
“I am, she does have other choices, but I couldn’t be the one to make her choices for her—“
“But you couldn’t tell her how you felt about it?” Maki shakes her head, pinching the bridge of her nose as if this conversation is giving her a headache — or more likely, he’s giving her a headache, “how do you feel?”
Yuta chews his lip, leaning on his arm on the table, “I don’t know, I understand it’s just a project — it’s something for her future — I don’t want to make things more complicated for us,” he mumbles.
“You mean for her—and for your relationship,” Maki crosses her arms, tilting her head, “Yuta, if you can’t be honest with her, what’s the point of this relationship?” And people start to file into the room for the meeting, so she hisses in a whisper, “you need to figure out what you want — and how to tell her how you’re feeling because it’s going to eat you alive or drive her into her ex’s arms — either way, you won’t be in this relationship,”
And on that bleak note, she gets to her feet to corral everyone into their seats, leaving him to simmer in her words. His phone lighting up nearly on cue with a text from you—
Can’t make the meeting this week, babe — Geto rescheduled my meeting with him this week for now, so I’m headed there
A hint of irritation pricks at him — it had to be today, during the only time that they had together at school?
Another message comes through.
I’ll see you at your place after the meeting - love you 💕
He locks his phone, tucking it away in his pocket — as Maki starts the meeting.
It was fine — he would see you at home. It didn’t matter — Geto had only these meetings, Yuta had much more of you. It was fine.
He forced his gaze forward, a gnawing dread in his stomach. Right?
“What do you mean it was expected?”
You were starting to remember the reason why you hated this man so vehemently when you first met him. His nearly smug expression made you want to leap across the desk and strangle him — though you knew the consequences of that action wouldn’t turn out well for you — nor the proximity for that matter, “what I wrote—“
“Is what others have written in papers time and time again,” he cuts you off, and you slump back in your chair, as you flip through the red inked comments he had so thoughtfully ripped apart your first few pages — the precise cuts and slashes enough for red ink to look like blood, “your thesis needs to be a unique take—”
“And now it isn’t unique enough?” you grumble, crossing your arms, as your cheeks burn, “soon you’ll be saying I’m rambling again,”
“No, I was able to rid you of that habit a while ago,” you glare at him, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips, “I would be concerned if you started to regress,”
“Well, at least it would only be academically,” the words spit like venom from your mouth without a thought, but the hurt that flickers across his face is one that seemingly has too much thought behind it, “sorry, that was inappropriate,”
“It’s fine,” the hurt is gone from his expression, as unreadable as it always was, “to get back to our discussion, I know you want this paper to be published by journals, and in order to do that, you need to have a perspective that hasn’t been explored before—at least not fully. Your outline reflects that, but your paper is regurgitating ideas that you’ve read,” he’s handing you a list of papers and books, with some noted passages, “read some of these materials, it might help give you some ideas to rework your paper,” and then he adds, “and you knew I’d say this,”
You knit your brow together, “What?”
He leans against his arm propped against the top of his desk, “Why else would you want me to see if you were going in the right direction? You always have an idea what you want to write, of where you want your paper to go — and you never wanted my greenlight for a long time now,”
You hate how he can still see right through you — you hate how easily he can pinpoint your problem without you uttering a helpful word. Even before, it always felt as if he was the only one who saw you, without you having to explain a single thing.
“You’re right,” and he hated how right he was, “I wasn’t sure where I was going,” this thesis had been weighing on your mind day and night, pricking at your nerves each time you stared at the blinking cursor of the document, “I still don’t,”
Suguru murmurs your name softly, his gaze as gentle as it always has been for you, a part of you hoped — only for you, “As I’ve always said, the only reason why I push you is because I know you can do more. This thesis would be outstanding for many scholars, but I know you can do more,” he tilts his head, small smile on his lips, “and I know you still can,”
“What if I can’t?” The question slips out before you can even think it, and he raises an eyebrow.
“There is no ‘what if,’ I know you can do it,” and you bite your lip, “i don’t have any doubts,”
“Not even one?” You reply, an eyebrow quirked.
“Not when it comes to you,” and he said just what you wanted to hear, but you hated it all the more — because how did he know you so well? How did he know you so well and yet not know to talk to you before breaking your heart?
But it didn’t matter now. And you couldn’t trudge up these feelings now, or maybe ever.
“I’ll read these materials and rework it,” and you begin to collect your things all the while, getting to your feet.
“Good,” and you catch sight of his smile in the reflection of your phone, “it’s what you owe yourself.”
And your eyes meet his for a moment, so why couldn’t he give you what he owed you before?
“Thank you, Professor.”
“I’m back,” you call out in Yuta’s apartment, tucking your keys away into your bag, as you slip your shoes off and shrugging off your jacket, but you hear nothing in response, “Yuta?” But not a sound — no quiet voices of the TV, the clatter of dishes and utensils in the kitchen, and no sign of him in the bedroom either.
You check your phone, as you sit on the edge of the bed, creaking under your weight, and you see his text: sorry baby, Maki took the group out for dinner after, you’re free to join us. And the address is sent underneath.
But the text was well over twenty minutes ago, and it would take you longer to get there — which meant dinner would nearly be over. You laid back on his bed on your side, typing a reply.
Sorry Yu, just saw this :(. I’ll come next time. I’ll make something up fast and probably lie down. I’ll see you at home.
You curl up on the bed, placing your phone down with a sigh, eyes fluttering shut. Your nose turned into his sheets, Yuta’s scent flooding your senses, and you could nearly feel his arms around you. Almost.
God, you missed him — especially you two just kept missing each other like this — and it made it all the more important you stayed awake.
Your eyes flutter open, the sweet siren of sleep growing all the more tempting, a late lunch sitting like stones in your stomach and the need for the sandman’s relief growing headier.
And before you knew it, your legs were tucked under the comforter and your eyes succumbed to their own weight.
Your soft breaths filled the silence of the apartment, and even as Yuta came in an hour or so later, only to find you sprawled out messily in his bed, phone still in your hand, did he chuckle. His hands are gentle as he guides you into a normal position for sleep that wouldn’t fuck over your back, putting your phone on charge, and pressing a kiss to your forehead.
And as he leaves the room to shower, not hearing the quiet murmur of his name leaving your lips.
“You have to try a little,” you’re nearly waving your ice cream cone in front of Yuta’s face, soft serve dripping onto the pavement, and the soft pink swirl threatening to topple over in front of your eyes, but the risk of losing your beloved ice cream was not as important as advocating for it, “c’mon it’s so good—”
“Baby, the ice cream is supposed to be your treat for all the progress you’ve made on your thesis, not a taste test, and I have my own flavor—” but as the ice cream hovers in front of his face, Yuta tastes it — the subtle sakura flavor lingering on his tongue, “it’s good,” he concedes, “but not as good as my matcha,”
It had been a lot to tear you away from your work — it had been weeks in the making of trying to get you to take a break that wasn’t you falling asleep on the couch with your laptop and notes strewn about or a mindless TV break. And the times you both were supposed to have together often ended with one of you being busy or falling asleep. He barely remembered the last time the two of you had spent together that didn’t involve takeout or the couch.
You pout, “Sakura is so much better,” you grumble, licking at your ice cream, trying to stem the excess melting off the sides of your waffle cone, and he chuckles, as a little of your ice cream sticks to your nose.
“More for you then right?” he’s pulling a tissue out to wipe your nose and lips before kissing them, “Mm, it’s sweeter on your lips,” and he knows your cheeks are burning as you avert your eyes, biting your lip.
“You’re the worst,” and he laughs, as he wraps his arm around your middle, “but I’ll say you’re right about today. This date was definitely needed,” you lean into his touch, still working on your ice cream, “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy,”
“You don’t have to apologize, it’s not just you that’s busy—”
“I know, but it’s mostly been me,” your eyes find his, and he wavers under your glance, “I know we haven’t had a lot of time together, and I promise, it’s only going to last a little longer, once I’m done with my thesis I’m all yours,”
And it’s hard for him to believe that — but he tries, because he knows you are.
“I know,” he presses a kiss to your forehead, “I’m just glad we got to do this today, I just feel like we keep missing each other, and it just…it’s been bothering me,”
And you kiss his jaw, before softly smiling, “You’re not alone,” and his lips find yours again, and again, ice cream starting to run down his fingers and palm, but he could care less about anything else but you at this moment, “You’re gonna make me drop my ice cream,”
“I’ll buy you another,” and you laugh, kissing him this time, and he melts just like the ice cream into your grasp, your arms wrapped around him tight, “now who’s making our ice cream melt?”
“You said you’d buy me another anyway,” you nuzzle his neck, “plus I have to leave space to eat you up later,” and you giggle as his cheeks burn, “you blush so easily still, thought you would be used to my teasing by now,”
“Don’t think I’ll ever get used to it, still feels like a dream,” you pinch his cheek in reply, a smirk on your lips, as you kiss the skin that you pinched.
“Now, it’s not a dream, is it?” And right as your lips were about to meet his again—
RING. RING. RING.
Your brow furrows as you ignore it at first, before a sigh catches in your throat, “hold on—“ you check your messages, your brow furrowing, “fuck,” you swear under your breath.
“What’s wrong?” And you’re tossing your ice cream in a nearby trash can, wiping your hand with one of the tissues the ice cream place had handed you, before texting back.
“Geto wants to meet today about my thesis. Apparently some departmental meetings got pushed around, and today is the only day he can meet in person—“
“Do you have to—“ and you’re shaking your head in exasperation, burying your face in your hands.
“I have no choice. It’s the only time until a week and half from now, and I can’t wait to get this feedback, otherwise it will throw off my entire schedule—“
“But this is the only time we can meet,” he cuts you off, voice catching on the words, as his tongue is caught between holding it and wagging it, “I miss you, baby, we haven’t seen each other in weeks because of our schedules, because of your thesis—“ because of him, “when will our relationship take priority? When will I be important enough to matter?”
“Yuta,” your voice breaks, “of course you matter to me—“ and your phone vibrates again, cutting you off, and he takes a beat and a breath. He swallows thickly, this wasn’t the right time for this.
But when would it be?
“Go,” he says, and your eyebrows knit together, lips parting to refuse, “I’m okay, really. We’ll talk when you get home,” but he’s stepping towards you, as he presses a kiss to your forehead, “promise, we’re ok. Just go. I’ll call you.”
“You sure?” He wasn’t. He wasn’t sure if he should let you go or stand his ground — but, his fingers cupped your cheek, and kissed your lips — but he was sure that he loved you.
“I’m sure,” and he wanted what was best for you — and he watches you leave after you say your farewells — even if it wasn’t best for him.
You shouldn’t have agreed to this.
Agreed to take this meeting over your date. Agreed to meet in the lecture hall instead of his office. Agreed to have him as your thesis advisor. Agreed to even take a course with him to begin with. You were several steps too close to regret being born, but your real mistake was ever pursuing this man to begin with.
That was your mistake — and now you are reaping what you sow.
Literally.
“Your lecture was compelling — I have so much to learn from you,” you stood outside his lecture hall as students filed out quicker than usual, without the typical quorum that formed after every one of his classes — only to find the reason that a single person commanded his attention, “I didn’t realize how wonderfully interesting philosophy could be as a topic,” her voice already grates on your ears, the elongated syllables of her words nearly enough for you to roll your eyes into the back of your head so far that you were they would get stuck.
“It’s a fine line between interesting and dry, I’m glad I could walk it for you, Mei Mei,” and you could hear the smile in his tone, the saccharine sweetness enough for you to choke on and die of excess sugar, but unfortunately you don’t, so you have to hear the rest of this conversation.
“I’m so glad I took Satoru’s advice to see your lecture, it was definitely eye opening,” and you furrow your brow, “he’s been asking me about you — he told me if I stopped by to have you call him,”
You purse your lips — Satoru?
A sigh in his voice as he speaks “He sent a real messenger this time? I get his texts, I have been really busy with my duties—“
“You know what they say — about all work and no play?” You hear the click of heels against the floor, as she assuredly steps closer, “maybe I can help you with the play—“
You knock on the door then, hand possessed, as you spot the woman with whom the voice belonged — her long silver locks tied into a braid that hung past her shoulders, her dark eyes finding yours and brow arched in curiosity, and wine stained lips curled.
“Professor, I’m sorry to interrupt, but our meeting?” Your voice was laced with irritation you didn't intend to have, “I have a class after this, so unless you’d like to reschedule?”
Suguru’s lips part, only for Mei Mei to speak first, “I’m sorry about that — that’s my fault — old friends you know?” Her head tilts, as if to say, no, I know you don’t know, “and you are one of Suguru’s little students?”
“I’m his former T.A. and he is my thesis advisor,” and his girlfriend, you want to add — ex girlfriend, rather, but the words are as taboo as your feelings are, “I’m sure Professor Geto wouldn’t mind speaking to you after our meeting if you could wait,”
And again Suguru opens his mouth to speak, but she cuts him off again, “Oh I wouldn’t mind waiting at all, not for him,” she walks past, “I’ll wait for you in your office, Suguru,” and you have to force your expression to be neutral, a knot in your gut, and a fist clenched and hidden around the handle of your bag, “I’ll make myself comfortable,”
The lecture hall door closes behind her, the click of the door brings silence between the two of you, “I apologize if—“
“No, I should be sorry for interrupting,” you cut him off, your throat tied into knots, a distinct dull ache in your chest that surely shouldn’t belong to you — not after all of this, “I should have just rescheduled—“
“No, I’m glad you interrupted,” he says, “we have an appointment and she really is only a—“
“You don’t owe me an explanation, Professor,” and the title seems to cut this time, slicing through his mask, fraying his calm demeanor and leaving behind a deep frown, “it’s your business, not mine,” not anymore.
His mouth opens and close, before he speaks, “Maybe not as a professor,” he says softly, taking a step forward, “but I think I do as your—“
“I’m not ‘your’ anything—“ you interrupt him, taking a step back, “I’m only a student, and your advisee, nothing else, Professor Geto,” you’re turning to leave, “let’s reschedule after all, I have somewhere to be,”
You had to be somewhere that wasn’t here — here with dredged up emotions that had no right belonging to you. Ones that you thought you had moved past, ones that shouldn’t hurt you the way they do now, and ones that you don’t know how to stop from spilling from your lips.
“You’re not just—“
“Did you hear that she would wait for you?” you don’t turn to look back at him, “I wish you could have done the same,” you give him a second, one second longer than he gave you when he broke up with you, to reply, but he says nothing, “I’ll email you a few times to meet next week, just send me any edits you have on my pages.”
The door clicks behind you as you leave the classroom behind, wondering if you had ever rid yourself of your feelings, or if you had simply buried it—
And now, you are starting to unearth it — and your world may crumble underneath you along with it.
There was something wrong with him.
But there always was — when it came to you.
Suguru stared at the email you had sent later that week, opting to skip the in person meeting again for the third week in a row. The semester was over half over — and now the other department head had started in Kyoto, so he had a little more free time — and yet he couldn’t use it to help you, at least not really.
Your thesis was shaping up — you were on the right track now, and he knew your paper would need little edits before being submitted for peer review. And when it did, a journal would be lucky to publish it. By that standard, he could take a more hands off approach — but he never wanted to be hands off, not with you.
He wanted nothing more than to take you into his arms, fingers trace the curve of your cheek as he’s done countless times before, and press a kiss to those lips that consume his consciousness.
But he couldn’t.
Not when he was the one who had broken your heart, when you had managed to piece it back together, and when you had found happiness with someone else.
Something he wasn’t sure he could ever do.
Mei Mei was an unforeseen complication — a donor that made some generous investments in the university — trivial with the amount of wealth she possessed, mostly due to Satoru’s convincing. And Satoru was the reason she had decided to sit in on his class — and he was stuck entertaining her, while his best friend was away on his sabbatical. And he couldn’t resist an opportunity to fuck with him while he was away — his apparent revenge after Suguru had avoided his texts.
And your reaction was—not what he expected. He pursed his lips, you were jealous right? That’s what you seemed to imply with your words — as if Mei Mei was a friend he would be interested in. The pot calling the kettle black — when you were the one to move on first. A sigh caught in his throat, not that he had any right to complain. Not when it was his fault.
But when the only person he was truly in love with was in front of him — the pain in your gaze as fresh as it was the day he had broken up with you — it was hard to hold back, especially when he wanted nothing more than to—
And then there was a knock at his door, “it’s me,” your voice came through the wood, his eyes sliding to the time, it was late into the evening, “can I come in?”
“Yes, come in,”
“I apologize, I just had a few questions I wasn’t able to ask over email, and since I was on campus, I thought—“
He shakes his head, your rambles still as endearing as they always were — though you had kicked the habit in your papers, you couldn’t help but ramble in the way you spoke, “No need to explain, what can I help you with?”
You lean back, hands folded in your lap, “Do you remember when we discussed the concept of a happiness pump as a criticism of utilitarianism?”
“Yes, in class, we discussed it — the idea of someone who will do anything to make others happy, even if it makes them miserable,” he tilts his head, as he leans back in his chair, eyes betraying him as he watches your dress ride up ever so slightly as you cross your legs — he forces his gaze to your face, “do you plan on using it in your thesis—“
Your eyes could cut stone with its biting glare, “No, I don’t, I wanted to talk about it in context of why you broke up with me — do you plan on being a happiness pump for the rest of your life? Or is that simply for me?”
His mind moves slowly as his words do, “what—“
“Because it’s only for me, it’s flattering — if it’s what you do for everyone, well, it’s just exhausting,” you scoff, twirling a strand of your hair with your finger, “especially when your idea of what will make others happy is so misled,”
“And how’s that?” He says through gritted teeth.
And you’re rising from your chair, “You think my happiness means to make yourself miserable, when it does nothing more than make me unhappy,” you’re rounding the desk, fingertips dragging over the edge of the surface, “do you want to spend the rest of your life miserable? Do you think that girlfriend of yours will make you happy?”
“She’s not—“ and your heels clicking against the wood cuts him off.
And you’re only drawing closer and closer, and he can’t bring himself to speak — words caught in his throat because he knew anything he uttered would break this spell, and he wanted nothing more than to succumb, “pumped full of unhappiness when it could very well be the opposite—“ and your hand is sliding up his chest, toying with the top buttons of his button-up, lips ghosting his ear as you whisper, “when you know I know exactly how to pump you, don’t I?”
“Sweetheart, please, we can’t—“ and your fingers finding the buckle of his belt, a gasp lodged in his throat, as your hand grazes his tenting bulge, twitching against your thumb as it runs over the clothed tip, “fuck—“
“We could be so happy, like before,” your lips brush against his, and he crumbles under your touch — his resistance crumbles like a statue made to wait, and god, he’s waited so long for this — too long.
His lips find yours in a bruising kiss, the way he’s wanted to since he had watched you leave that day — the way he should have, the way he should have grabbed your hand and stopped you, pulled you into his arms, and never let you go.
And he never would again.
BUZZ. BUZZ. BUZZ.
Suguru jolts awake at the sound of his phone, a paper stuck to his face, drool sticky at the corner of his mouth. He tugs the paper away, rubbing his eyes, as his heart slowly retracts from his throat.
A dream. He runs his fingers through his hair, leaning back in his chair, what the fuck was he doing? Sleeping at his desk again accompanied by wet dreams of you — he thought he had grown from this. But you always sent him right back where he started, his eyes falling to the bulge in his pants. He ignores it, gathering his things and tracing the edge of his desk as he rounded it to leave his office. He took a look over his shoulder at his office that he spent so much time with, he was sure of one thing — he flicked off the light — you would be the one to haunt him.
For the rest of his days.
“Baby, aren’t you gonna get up now?” Yuta murmurs in your ear, pressing sweet kisses to the skin behind it, fingers resting against the nape of your neck, “you said you have to practice for your thesis presentation,”
You mumbled, burying your face in his neck, as the two of you lie entangled on the couch for your mid afternoon Saturday nap, “a few more minutes,”
The semester had been going by far too quick, days slipping into weeks, and now there was just over a month left in the semester. And soon you’d be graduating — his fingers raked gently through your hair — and he didn’t exactly know what that meant for the two of you.
He still has a year left in his program, and you were going to be moving on — though you weren’t sure exactly where. And he would be here — but what then? Would it be a long distance relationship ? Would you look for opportunities here? Or would it be something else?
He didn’t want to think about other possibilities.
So many of his friends had warned him not to date while in grad school — that it would only end in heartbreak, and the more significant fact that it would always end. Your face nuzzled into his neck, warm breath still warming his skin, as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head — and he never wanted to be apart, not from you.
“Baby,” you mumble, “what time is it?” And he can’t help but smile at you, as he reaches for his phone.
“It’s almost four-thirty,” and you groan softly, wrapping your arms around him tighter, “you still have time before you have to go practice don’t you?”
“No, I reserved the classroom until seven, if I don’t go now, I won’t have enough time to practice,” you kiss his neck, “I have to get as much practice in this month before doing my defense,” You untangle your limbs from his and haul yourself to your feet, his body already mourning the absence of your heat. He watches you make your way to the bedroom to change, the door still open as you strip your shirt off.
His gaze admires you as you do, shifting to sitting up, his chin leaning against the back of the couch, “When is your defense again?”
“It’s in three weeks,” you sigh, as you tug a shirt over your head, “I’m so nervous, I have to start practicing now or I’ll drive myself insane,” and you’re stripping off your shorts in exchange for some jeans, “my advisor, many of my professors, students from the department, and maybe some undergrads might attend,” you turn, as you finish changing, catching his admiring gaze with a slight smirk, “and unlike you, they won’t just be interested in staring at me,”
“I think some of them definitely will,” he smiles, and you walk over, leaning down to press a sweet kiss to his lips, “at least, I’ll be, if you let me,”
Your lips curl, “Oh yeah? I think I’ll be distracted if you keep giving me this puppy dog look, baby,” you kiss his nose, “might make me walk over in the middle of the defense and kiss you,”
A soft chuckle leaves his throat, “That would cause a scene, but I could also be some moral support — a friendly face,”
“More than friendly, you’re selling yourself short, Yu,” you kiss him again, and he can taste the lingering salt and butter of the popcorn you two had ate earlier during your afternoon movie turned nap time, “but I think having you there would make me more nervous, so is it okay if we just have dinner to celebrate or cheer me up after?”
His brows knit together, “You don’t want me there?” but Geto gets to be there? The unspoken feelings he can’t find in him to voice, the words lodged in his chest, ricocheting off his ribs if only to free themselves from his anxious heart to spill from his lips — but they don’t.
“I do, Yu, of course, but I think having you there will just make me more nervous, I’ll just keep looking at you instead of addressing the whole audience, and…” you bite your lip, “with Professor Geto already having to be there, I think I would spend the whole time worrying about the two of you together than about my defense,”
And his heart sinks — your ex gets to be there, but he doesn’t? At one of your most important moments? He knows logically the only reason you ask because you can’t ask Geto — but it doesn’t hurt any less. Does he always have to be the nice one? The mature one? Couldn’t he argue with you?
No, but he could ask.
“Do you think I’ll make a scene or that he’ll—“ and you’re shaking your head, your fingers cupping his cheek.
“Of course not. I know you would do nothing but support me, but still forcing you two of be in the room together,” you press a kiss to his forehead, “even if you say it’s okay, I know it’s still hard,” his lips part, but you add, “and it would be awkward for me too. And I can’t do anything about Geto, but I can ask you,”
You could always ask him. He would do anything for you — but did his feelings matter as much to you?
“Of course, I understand,” your lips curl, and you’re pulling him into a hug, you rake your fingers through his hair.
“Are you sure?” You murmur, pressing your forehead to his, “you can tell me if you’re not okay with it,”
He could tell you that he’s not — he could tell you that it’s important for him to come, for everyone to see that he was important to you, for him to see that he was important. But it wasn’t about him. This was your defense, shouldn’t you have a right to have who you want there?
Even if it wasn’t him.
“It’s fine baby, I just want to support you,” he kisses your lips, “but I’ll plan something special for after you pass your defense — because I know you will,”
You kiss him again, softer and fuller this time, as your fingers run down his cheek, “You don’t have to plan anything — I just want you, and maybe some food,” and he chuckles, as you place butterfly kisses all over his face, “I love you,”
And he knew you did — you loved him — and that was enough, right?
“I love you too,” and you’re pulling away, as you pull on your shoes and grab your bag.
“I’ll be home by eight, should I grab dinner?” and he leans back on the couch, nodding, “I’ll see you when I get home okay?”
And he was the one you always came home to — the one you wanted to come home to — and that was enough.
“See you soon, baby.”
For now.
You enter the lecture hall, the door closing behind you with a click that rings in the silence.
Of course.
Of course you ended up with the lecture hall you had with Suguru’s class. You round the podium at the bottom, and give a terse chuckle, how had it been so long but so little time? How many days had you watched him lecture here — only to end up falling for him after? Even despite how much you hated him — it was so easy.
And still so hard.
You set up your phone to record yourself, if only so you could fine tune your presentation, and see any spots that you struggle. You prop it up, making sure it’s framed correctly on the desk directly in front of you. You run through your presentation once, noting spots for improvements or thoughts for potential questions people could pose during your defense.
You flipped through a few pages of your notes — wondering how this semester had flown by.
The rest of your thesis was completed over email — brief email exchanges and your thoughts exchanged through notes scrawled on the pages he scanned to you. It was better this way — you didn’t have to see him. You didn’t have to see the smile on his lips that you didn’t put there, a stray lipstick mark on his collar that you didn’t stain, or the happiness in his voice that you didn’t cause.
No, you didn’t need to see that.
But you didn’t know why.
Why did the idea of him moving on irk you when you had already moved on? You weren’t vindictive — your fingers drumming against the podium — you wanted him to be happy, to find someone who made him happy — maybe in all the ways you couldn’t. But the stubborn thought remained — the same one that kept you up crying every night after he broke your heart and haunted you even in your happiest of nights — that he could have had it all with you — but he didn’t. And now here you both were, fake smiles plastered in front of each other whenever your paths crossed, as if those lips hadn’t murmured ‘I love you’ before in the quiet of the night.
But why did it matter? You were happy with Yuta, you had moved on, and yet — when you saw Suguru with her, it felt as if the stitches holding your heart together had come undone, and you were back — right where you started.
But it didn’t matter. Either way the thesis was complete, and now all that was left in front of you was the defense, then you would be done — with this project, with your degree, and with Suguru.
But would you ever be done with him?
There was a knock at the door, and you turn only to find Suguru leaning against the frame, “Sorry to interrupt,”
Apparently you would never be.
Your shock lasts a moment, before your eyes flicker back to your stack of papers, “Do you need something?” The question comes more bitingly than you intended, but you don’t bother to gauge his reaction, focusing on mindlessly rifling through your presentation.
“I forgot my notes for tomorrow’s class,” he says, quiet steps ringing in the silence of the lecture hall, “didn’t mean to interrupt,” and you’re gathering your notes, catching a glimpse before you step back from the podium, “are you practicing for your defense?”
“I am,” your answer is as terse as your emails, eyes fixed anywhere but where Suguru stood, as he pulled his file from one of the shelves inside the podium.
“Do you need any help?” He asks, and you almost want to ask: ‘haven’t you helped me enough?’ But you don’t, only shaking your head in reply. The silence drags on for far too long, “can we talk?”
Your muscles tense, a bow drawn taut for an argument, but you would draw blood first, “What is there to talk about, Professor—“
His calm facade cracks, irritation seeping in like poison through the fractures,“You don’t need to call me that—“
“I do,” you cut him off, “because that’s what you are. My professor. Nothing more,” and it’s a line in the sand you’ve drawn since you’ve met again, one he hasn’t dared to toe, much less cross, until now.
His voice is broken, “We were so much more,” yes, you both were. He was everything to you as you were to him — but that was before. And this was now.
“Operative words are key, Professor — ‘were’ is past tense,”
“But we’re here now, aren’t we? How long are we going to avoid discussing this?”
You scoff, “am I the one who avoided it? Do I have to discuss it now on your terms — when you didn’t even give me a chance to make my own decisions before?” Your fingers curl into fists, “you broke me, you broke me and now you come back wanting to talk as if you didn’t do the breaking to begin with? You don’t get to come back when I’m fixed,” the bottled emotions burst at the seams of its lid, the contents more vile than when they were placed inside, resentment fermented into rage.
“I know,” he says softly, “I’m not trying to come back, not if that’s what you don’t want. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I left you. I thought it was the best for you—“
“Because you know better than I do?” You give a bitter chuckle, “do you know infantilizing it is to have someone make your decisions for you? I know what I wanted, Suguru, and I would have chosen you, every time—“
“That was the problem,” he cuts you off, “I wanted you to choose yourself,”
“Do you not understand that choosing you is choosing myself too? Because it would have been a choice for me, for us, for us to be happy,”
And those words seem to sink in the silence, his eyes averting from yours, a hand scrubbing down his face.
“You’re right,” he finally says, “I’m sorry,” his words are quiet, but heavy — a rock sinking slightly into near still waters, “I wanted you to have everything, but I didn’t take into consideration what that meant to you,” he says, “I suppose I didn’t consider what I owe you,” he adds, and you shake your head, a small smile on your lips.
“Shut up,” a chuckle leaves your lips despite yourself, cooling the white hot anger to warm wistfulness, “I wish it could have worked out,” and he nods, a small frown on his lips.
“Me too,”
“But maybe it was for the best,” and his eyes find yours, as you step back to the podium to place your papers down, “it was never going to work between us. It was already too complicated to begin with, and when we finally got together, there was a time limit,” you find his gaze again, unreadable, “maybe it was for the best we moved on,” he doesn’t reply, “I should get back to work,”
He nods, as he turns to leave, casting a glance back over his shoulder, “Let me know if you need help with anything. Practice or otherwise, has the final formatting of your thesis been approved?”
“It hasn’t yet, but I believe I followed the guidelines correctly, so there shouldn’t be an issue,” you say, and he nods, as the door clicks open, as he turns the handle, “thank you again, for everything,” and there’s far too much that can encompass everything that he did even in that word, but you meant it all the same. Everything he did had led you to this moment, and you would never be ungrateful for the impact he had.
“Of course, I’ll always be there for you, anytime,” his eyes find yours, lips curled in a wanting smile that wishes to say more, “even when I actually do move on.”
And he’s gone in a moment, the door shutting behind him, as your gaze is fixed on the place he just stood — lips parted.
What?
“Professor,” you stop him, fingers reaching for him, even as you promised you wouldn’t — wouldn’t put yourself here again, wouldn’t find yourself falling into his grasp again, but here you were again — you never learned your lesson. But you wondered if that made you a bad student or him a bad professor, “what do you mean?”
He’s turning only for your hand to grasp onto the sleeve of his jacket, your name leaving his lips but you cut him off.
The question wavers on your lips, “Are you not with—“
“No, I’m not. She’s just a friend, like I said,” he runs his fingers through his hair, “I know it’s ironic for me to be the one to break up with you, and not have moved on, but, I haven’t,” his fingers brush against your own holding his jacket, before slowly intertwining, “I don’t know if I ever will,”
“Well, some philosophers believe in endurantism — the past is dead, and we live here and now — we can’t do anything about what happened then — we’re whole right now, and not defined by what happened then, or what happens in the future,” your fingers squeeze his, “if we let this go, we could just exist now — the past erased and the future unclear — but we’re no less whole, are we?” your fingers slowly let go of his — but his don’t. He only clings to your fingers still, stubbornly laced.
“Perhaps you aren’t,” and he’s gently tugging you closer, you don’t find yourself resisting, but instead leaning into his touch, “but I always find myself clinging to my past — when you’re contained within it,” he lifts your hand to his lips, “what future do I have without you?” He presses a soft kiss that steals your logic, “and what present is worth being in that I don’t get to spend at your side?”
“Suguru—“ and he sighs, as draws closer to you, breath warming your lips.
“Been so long since I’ve heard you say my name,” his lips ghost your jaw, barely not brushing against it, “my name doesn’t sound the same unless it’s leaving your lips,”
“We shouldn’t,” but even so, the back of his hand lightly drags against your why shouldn’t you? Not when it felt so good, not when it felt this right, and your lips graze his, “Suguru,” you’re murmuring, the faint lingering taste of coffee on his lips, “fuck—“
RING. RING. RING.
Your eyes flutter open to find yourself in bed alone, your hand reaching beside you only to find more of your blanket and more pillows beside you, as it dawns on you.
A dream. Of course. A sigh stuck in your throat — no, you had watched him leave that night without another word, even though you had so many to say, but none at all. And even now, you didn’t know what to say — to Suguru, to yourself, or to Yuta.
So you said nothing. And instead, you’re left with an aching in your chest as you grab your phone to find a text from Yuta—
Had to go in early today— I’ll see you for dinner, baby
You lock your screen and place your phone on the nightstand, before turning back around to bury yourself in bed — as if staying in bed would bury your feelings along with yourself—
Because that’s not whose text you wanted to see.
“You’re home,” Yuta says when he walks through the door to find you lying on the couch and scrolling on your phone.
“No ‘hi you’re home?’” And Yuta snorts, as he strips off his clothes, and walks in to place a kiss on your lips, burying his face in the crook of your neck, drawing a giggle from your lips, “I missed you too,”
“I thought you were going to practice today. Your defense is the day after tomorrow. I didn’t think I’d get to see you out of a classroom until tomorrow evening when it was done,” you run your fingers through his dark locks, “thought I’d have to pry you away from your notecards,”
“Ha, ha,” you kiss his cheek, brushing your nose against it, “I thought it would be good to take a break tomorrow, and I’m just exhausted after all the practice I did tonight,” you sigh, and he’s on the couch beside you, wrapping his arms around your middle, “this seems like a much better use of my time,” you settle into his arms, “how was your day?”
Yuta shrugs, kissing your shoulder, “Better now,” and you chuckle, rumbling against his skin, sending a shiver up his spine as you lean over, his cheeks a pretty flush that only makes your lips curl, “it’s been too long since we got time like this. I don’t even know where to start,” he nuzzled the side of your face.
You turn your head to kiss him fully, lips sliding against his, voice a quiet murmur, “then let’s make our time count,” your sweet kiss grows deeper, your tongue at the seam of his lips that he parts for you. You swallow his moan with a smirk on your lips, your body moving against his slowly, his tenting erection catching on your clit through the far too thin material of your shorts.
“Fuck,” you murmur, as you slowly begin to grind on his bulge, the delicious friction too much for him as well, head lolling back against the couch, “Yu, s’good,”
“Mm,” Yuta parts from your lips, panting as your lips press eager kisses down his neck, a desperation he hadn’t sensed before from you, “baby, slow down,” and you almost don’t seem to hear him, as your fingers find their way between your bodies to touch him through his joggers, “ngh, you don’t need to—“
But you seemingly do, as your thumb flicks against the tip, a soft hiss escapes his lips, “like that, pretty boy?” You’re murmuring in his ear, “gonna make you feel so good, because you’re s’good f’me,”
And you’re slipping his joggers and boxers down to free his cock, stroking him from base to tip, lovely beads of precum dripping down his length and your knuckles.
“Fuck,” he’s covering his face with his hand, his fingers grasping at your hips, before eager fingers slide between your thighs and underneath your underwear, drawing a lovely gasp from your lips, “wanna make you feel good too, baby,” as his fingers circle your dripping entrance teasingly, a smirk on his lips, as he sinks one then two fingers in knuckle deep—
“Yu—“ your hand stills for a moment as his fingers work their way against your drenched insides, “fuck—“ and you’re melting into his arms — and maybe this was just what you both needed.
“This was so nice,” you mumble against his chest later, pressing soft kisses against his skin as the two of you laid entangled in the afterglow, “it’s been too long,”
He hums, “It was perfect,” his fingers skim down your cheek, “you know we could have this every day,” and you chuckle, the corner of your lips curled mischievously.
“Do you have the stamina for that?” you tease, painting a heated flush across his cheeks, as he rolls his eyes.
“I mean, we could go to sleep like this every night, and wake up together every morning if we moved in together,” and you blink at him, his nervousness overcoming him as he begins to backpedal, “w-we don’t have to! I just thought I’m ready for the next step with you. And I want to—“
You cut him off with a soft kiss, pausing his worries and anxiety in the syrupy sweetness of your kiss, before you pull away, “I think I need some time to think about it,”
And he nods, “take all the time you need, baby,” pressing a kiss to your forehead, but a thought still niggles into the forefront of his mind that he can’t help but dwell on—
Would you say yes if it was Geto asking?
It always seemed that you were ready when it came to him. Ready to be with him, no matter what the consequence, willing to make it work — but with him, it felt as if he was always the one chasing, and you were reluctantly within his grasp.
As you drew closer into his arms as the two of you settled down to sleep, his fingers running softly through your hair, he wondered how long it would be until he felt as if he wasn’t the one desperately holding onto you, even as you seemingly always slipped away.
Even as he held you against his chest, heartbeat under where your head laid. He knew you were the one who had his heart.
He could only hope you wouldn’t drop it.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” it wasn’t supposed to be like this, but it was always like this. No matter how well prepared you felt, something always managed to go wrong at the last minute. It was always when you were lulled into a false sense of security, only to have a rude awakening—
And this time it came in the form of an email rejecting your thesis formatting as incorrect. An email that came in that morning, but you had slept through, choosing to sleep in past noon after last night. And when your eyes fluttered open, Yuta was gone already for the day, you rolled over to check your email when you saw it.
Fuck.
You barely had time to text Yuta what had happened before rushing to the library to seek possible help from the librarians — fuck, you would have paid every overdue library charge if necessary. You didn’t want to wait another semester to present again. It would be more time wasted, more time spent working towards something you’re already for, more time spent in this place that you didn’t want to linger in any longer.
How had you managed to fuck it up so bad? Now every one of your citations and in text citations would need to be redone, along with reformatting by 5:00 PM today. And it was already 2:00 PM.
But maybe you were going to have to, as you rushed to pull the library door open, only to find it was closed this weekend due to scheduled maintenance.
Double fuck.
Your eyes burned with tears that you didn’t want to shed right now. You had no time to cry. You had no time to panic. But it was all you wanted to do — just crawl into bed and cry.
You were turning back around to leave, when you nearly ran into—
He steadies you, his fingers brushing your shoulders, as his lips part to greet you, but his brow furrows when he sees your expression, “what’s wrong? Are you okay?”
And that wasn’t the right question to ask.
Tears slip from your eyes before words can, as Suguru blinks, concern flooding his face, as his hand finds yours and he takes you to his office nearby. It takes a few minutes for you to calm down (several tissues later) and you finally explained to him what happened.
His hand never leaves yours.
“I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to waste another semester here, I can’t do that. I want to graduate—“
“Listen, slow down for a second, ok?” His voice is soft, soothing your anxiety like a balm, even as your nerves flare as your eyes flicker to the time again, “There’s time to fix this and go get it resubmitted before 5:00 PM. But, even if you do have to do another semester, what’s so bad about that?”
You shake your head, biting your bottom lip, “I can’t waste time like that. I already said I was graduating. If I have to stay another semester,” more tears trail down your cheeks, your nails digging into your knees, “how could I face anyone after how hard I worked?”
Suguru whispers your name, his fingers brushing against your cheek, “what’s another semester? Nothing will change. No one will view you any differently. But the more important thing is how you view yourself — and you know how hard you worked. You’ll be fine,”
You’re wiping your tears, sniffling, unable to meet his gaze, “How do you have so much faith in me?”
He gives a brief chuckle, “It’s you — how could I not?” And your eyes finally lift to meet his, as his thumb rubs lightly back and forth across your cheek, before he clears his throat, “we have time to get it resubmitted,”
“‘We?’” and he stands up to grab a copy of your thesis and the error notes you had shown him.
“Well I can’t have you do it, otherwise you’ll end up submitting it late,” and you huff, a watery chuckle leaving your throat, “come on.”
“Suguru?” You call softly, as he turns, blinking at the sound of his name, “thank you.”
“Of course.” and he smiles that damnable smile that made you fall for him — your heart squeezing and thudding against its bony cage, an aching that left you longing — a glance at your phone with Yuta’s notification that sent that longing sinking like a stone into the pit of your stomach.
No. It wasn’t that.
It wasn’t. Not if you let it be.
“I’m sorry,”
It had been quiet for sometime as the two of you made edits — him on the actual physical copy, while you edited the digital. The quiet scrape of his pen against paper and the clack of your keys are the only sound in his office. The very same one that the two of you had built your relationship from, and now here you were again. Except there was no banter, no smiles shared, nor even a knowing glance exchanged.
There was only silence.
Until you spoke first.
It was a silence you weren’t accustomed to — a layer of awkwardness that had settled between the two of you as if to bandage the honesty that had shredded the false student-professor only relationship you had superimposed on top of the two of you.
Only for you to claw your way out — and claw him open as well.
But no bandage can seal a gaping wound for long, and there was only one way to deal with a bandage effectively, by ripping it off.
His eyes draw up slowly from the pages in front of him, glasses perched on the tip of his nose so precariously that you wanted to push them back, “You have nothing to be sorry for — and you know it’s better to thank than apologize — I’m always here to help,”
But that wasn’t what you were apologizing for.
“I meant for the other day,” you say softly, guilt was crawling at your throat.
His gaze grows heavy, “There’s nothing to apologize for that either. You were right,” he adds, “I made decisions for us, when it should have been a discussion — especially when I said it was for you—“
“I wasn’t sorry I said it,” you gently cut him off, fingers knitted together in your lap, “but I’m sorry for where and how I said it. It wasn’t the time or place for that.”
“It’s really ok,” he tells you, a glance at his face telling you that it really was, “I would have yelled at myself far sooner, and nothing you said wasn’t true,” his hand tugs at his tie, loosening it, his fingers wrapped around the fabric, “I wish I did it differently,”
You shouldn’t ask the question but it falls from your lips before you can stop it, “What would you have done differently?”
And he gives a smile worthy of melancholy’s grasp, “I would have kept my promise to you,” and you know which one he means without him needing to say, “I would never have left you, if I hadn’t been too busy being a happiness pump,” and those words stir warm coals in a fire you thought was long put out — but somehow burns still, a flicker of a promise for a spark.
One you couldn’t stoke.
“Well, you make an excellent one,” and he scoffs, “no really, I’ve never seen someone so unhappy trying to make someone else happy before,”
“I wouldn’t say, ‘so unhappy—’” his pout is far too cute for your own good.
“Can really tell your life fell apart without me,” you say completely teasingly, as your lips curl, only to find his eyes on you still, “what?”
He only shakes his head, “only regretting not giving you lower than a 99 on your final paper,” and you gape at him as he bites back a chuckle, “I am the department head, maybe I could—“
“You mess with my grades—“ and your phone goes off — it’s Yuta. A text asking if everything was ok, before his face lights up your phone screen, and you’re not quick enough to avoid the awkward moment where Suguru sees it, “sorry I—“
“Go take it. I have plenty to get through,”
“But—“ but he’s already back to reviewing your citations as if nothing had happened as you pick up the call, screech of your chair as you get up to take the call, “hey, yeah I can talk—“ and the door is closing behind you as you step outside.
You don’t see the way he leans back, scrubbing a hand down his face to rest at his lips, “What am I doing?”
And he really didn’t know — as always, when it came to you.
“You’ll do amazing,” Yuta pressed another kiss to your lips, as you did the final adjustments to your outfit for the defense, “I can’t wait to celebrate with you,”
“I know, I can’t wait for it to be over,” you sigh, pulling him into your arms, your chin perched on his shoulder, “you still haven’t told me what we’re doing,”
He chuckles, his fingers cupping your cheek, “I told you it’s a surprise, so telling you would defeat the purpose,” you turn away to look at yourself again, “you look perfect,”
“You’re just saying that because you’re too nice,” you grumble and he laughs, as you bite your lip, meeting his gaze in the mirror, “I’m sorry about not having you there,”
And he feels a twinge in his chest, he had spent the last few days not trying to think about that. It wasn’t important that he was there — it was important that you’d be coming home to him. That’s what mattered — or that’s what he kept telling himself.
“It’s okay,” he intertwined his fingers with yours, and squeezed your hand, “I’ll be here after, waiting for your good news. Because I know it will be,” and his arms pulled you against him, and he can’t help but wonder why he doesn’t want to let go.
Even if you were ready to go.
You barely remembered what you said.
You remembered how your stomach turned and twisted in knots you didn’t know were physically possible as you made your way to the building where your defense was being held. Your fingers kept twiddling with your phone, checking the location and date listed in your email a million times to ensure you hadn’t missed your defense already or that you didn’t imagine your citations were accepted. You were sure your clothes would wrinkle from the sheer anxiety cladding through your veins, the vibration of nerves enough to beat creases into your freshly pressed clothes.
And you remembered seeing Suguru right when you walked in. He stood behind the table with the other members of the committee, chatting — and objectively, you hated how unfairly pretty he was. His long, inky hair tucked into a neat bun today, choosing to wear a crisp white button down, opting for no tie, but a off white sweater vest and black suit jacket over his shoulders, and lips curled in a small smile that only grows warmer when he catches sight of you from the corner of his eye. And it must be nerves, the way your heart flutters within your chest and the way that heat clings to your cheeks — nothing more.
Your eyes slide to him again — no one else.
You remembered how people filled into the classroom that you were defending your thesis in, as you shuffled around the front, setting up your presentation and notes for talking points. You spotted Maki, Panda, and Inumaki walk in, undoubtedly Yuta’s doing, along with a few of your other friends from the program. Your hands shook ever so slightly, even as you wrung them — a nervous habit you had picked up before large presentations or important milestones.
And then as people took their seats and it was 4:00 PM, it was time for your defense. You took a breath for a second — and your gaze finds not your friends, but Suguru’s. He offers you a smile, a look that tells you that he believes in you — always more than you ever had.
So you begin.
You don’t remember what you said — but you remember speaking as you did a million times before in practice. You remember making an adlib or two that draws a few chuckles from your audience. But what you mostly remember is the few glances you stole from Suguru who listened intently, a mouthed encouragement when you took a pause.
And soon you were answering questions after concluding the main part of your presentation. You are fielding them from professors and students alike, until there was only time left for one more. There was silence for several moments — it felt like hours, the committee conferring and speaking amongst themselves.
“I think I can take one last question,” and your eyes darted over the group, finding no hands, until one slowly went up — one you were familiar with, “Professor Geto?”
Of course he would have a question — no less, the last one.
“I just had one comment about your thesis, not a question,” and with how he had poked and prodded at the fire of your work from the moment you met him — the way he pushed you head first into the flames, if only to temper the best version of your work, and of yourself. And even though you had burned yourself one too many times, you couldn’t help but reach for it again and again, “after conferring with the committee, congratulations, you passed your defense.”
The audience claps and congratulates you, a sea of shaking hands and kind words while you recover from the defense. But as the crowd disperses, you find Suguru walking towards you.
A silence settles over the two of you for a moment — a want to speak lingering between you two, but no words said. Why was it always when you had so much to say you found none of the thoughts you wanted to express? There wasn’t enough time — but they would never be.
But he breaks it first.
“Congratulations on your defense. You did wonderfully,” he says, hands tucked into his pockets, as you bite your lip, cheeks burning.
“No remark about me being on time? Or any little criticisms? I’m shocked. You’ve lost your edge, Professor,” he chuckles, shaking his head.
“Oh, there will be time for that later,” he replies, his hand slipping out from his pocket only to be placed gently on your shoulder, “but right now, I just want you to know I’m proud of your determination and grit, but mostly, I’m proud of you,”
His name almost slips from your lips as your mouth opens and closes, words stuck in your throat, “Thank you. It means so much,” especially from you. But you can’t say that, “I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me,”
“You don’t owe me anything,” and you chuckle, gaze finding his own, just as it always did.
“Don’t I? I think I owe you a drink, I never did buy you one after all — purely for networking purposes,” you add, “and a thank you for saving my ass on these citations,”
And he’s shaking his head, “All I did is what you what have done for anyone else,”
“And you wouldn’t?” And he shrugs.
“For a student? Maybe. For you? Always,” and you bite your lip, gaze falling, “what is it?
“Why?” ‘Why for me?’ was the question you wanted to ask but you couldn’t push the words past your lips even as they rested on your tongue.
But he knew the words.
“You know the reasons,” he says softly, “I know you have nothing but amazing things ahead, and I’d do anything to see you reach your goals,”
And he would. He did.
“I can agree with that,” a hand clasps your shoulder, Yaga gives a small smile, “good job,”
“Professor Yaga, oh my god,” you grin, resisting the urge to hug him, “how are you? Are you feeling better?”
“I’m well enough. Treatment has been honestly shit, but my son is doing a good enough job looking after me,” Yaga rubs the back of his head, “that and balancing classes hasn’t been easy for the kid.”
“Your son goes here?” Professor Yaga points at a familiar cluster of three, “Panda?” You didn’t really see a family resemblance but you supposed you didn’t have to.
He nods, “but I’m not here to talk about him,” he holds his hand out to you, “I’m very proud of you. I know you have a bright future ahead. I apologize I couldn’t help—“
“You did too much. Thank you Professor Yaga,” and then others are calling for you, “if you both will excuse me,”
“Of course, I need to speak to Suguru so it’s just as well,” and your attention is pulled, but the corner of your eye still watches him, watches him leave the leave — leaving you behind here. Just as it should be, your gaze sliding back, as your fingers rested against your chest.
So why did it hurt so much?
Yuta was late — it seems he always was, when it came to you.
Even so, this time it was somewhat purposely, but he still had tried to be on time. He wanted to at least hear the very end of your defense, if not in sight, then outside the classroom. But he had run late, trying to straighten out reservations he made at a restaurant you’ve been wanting to try for months. He had finally convinced them to bring out a cake as if to celebrate your birthday, but for your thesis. It was silly, as Yuta half walked half sprinted to the room of your defense, only to find it was over.
The doors to the lecture hall had been opened after your defense finished, some people filing out, while others lingered to speak to you or others. Yuta held the bouquet of flowers behind him, scanning the group for you — and his eyes fell on you — with Geto.
You were both off to the side, speaking alone, his hand clasped on your shoulder, before slipping off. And it was clear from the way he looked at you — that he felt the same for you as he always did. And you—
You looked the same, as you always did, when it came to Geto.
Yuta’s fingers squeeze at the base of the flowers, plastic crinkling under his grasp. He hadn’t asked why you had stopped meeting with him for your thesis — almost a relief to have your correspondence all over email, and not to face dealing with the weekly meetings. He hadn’t asked, but he could assume some sort of argument happened, a discussion, a confession maybe — something you hadn’t broached with him. And a part of him really didn’t want you to. He didn’t want to have the boat rocked on him — but—
As he watched you become pulled away when another professor joined your conversation, and Geto was pulled away out of the room by that same professor — Yuta saw your eyes follow Geto’s back. The two walk past Yuta without notice, engrossed in their conversation, and Yuta catches a few snippets of it before they’re out the door.
And he turned back to you — he knew he may have to be the one to rock it. Because the ship had already begun taking in water — and it was either he grasped onto the side with white knuckles and went down with it, or he let it go, letting it fall into the wreckage. He glanced away from you, starting to walk off towards the exit — because maybe this ship wasn’t made to sail, but to sink.
And he couldn’t let himself drown — even for you.
You checked your phone again as you left — no phone calls, not even a text back. You bit your lip as you made your way back to the apartment. You had already called him three times, but your anxiety was getting the better of you. He had told you he would meet you after the defense, but there wasn’t any sign of him.
You opened the door to your place, keys jingling as head inside to find him sitting on the couch. You put your things down, as you head to the living room.
“Yu? Are you okay? You weren’t picking up—“ and you see a bag of his things packed, “Yuta?”
“Sorry I made you worry, baby, I just thought,” he sighs, unable to meet your gaze as he looks in front of him, “I thought I could wait, but I can’t,”
“Yuta, what? What’s—“
Your name leaves his lips, cutting you off gently, as he finally looks at you, gaze heavy, “we need to break up.”
You don’t have words.
No, you have one word.
“Why?” You ask, as you take steps forward to sit beside him, as your mind struggles to keep up — your certificate still in your hand, the excitement of being done all but extinguished.
“I’m sorry, but don’t you know why?” He asks softly, and your eyebrows knit together, shaking your head,
“What are you talking about?” And you’re wringing your hands, fingers nearly in knots, a sigh parting your lips as you try to soothe yourself, “Yuta, I know I’ve been busy this semester with my thesis, but it’s done with. And we can go back to—“
“We can’t,” and it was so final — so definitive — and without a way for you to have a choice. Yet again. Were you doomed to repeat this cycle? Again and again. With no change in the outcome. And you don’t know what to say, as you scrub a hand down your face.
“Okay then,” and your name slips from his lips, as you cross your arms.
“You don’t understand—“ and your chuckle is so bitter.
“How can I when you haven’t explained? All you’ve said are cryptic things that I’m supposed to piece together what? What am I supposed to know?” Tears slip down your cheek, forcing your voice to stay steady, the stress of the last few months crashing down around you just as your relationship did, “I know that I haven’t been the best girlfriend. And I’m sorry. I really am,” your voice breaks, “But I tried. I tried to communicate. I tried to spend time with you, even when I didn’t have a minute to myself. You knew I’d be busy. You knew that going in and still—“
His voice is gentle, so gentle that it infuriates you — gentle even when he’s hurting you, “It’s not that—“
“Then what is it?” You snap — you were tired of running in circles — you needed an answer, a tangible reason why.
“Geto,” you blink, as the confession settles over his face, “it wasn’t your schedule. It was who you spent it with,” and you’re staring for a moment, expression crumbling under the weight of the truth.
“Yuta, Yu, no—“ you step towards him, but he only sighs, running a hand through his hair, “it was only for my thesis. Nothing happened between us. I promise,”
“I trust you when you say nothing happened,” but his eyes lift to meet yours, “and in a way nothing has happened, because you still love him,”
“yuta—“
“I know you love me, in some way,” the words leave his lips slowly, cutting you each syllable, but you can’t imagine how deeply and how long he’s been cut by these thoughts already, “but not like you love him—“
“That’s not—“
“You know before we started dating, I talked to Maki about how I feel, and I told her I was afraid that you would never look at me the way you look at him,” and the mended pieces of your heart break apart with new cracks with the way his voice wavers, “but all this time, and still, you haven’t. Even today, when I waited outside of the lecture hall, I saw you both together — and I know,” he breaks off, biting his lip, “I know it was him congratulating you, but the way you looked at him hadn’t changed—“
You’re shaking your head, “Yuta, no, no, it’s just a look. I don’t even know how I look at him, but it doesn’t—“
“I do know how you look. It hasn’t changed,” he’s swallowing, his eyes fall to the floor, “and it’s not just that. Do you see a future with me?”
“Of course—“
“When I brought up moving in, you said you’d think about it, but have you?” you open and close your mouth, fingers grasping at the fabric of your clothes, “have you thought about what happens after you graduate? Or what’s next for us?” your silence is answer enough — sinking in for you, as it already did for him — slipping in between your ribs like a well placed dagger — and it had stabbed him all the same too, “you love me, but I don’t think you’re in love with me,”
“Yuta, I do, I do love you—“ and he draws close to you, fingers cupping your cheek.
“But the world doesn’t stop for you when I come near? It doesn’t feel as if I steal your breath when I hold you like this? Does it feel as if you don’t wish to spend a moment without me?”
“Love doesn’t always have to—“
“But it does — to some extent,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “you imagined your future with him didn’t you? Didn’t even want to spend a moment apart?” And he gives a terse chuckle, “we have to break up,”
You don’t want it to be true. You want to fight him, argue, convince him he’s wrong, that the explanation he’s pieced before you is falsified — a distorted version of how you felt conflated by misunderstandings.
But you can’t.
“Yuta, I—“ and he shakes his head, “no, I’m sorry, I didn’t, I didn’t mean—“ your eyes burn with tears, “I’m sorry,”
He smiles softly, pulling you into his arms, “I knew we had rushed in, but I didn’t want to wait, because I thought I’d lose my chance,”
“Yu—“ he kisses your cheek, “I do love you, I do,” and he nods, lips curling sadly, before he pulls you into another hug.
“I know. I love you too.”
But it wasn’t enough — and it wasn’t right.
Not for either of you.
You don’t know how much time you spent in bed after that. The semester had closed out, and you had curled up under your sheets — seemingly a new tradition you had of ending a semester with a break up. You wondered if graduating would end it — and if it didn’t, you might have to reconsider going for your Ph.D. — if only to avoid this pain again.
You stick your head up out of your blanket, glancing at the light pooling in from the window — because time went on no matter how you felt, and the sun rose each day, despite it all.
Yuta had grabbed his things and left a while after. You still could feel the brush of his fingers against your skin as he squeezed your hand one last time.
“You’re still my best friend,” you had told him, forcing your voice to stay even, and he chuckles, a smile on his lips.
“You’re still mine too.”
But even so you hadn’t heard from him in a few days — but you couldn’t blame him. You could only blame yourself. It had become so exceedingly clear that he was right. And you didn’t know how you hadn’t seen it. The anger still lingered, but anger was only the remnants of your love for him that still stubbornly clung to life, despite your efforts to move on.
But moving on wasn’t as simple as finding feelings for someone else — not when you were only ever truly in love with one person.
You were still in love with Suguru.
Despite it all — you hadn’t gotten over him, and you weren’t sure you ever would. If months weren’t enough, would years be? Would you ever get rid of the feelings you had for him, wrapped around your limbs, and had snuck into the crevices of your heart. An invasive species that perhaps you would never eradicate.
But you couldn’t go back now. Not after everything that happened. Not
Your phone goes off, lighting up on your bedside table before beginning to ring, your fingers slipping from inside your cocoon of blankets. You grab your phone — Professor Yaga?
“Hello?”
He greets you with your name, “I hope you’re doing well — I just wanted to reach out to congratulate you again on your successful defense,” you smile, sitting up as you do. The two of you make small talk as he discusses his recovery, reporting that he’s doing well.
“Thank you so much Professor Yaga, for everything, really,” and he chuckles.
“Thank you for being so understanding of my situation — it was difficult, but I’m glad Suguru stepped for in me so well, and I’m sure he’ll do well in Kyoto—“
“He’s going back?” the question spills from your lips before you can even hold your tongue, “I didn’t know you were—“
“I’m not returning yet, but even if I do, I don’t think I will be returning as a department head. So I gave Suguru the choice to stay department head here or move to Kyoto,” and he adds, “I did give him the choice to stay here or move back to Kyoto,”
And your throat is dry, “Oh I see. That’s good for him,” a silence settles over the call for a moment, before Yaga speaks.
“He hasn’t made a decision yet,” Yaga says, and he’s staying for graduation so if you’d like to thank him in person since I interrupted your conversation, II know on good authority that he’s in his office right now,” and he adds, “it’s not too late if someone were to speak to him now,”
You blink, “Professor Yaga—“
“You’re all but graduated so I’m allowed to say this — I wish you both the best. But I know Suguru has never been happier than when he was with you,” you bite your lip, “so for both of your sakes, you should go talk to him,”
“Thank you, Professor, for everything.” And you hang up without much to do, grabbing your bag and keys before heading out the door.
He was right, fingers squeezing around your phone — it’s what you owed him — and yourself.
Suguru sat back in his office, finally done with his papers for his philosophy class. The sun had long fled the sky, along with most staff and students. The end of the semester had come quick, and with it came a quiet and deserted campus with nothing but his grade book and the buzzing of the fluorescent lights in his office to keep him company.
Not that he was craving company.
He loosened his tie, unbuttoning a button or two on his shirt and on his cuffs, and then rolled his sleeves up. He was insane for still insisting on teaching a class amongst the insanity, though he did have another professor step in to co-teach the course. He didn’t know why he had stuck to that sticking point when it was illogical — but, as he gazed down at the stack of final papers strewn in front of him doused in his red ink, he knew it wasn’t a logical reason.
He was rifling through the graded stack, adding the scores to his grade book. This semester has been a mixed bag, a mix of grades — from high to low. Some of the papers were insightful, others were clear that they had only taken this class as a course to blow off. But even of all the high graded essays, not one of the papers compared to yours.
But of course, no one compares to you, and that’s why he needed to leave. He knew that. He wanted you to be happy — even if that didn’t include him. And after this semester, it couldn’t. Being around you was an exercise of torture — Tantalus who had been starving for decades to get a taste of food, only to be hungrier after that morsel. A bite of the apple only makes you want to devour it, core and all.
It was just as Aristotle had said — desire was made of both rational and irrational, and his longing for you is rooted in the rational — because yes, perhaps his body craved you irrationally and carnally, but that was far overshadowed by the need for you after experiencing you for himself. This self made inducement would be the death of him, and Aristotle himself would call him a fool.
But he didn’t need him to — because he was. A fool and a coward, just as you said. He sets down his pen, leaning against his hand, as he looks over at the blank reply email to Yaga with his cursor blinking. It would be for the best if he left for Kyoto again. So you didn’t have to see him again.
And then there was a knock at his office door. He paused, eyes flicking up only to hear your voice through the door, “It’s me,”
He hates the way his breath catches at the sound of you, heart picking up as his eyes flicker to the somewhat late hour and back. No words on his lips except the one thing he can say.
“Come in,”
And you do — you always liked to tease him that he was the one who was unfair when it came to how he looked, but to him, it was you that was unfair. Your hair askew, chest rising and falling quick, clothes a little disheveled and yet, you were always the most gorgeous person he’d met in his life.
You shift in the entryway of the door, squirming seemingly under his gaze, “Is this a bad time?”
Time never was in either of your favor, not ones that she found beguiling, except in a way meant to deceive. But time and time again, he allowed himself to be tricked — if only for a moment with you.
“No, not at all. I just wrapped up grading the final papers,” and you give a soft chuckle, as you close the door behind you, before taking careful steps forward, eyes finding the stack nearly bleeding from his careful cuts and slashes.
“How many red pens did you use up? Fifty?”
“Oh, only forty-nine this time, trying to be more conservative with my usage,” and you scoff, more of a chuckle than a sneer, “plus, I didn’t have a student write several pages over the limit this time—“
You gape at him, and he has to bite back his smile, “It was one page, and you said I could,”
“Bullied into it was more like it,”
“Don’t know of a case where a student could bully a professor into anything,”
“They clearly haven’t had you in their classroom,” and then he adds, a soft smile on his lips, “but I suppose I could see them enjoy being bullied by a student as passionate about the subject — even if my office hours suffered for it,”
“You loved those office hours,” and he wants to say, yes, when you were there — but he can’t. He told himself he wouldn’t cross that line, “and I did too,” you add, and his eyes find yours — but maybe you would cross it instead, “you remember what you said about not being my professor anymore?”
And he did — all those months ago at the end of the first semester you had spent in class together, and he’s nodding, mouth impossibly dry, “Well I’m as good as graduated, so you’re definitely not my professor, not anymore,”
Your name slips from his lips, brow furrowed, a question almost, as if it can’t be what your words implied, but you’re shaking your head, as you pull a folded paper from your bag, unfolding it before sliding it across his desk.
His eyes fall on it, and it’s the note he had written all those months ago — asking you for a drink, and for so much more. He had admired your determination, your wit, your beauty, your intellect, and so many other things he didn’t have space to say —
“Suguru,” and his eyes find yours, and god, why was it so easy to get lost in your heady gaze? “We had said we didn’t want to hurt each other — but I don’t think that’s something that can be avoided. You hurt me,” and he nods, lips parting ready for an apology, “but I’ll probably hurt you — and I probably have already,”
“Sweetheart—“ the pet name falls from his mouth as if it’s second nature, “I—“
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” and the corner of his eyes burn with tears — is this a dream? Because he swears, it would be the cruelest one so far, “I can’t stop loving you, and I’ve tried to—I’ve tried to move on,”
“Maybe it would be for the best,” but you’re shaking your head, as you’re slowly rounding his desk, and the truth can’t help but fall from his lips, “I don’t deserve you—“
“What did I say about making decisions about us without me?” And he sighs, resistance crumbling as you draw far too close — and he couldn’t bear not to reach out, “you have to take responsibility for your actions, don’t you?”
“Sweetheart—“
“You said you haven’t moved on — is that still true?”
His fingers reach across the chasm he had carved between the two of you, his fingers tracing the curve of your jaw and the swell of your cheek, just he had wanted to for all these months. And just a taste, a brush of your skin, he’d never let you go again.
“I never could — not from you,” his voice wavers, “every day I missed you — I never wanted to break up with you, I just couldn’t bear to be the reason that you ever hold yourself back from getting something you wanted,” and he gives a bitter chuckle, shaking his head, “who knew I was the one doing that by leaving? And I’m so sorry, I am so—”
And your forehead pressed against his, his words nearly swallowed with a sob, as he squeezes his eyes shut, tears burning a trail down his cheeks, that you gently thumb away before cupping his cheeks, “I want to hear something other than an apology,”
His flutter open, lips brushing against your cheek, “I love you, I always have, sweetheart. I never stopped—” his voice breaks, a crack in the dam enough to spill the truth from his lips and tears from his eyes, “and I promise I’ll never break my promises anymore — that’s a contradiction, but—“ and your fingers find purchase on his cheek, consuming the words on his lips with your touch, “I promise, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you,”
Your lips curl, eyes watery as you kiss away one of his tears, “Is that a proposal?” you tease, your other hand slides back through his black locks, twisting one strand around your finger, “seems a little fast for that when you haven’t even kissed me properly yet,”
He snorts softly, clearing his throat ever so slightly, “If memory serves me, we’ve done a lot more than kiss before,” and he’s daring closer, as you lean down, your legs pressed against the lip of his desk, “nearly in this office,” and he’s slipping up from his desk, his breath stolen from his lungs by the whisper of your perfumed skin, and his logic eroded by the heat of your body against his.
“‘Nearly,’” you repeat with a soft hum, as your lips graze his jaw, “then why don’t we fix that?” your lips find his, a chaste kiss, barely a few seconds when you pull away half a centimeter, and he’s already leaning back in for another and another.
The familiar feel of your lips against yours makes him wonder how he had survived without you for so long — falling for you was as natural as breathing and kissing you was needed as oxygen. But each kiss only sends jolt over jolt up and down his body, and he wonders if he were to ever stop again, perhaps his heart would too.
Because all the time he had spent not with you was time spent living — perhaps breathing and existing. But no, he only felt alive when he was at your side — and in your arms. And especially against your lips. Delights in the way your lips part for him like muscle memory, tongue against yours — in a sloppy, desperate kiss that has every ounce of reason sucked from his mind (and likely into your mouth).
He parts if only for air, a string of spit connecting your lips, that he thumbs away, “If I recall, you had something about me not being very ethical last time we did this,” he remarks, his lips parting before kissing down your jaw, your taste an addiction to his deprived lips — a desert wanderer ready to swallow you whole, “and now here you are,” he’s leaning back, as your hand is splayed back against the wood of his desk, your chest rising and falling, lips kiss bitten red and swollen from his own, “what do you call this?” His finger is toying with the top button of your blouse.
“A student taking after her teacher,” your lips find his pulse, teeth grazing his skin as if to taunt him, to goad him to go further, but, and his fingers slip behind. your thighs and squeeze no goading was needed — he was ready to devour you.
And he’s lifting you onto his desk, papers crumpling underneath and pens flung onto the floor, and a gasp caught in your throat as he pins you against it, before tugging his tie off.
“Looks like I still have plenty to teach you.”
“Sugu, fuck,” your fingers thread through his black locks, undone from his bun hy your own hands, your nails digging into his scalp. How long have you been in this office with him now? Half an hour? Almost an hour? Time had lost all meaning to you when he had kissed his way down your body.
Burning kisses that had stolen your thoughts from your mind and left only him in its wake — how had you lived without him? Your fingers had found their way to the back of his neck, as his lips mapped the peaks and valleys of your neck and collarbone.
“Fuck,” a gasp parts your lips when his teeth teases the juncture of your neck and shoulder, sucking and biting again and agin, until he’s left pretty love bites gracing your across your skin.
And that sharp tongue of his dragged over the marks left blooming on your skin, as if couldn’t simply get enough of you, and he couldn’t.
“Suguru, please—“ you’re whining already and he barely began, and the all too smug smile against the swell of your breast only told you he thought the same.
“Patience, Princess, so needy f’me, aren’t you?” But he obliged anyway, fingers deftly unbuttoning your shirt.
And now your blouse was nearly shrugged off, your bra undone with your pert nipples still sticky with his saliva and breasts covered in small marks from his teeth grazing your skin. And now he had tugged your skirt down and off, leaving you only in your underwear.
“You’re making such a mess on my desk, sweetheart,” he clicks his tongue, as his large palms slide up your plush thighs and squeeze, drawing a lovely gasp from your lips, before he’s parting your thighs, “but it’s such a pretty mess when it’s you,” and you were so fucking pretty with your legs parted like this, panties translucent from your juices leaking from your dripping folds, even glossy against the wood of his desk now. And he would be sure to make a bigger mess soon enough.
“Sugu,” your cheeks burn as he stares, your embarrassment melting into a gasp when his fingers drag against your clothed slit teasingly, up and down, so meticulously again and again, until his fingers are sticky with your pre, “ngh, please—“
Your plea is enough for him to snap, as he’s tugging your underwear away and off, tucking the ruined panties into his pocket with a glint of his amethyst eyes in the low light of his office. Pretty folds in full display for him, with your swollen clit and glistening slit nearly begging for attention, and he’s more than happy to oblige.
And he’s running a finger down your lovely folds, gathering precum on his finger, far too slowly for your liking, as he takes his time to circle your clit, “All this just from a few kisses?” lust pools in his gaze with a flicker of amusement, “so sensitive just for me,” your need for him as plain as the juices that seep from your pussy, walls fluttering and aching for something more than the tip of his finger.
“Suguru, fuck, I can’t,” your toes curl when he finally pities you with a kiss to your needy cunt, nose bumping against your clit teasingly, the friction making your thighs tremble, “please—”
“Never thought I’d hear my quick witted T.A. beg for me like this, but I have dreamt of it,” you glance down at him, lips glossy with your pre, “I have to make up for time lost, time I wasted without you, princess,” and his thumb rubs at your clit, while his lips press sweet kisses to the flesh of your inner thigh, “it’s what I owe you, isn’t it?”
“I—” your sentence lost to a moan as he drags the flat of his tongue up your slit, tip of his tongue teasingly lingering around your entrance, and your hips buck into his touch, warm palms coming down to pin you in place against his desk.
You can barely stifle your moans, fingers flying up to press a hand over your mouth, as the tongue starts to flick and circle your clit, while a lithe finger teases your tight cunt, “I’m not one for sweets, but you may give me a sweet tooth,” and his lips close around your clit, sucking and licking, making your back arch, your arm behind you shaking as it struggled to keep your balance.
“Fuuuuck, Sugu, I—” you’re panting, head lolling back when he finally sinks a finger into your fluttering walls, the wet squelch of your cunt and your barely contained moans filling up the relative silence of his office, “please—” and a second finger joins the first, a smirk on his lips as he kisses your puffy clit again, a groan when he feels the way your walls clench around his fingers, knuckle deep.
“Gonna break my fingers at this rate, sweetheart,” he’s grunting, but even so he’s adding a third finger, the stretch far too delicious as it sends stripes of heat up and down your body and right to your spasming cunt, “what are you going to do when I put my cock inside? Our refresher lesson has barely begun,” and he’s enjoying this too much, and when his arms are hooking around your thighs, carefully lying you back on his desk, your hands slipping from his hair, and instead propping himself up on his elbows.
“Sugu, wh—” and your back arches as he begins to thrust deeper into your cunt, a strangled gasp on your lips that melts into a moan as his lips close around your clit. You can barely make out the obscene noises that leave your lips, as his fingers fuck you open, before he’s sucking hard — once, twice, and then a third time— “I’m—“
You can barely find the words before you’re cumming, walls squeezing and fluttering around his fingers while he fucks you through it, lapping at your juices, his name on your lips again and again, until you finally come down from your high. He pulls his fingers away from your twitching pussy, only to bury his face in between your thighs again.
“Fuuuck, Sugu—“ your moans are broken as your body arches into him, fingers finding purchase on his shoulders, sucking and licking your release eagerly, seemingly hellbent on tasting every inch of you.
Pretty moans fell from your mouth, muffled as you clasped your hand over your lips, “can’t waste a drop, sweetheart,” he’s slurping and sucking at your cunt, and god, if anyone walked by his office, they would surely hear you both — hear the nasty squelch of your pussy and your barely muffled moans.
How many times did you orgasm from his tongue alone? You had lost track. Each time he would bring you over the edge with the thrust of his tongue or the suck of his lips, and he would eat you out through it, only building to the next and then the next.
“Sugu, please, I’m close, fuck—“ and you can’t even hear your own broken voice, not over the lewd sounds of his mouth sucking at your pussy, the coil tight in your stomach and ready to snap, until another hard suck makes you cum, hard.
Your fingers find their way into his hair, clutching at him desperately as you squirt all over his face, drenching him along with his desk, wood sticky and soaked with your release. He’s lapping at your cunt, thighs twitching from your orgasm, until he’s finally pulling away to glance up at you with dark eyes, his chin and mouth glossy with your cum and his spit. His tongue darts out to clean both, before wiping the rest away with the back of his hand, glazed over gaze half lidded with need.
“S’good for me, Princess,” he’s pressing gentle kisses up your body, “so pliant, and yet you were so mouthy before,” and his lips kiss that mouth of yours, letting you taste yourself on his tongue, as he presses you further into the desk, his arm slinked around your back. And you’re pulling him just as close, hands grasping at the front of his button-up.
And then you’re pushing him back, forcing him into his chair, as you get to your feet, before sinking to your knees. His breath catches, eyes watching you — your disheveled appearance, hair half mussed, and skin shiny with sweat, “let me show you how mouthy I can be.”
“Imagine someone walked in now, see your pants down for your favorite student,” your tongue trailed up the underside of his clothed cock — and he could nearly cum looking down at you between his thighs, your kiss bitten lips pressing a sweet kiss to the head of his dick, thumbing at the leaking slit, licking your lips at the sight of the large stain of his precum on his cock, “Sugu, you’re so fucking big, can’t wait to feel this inside,” and his length twitches, a grunt in the back of his throat, as your fingers toy with the elastic of his boxers, snapping the waistband against his sensitive skin.
And god, he’s fucking pretty like this. Black locks falling in front of his perfectly sculpted cheekbones with a lovely flush settled over his features
“Fuck, sweetheart,” he’s panting, head nearly lolling back against the headrest of his chair, “gonna tease me after this long?” it’s half joking, half pleading, but you’re only clicking your tongue at him.
“You made me wait much longer, Suguru — made me cry too,” and his gaze softens, lips parted with an apology that fades into a hiss, as you free him from his boxers, erection slapping against his still clothed abs, “but now I’m going to make you cry,” you press a teasing kiss to his weeping tip, flushed red with need, letting his white pearly release paint your lips, “until you’re begging to cum,”
A strangled gasp caught in his throat, tracing the pretty veins and curves like it was made for you, “You’re so pretty, Sugu — all of this is for me?” Your fingers slowly stroking his length, his moaning music to your ears, as your other hand teasing his balls, “gonna cum down my throat already? Can’t cum this soon,” you cooed, his fingers digging into the armrests of his chair, and yet your fingers squeeze around his base, hips jerking into your touch.
“Princess, stop teasing—“ his protests had fallen on deaf ears, as you bring your pretty lips to his aching tip, only to trace his slit with the tip of his tongue, salty precum disappearing inside your mouth, and fuck, it’s enough for him to nearly cum there and then, “please,”
“Didn’t know you could be so polite, Sugu, when begging for your student to swallow your cock,” and finally you let his cock part past your lips, and his head falls back, eyes fluttering shut as your tongue swirls around his length. It was already too much for him — so much, just as you were, your tongue tracing and teasing his dick, while your lips sucked along the base.
And you weren’t doing much better, the weight of his cock against your tongue makes your cunt ache for him, and sneaking glances at his fucked out form — muffled moans of your name as he covers his lips with the back of his arm, as his dark gaze watches you sink his cock into your mouth again. Your hand is slipping into your throbbing pussy for some relief, as you bob up and down his length.
But he doesn’t miss it, a groan at the sight of you swallowing his dick whole whole riding your own hand, “Does fucking your mouth feel that good, Princess? Feel that good that you need to touch yourself?” And you’re moaning around his length, vibrations of sending shivers up his spine and a groan of your name from his lips, “So fucking good f’me, Princess — too good for me,” he’s grunting, as you let his tip brush the back of your throat now, making pleasure rip up his body, “sweetheart, please, g’nna fuck your throat if you keep that up,”
And you ease off, letting his cock slap against your tongue as it slips out, “maybe I want you, Sugu,” you’re kissing and licking along his length, “want you to fuck my smart little mouth,”
Fuck.
You’re sliding his cock back in, his hips jerking against you as you let him sink all the way in, tip brushing against your throat again. And fuck, the wet squelch of your fingers inside you breaks him, as he starts to give an experimental thrust, a light one that has you moaning around him. He’s gauging your reaction, only for you to force his length down more, barely not blowing his load there and then, as you look up at him, a smile in your eyes as if you’re daring him.
And he can’t hold back.
He’s fucking your mouth, your tongue massaging up and down his length as he thrusts inside your warm mouth, his nails digging into your locks as he holds you flush to his body. The sight of you on your knees, taking his dick as drool and pre drip down your chin, eyes nearly rolling back with pleasure as you do, making his cock twitch in your mouth.
“That feel that good, Princess? Wanted me to fuck this mouth that bad? I should do it more often if that’s what it takes.” he’s almost drunk off the pleasure, thrusts growing a little rougher as he grows close, “fuck, I’m close, baby, where—“ and your hands are sliding around to his lower back, holding him in place as your answer, “shit, sweetheart, you’re going to be the death of me,” and you suck around him as his tip hits the back of your throat again, and that’s it—
He spills, hot cum flooding your mouth and down your throat, as you both moan in unison, large spurts devolving into smaller ones, as he comes down from his high. You don’t waste a drop, swallowing every bit of it, as you finally pull away from his cock with a pop, the sight of your ruined lips with strings of spit and cum still connecting you to his dick is enough to have it twitching again.
“Sweetheart, you’re s’good to me,” he’s gently pulling you up into his lap, his fingers running through your hair. “I don’t deserve you. I don’t—“ and you’re cutting him off with a soft kiss that steals the words from his mind, your eyes shiny with tears.
“You do, you do because I choose you, because I love you, and I know you’re sorry,” you cup his cheek, before lightly pinching it, “and if you ever do anything that stupid again, I’m going to kill you and I’ll be ethically and morally justified,” and he chuckles, burying his face in the crook of your neck to press soft kisses to your skin, before pulling back to look up at you.
“You have my permission to do that, because if I ever leave my soulmate again — it’s only the consequences of my actions,” and he kisses your forehead, before he presses his to yours, “and I don’t want to live in a world where you’re not by my side,”
You kiss him slowly, wrapping your arms around him, slowly heat building as the head of his cock bumps against the length of your cunt — the sparks grow into flames, threatening to engulf you both. And you would let them if only for one more second of his touch.
“Sugu, please, I need you,” you murmur, breathing in his pants as your noses bump, “need you inside me,” he cups your cheek, meeting in another kiss, before you’re lining yourself up, weeping cock bumping against your needy entrance.
“Are you ready?” You ask, and it’s for more than just this moment, it’s for everything that comes after — for every second that you both get to live together, “our phones are off right?”
He snorts, “I turned it off when you entered my office,” and you laugh, shaking his head, as he places a kiss behind your ear.
“I did the same before I came in,” his fingers cup your cheek, as you lean into his warm palm, “just you and me?” You echo from your first time together, and his lips curl into the softest smile.
“You and me, sweetheart,” and you’re sinking onto him, tip parting your spread folds as your walls swallow him whole, inch by inch, and his fingers grasp at your hips, helping you ease onto his cock, pretty lips parted with a quiet murmur of your name.
And when he finally bottoms out inside you, he’s almost forgotten how good it felt — pleasure ripping up his spine as your hips are pressed flush to the other, “So deep, Sugu, fuck,” your walls are fluttering around him pulling even deeper, clamping down as if he groans, “I’m gonna move,” you manage between pants.
You lift up to the tip before slowly beginning to bounce up and down, your moans filling his ears along with the squeaks and rattling of his computer chair. His eyes flutter open only to watch your breasts bounce up and down as you ride him, his hands reaching out to squeeze at the pillowy flesh, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips.
“S’big, fuck, Sugu,” you’re moaning, a mess as you fucked yourself on him, but still not quite deep enough, and he begins to meet your thrusts with his own, making you fall forward holding onto him with a whine as he fucks up into you. The sounds of his balls slapping against your needy cunt ring in your ears, the grunts your pussy pulls from his mouth as he drives himself impossibly deep, “ngh, Sugu, fuck, s’good—,” you’re whining, back arching into his touch, nails digging into his shoulders, “please,”
“That’s it, take my cock, pretty girl,” he murmurs, “so good for me. So tight, never going to leave this cunt at this rate, baby—“
And then they hear a door creak open and close nearby, freezing as they do, heart thumping against your ribs, but your wall flutters all the same, “think they’ll see us like this?” He teases, and his cock twitches in your cunt, “spread out and fucked by your former professor’s cock?” And you know he’s only goading you as the footsteps depart, but your walls squeeze at the thought, “want them to see how good you are for me? How well I’ve taught you to take this cock?”
And he begins to fuck into you again, pistoning up into you, drawing more moans from your lips. He had taught you every inch and curve and vein of his dick, but this refresher would make sure you’d never forget.
“Sugu, I’m close, I-“ and his hand is slipping between your bodies to rub at his clit right as his cock hits that spot that has you seeing stars as you cum hard around his cock. He watches the place your bodies meet, a white ring of cum around the base of his cock as your walls flutter around him.
He fucks you through your orgasm, hips stuttering as he twitches inside you, “fuck, sweetheart, where should I—“ and you’re moaning as you manage to meet his thrust to notch him even deeper as he finally cums.
His thick ropes paints your walls, as he rocks against you slowly, forcing his cum deeper and deeper, your name leaving your lips again and again — reverent whispers and promises muttered in your ear, as he finally stills underneath you.
You’re leaning against him, mixed releases surely leaking onto his lap and the chair, both of your quiet pants filling the silence, until he’s breaking it. He kisses your lips again and again, before he stares at you — kiss bruised lips and the pretty sheen of sweat that clings to your skin, “It’s not fair you’re this perfect,” he murmurs, a thumb dragging down your lips, “how would I have ever resisted you?”
“Luckily, the universe did that for us,” and he huffs a chuckle, “and you,” you add in a small whisper, and he frowns, nodding.
“I did and I never will again, I promise, sweetheart,” he’s pressing sweet kisses to your burning skin, pulling you impossibly closer to him, your face buried in the crook of his neck, “I’m yours — yours to keep, yours to use, yours to love — you have my heart and my soul,” he’s cupping your cheek when you lift your head, “and I’ll never let go, because you’re the only answer to life I need, if you’ll allow to be yours,”
“You were always mine,” your forehead pressed to his, “that’s never changed, and it never will,”
“You always one up me, don’t you?” And you roll your eyes.
“The student has to surpass the master someday, doesn’t she?” his lips curl.
“Oh you’ve done that a long time ago, Princess,” his lips graze yours again and again, and soon enough you’re shifting on his lap, until the chair buckles under the weight and the seat travels to the bottom of where it’s wheels rested. The two of you are silent a moment, before a giggle escapes your lips, “I think you’ll have to get a new chair,” you murmur, and he’s chuckling, burying his face in the crook of your neck.
“Why not the chair and the desk?” And you’re blinking before he’s lifting you up, before making you turn, pressing your front flush against the wood of the desk, “and if I’m getting new furniture, I might as well use this to its full capacity, shouldn’t I?” And he’s dragging his erection across your ass, “really make sure it’s broken,”
You gasp, walls fluttering as his tip teased your messy entrance, “don’t you need broken in—“ and he bottoms out in one thrust, as he presses his body against yours, lips pressing a kiss to the back of your neck, before his teeth dig into the sensitive flesh.
And he smirks as he hears you moan under him, as he soothes the blooming hickey with his tongue, “No, I meant broken, sweetheart.”
“Suguru!” You called from his bedroom, as he smoothed his hair out in the bathroom mirror, a glance over his shoulder at the sound of your voice, “can you come help me?”
And how could he refuse? He steps out of the bathroom to only find you struggling with your Hakama. The formal garment hangs uselessly around your front, your brow furrowed and lips pursed.
He suppresses his laugh, forcing his tone to be even.
“Does my incredibly brilliant girlfriend need help with her hood?” Your pout is enough for him to nearly break his promise that he wouldn’t kiss you when your makeup was done, but he doesn’t. Instead he takes the offending garment from around your neck, and you cross your arms.
“I can handle reading Hegel’s works — The Phenomenology of Spirit was irritating but doable,” and you scowl at the Hakama in his hand, “but that thing was made to torture,”
He snorts, “Consider it your last trial before graduation,”
“No, my last is seeing if my thesis was peer reviewed and accepted for publication somewhere,” you sigh, “I still have to make the edits—“
“That can be a later problem, just focus on the moment right now,” he steps behind you after adjusting the Hakama and tying it around the back and front to secure it, before pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “and now you look both beautiful and properly dressed,”
His arms wrap around your waist from behind, “Sugu, we have to leave soon,”
“Just a minute, just let this sink in,” he kisses the side of your neck, “have I told you how proud I am of you?”
“Hmm, just about every second of the last few days,” you lean against him, and nothing ever felt so perfect — his arms were the only ones you belonged in.
And yet, why did that thought also hurt?
“What is iy, baby?” Suguru murmurs, ever too perceptive as always, “something on your mind,”
“More like someone,” you mumble, and you’re laying your head against his shoulder, “I can’t help but feel guilty — Yuta and I just broke up and I’m—“ you’re shaking your head, “I’m so happy, and I hate myself for it,”
Suguru frowns, “I don’t know Yuta well, but I know he did love you, the same way I do, and I can’t speak for him,” but then he’s squeezing your middle, “but as someone who loves you, I’d want you to be with someone who could make could make you happy,” you kiss his head, “and isn’t that why he broke up with you? You both deserve that chance — even if it’s not each other.”
“When did you get so smart?” and he pulls you impossibly closer, kissing along the neckline of your kimono.
“Somewhere between my bachelor’s degree and being your professor,” he adds with his lips curled in a smirk, “though I’d err closer to the time of being your professor,”
Your head against his shoulder, you lean up for a kiss, as he blinks, before melting into your touch, as you pull back with a grin, “it’s ok if I initiate the kiss,” you chuckle when you catch sight of his pout, “don’t worry I’ll be giving you plenty after the ceremony — and maybe something even more than a kiss,”
“Is that a promise?” And you tug him close, pressing another kiss to his lips — your lips were already smudged, so why hold back.
“Always, for you.”
Yuta knew it was for the best.
It had been a few weeks that he spent mourning his relationship — but he knew that it was the right choice for him. He had chased after you, it felt as if he was dogging your every step, waiting for you to notice him. And when you did, he still felt as he was your second choice — and that he would live in Geto’s shadow for the entirety of the relationship.
And he didn’t want that. He didn’t deserve that — and neither did you. More than anything, he wanted you to be happy — even if that wasn’t with him.
It was for the best.
And the start to the new semester just proved that. He was starting his final year of his program, he had become the head of the student government (after Maki decided to step down to a more administrative role to focus on her degree), and he had even become a teacher’s assistant to one of his favorite professors. He didn’t have time to focus on a relationship, not when he should be focusing on his future.
He entered the classroom that day, a little early on his professor’s request to set up the classroom with handouts, only to bump into someone, papers spilling from his hands.
“Sorry, I—” he leans down to pick up the dropped papers, before glancing up and finds himself looking at just that—
His future.
A few months later.
“You’re late,” Suguru Geto remarks, as he shows you his watch on his wrist — the very one you had bought him for his birthday a few weeks before, “but I should expect that by now, shouldn’t I?”
You give a guilty grin, as you find your way to his side, sliding your hands up around his neck, “Yes you should, especially when your girlfriend is a very important lecturer who was kept by all her students — jealous?”
And he chuckles, his hair tied up in a half bun as usual, your fingers toying with a strand again, before he’s lacing with fingers with yours to press a kiss to the back of your hand, “Very — because your students are stealing my time with my very intellectual girlfriend,” and he leans down to press a kiss to the hollow of your throat, “it sounds like it was a success — I knew it would be,” he adds, “but someone else wasn’t so sure,”
You roll your eyes playfully, “Yes, yes, you were right — the students found my work interesting, or at least interesting enough not to fall asleep and ask questions—”
“High praise,” and your lips curl into a smile, “What?”
“I love you,” he grins back at you, a chuckle on his lips, as he leans down to capture them, his smile apparent against you, as he parts from you, a heat still present in the pit of your stomach, a need for him burning as it always was, “I love you so much, Suguru,”
“I love you too, princess,” he’s rubbing his thumb back and forth against the length of your cheek, “Good thing too because otherwise, moving in together would be more than a little awkward,” and you pout, and he’s laughing before kissing you again and again, until he’s kissing your pout away with a languid kiss that has you melting into his grasp — breathless when he pulls away, lips utterly kiss ruined and red, “they should be calling us into the viewing soon,” he bites his lip,and you’re nodding reluctantly if only considering whether if you could sway him for another few moments alone. Instead you settle for burying your face in the crook of his neck, lips brushing against his leaping pulse, “you’re sure about moving to Kyoto? I had only chosen Kyoto to give you space—”
You cut him off with a glance up and a raised eyebrow, “You’re the one who said I could choose, and I chose Kyoto because not only is it a good opportunity for you here to build your reputation as the department head, but because it’s a fresh start for us,”
His fingers lace with yours, “Well if they keep asking you to lecture in Tokyo, you might develop a commute,” and you roll your eyes, before shrugging.
“I can handle it,” you squeeze his hand, “as long as I'm coming home to you.”
“And a cat or a poodle,”and you light up, grinning even wider, “we should ask if they allow pets,”
“Really? We can—”
“I heard poodles are a good choice of pet,” and you’re leaning up to kiss him, arms wrapping around his neck, “I made an appointment for at an adoption center after this,”
“Mr. Geto?” a person comes out of the leasing office, “we’re ready for you both,”
And you pull away, your fingers interlacing with yours and squeezing his hand, “Are you ready?”
His lips curl in a smile, “I think we owe it to ourselves, don’t we? Especially they agreed to take us for our viewing after you were late,”
And you chuckle, as the two of you made your way inside, “I swear you’re going to leave without me one of these days if I’m late enough,”
“No, I’d never do that. I’ll always wait for you, sweetheart,” he holds the door open for you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “we have all the time in the world after all.” And you grin at him as you walk past him, his fingers reaching into his pocket.
He had found out his answer to life — watching you greet and speak with the agent, before glancing back at him with a small smile and tilt of your head — his fingers toy with the ring box in his pocket—
And now he just needed to know yours.
END.
Yuta’s own love story will be coming after Professor Gojo’s!
✧a/n: wow i'm still in disbelief i finished this series. this is my first series on tumblr, and i truly hope you all enjoyed. this part was wayyyy longer than i expected. but i hope i did the series justice.
✧ taglist: @hatsunemitskislobotomy, @difficultdomains, @diogodxlot, @that-goth-bisexual, @dazailover1900, @aliyalala @ashhlsstuff , @blue041803 , @mwtsxri , @bblgumfairy , @sukunasleftkneecap , @xo-evangeline , @fiannee , @teatreeoilll , @chalametet , @ryukaver , @d1gitalbathh , @saga3ious , @seventhcinema , @satosugucide , @your-l0nely-star , @sokkasmoon , @deegausserr , @hyookka , @oggsyy , @littlebitb , @higuchislut , @ti-mame , @itoshisins , @cerene-dipity , @onionsoop , @sinlillith , @izzythenaive , @lalacute03 , @rxndou , @c-themoon , @xxrag-d0llxx , @hqtoge , @sugarxlumps , @hopeluna , @actualdeemon , @enchantedpendant , @serendididy , @soulstealercat , @neuviloved , @simply-a-s1mp , @satorusmochis , @lalacute03
#sab [mlist]#sab series [prof suguru]#suguru geto x reader#suguru geto smut#geto suguru x reader#geto suguru fanfiction#suguru geto fanfiction#geto x reader#geto smut#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#suguru geto x you#suguru x reader
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coworker James being protective of reader like she’s just a sweet and kind thing and he’s FINALLY accepting his feelings and reader gets like happy that he cares?
“No, no, it’s okay. Yeah, don’t worry about me, I’m just gonna watch movies all weekend. I might make popcorn. Yeah! Don’t worry about it, just have fun, okay?”
You’re talking quietly but not without pep, hushed to avoid disturbing him. By the sounds of it, your plans for the weekend have bombed. You’re taking it remarkably well.
“Okie dokie. Well, I’ll see you soon, yeah? Love you. Bye.” You don’t lift your head where you’re laying against the desk, but you put your phone gently by your keyboard.
“That blows,” James says.
“Maybe.” You turn your face to see him, before you lift yourself up and return to the pack of biscuits you’ve opened. “Do you want some?” you ask, bringing a malted milk to your mouth.
“Please.”
You gesture for him to take one. In relative quiet, you and James sit there chewing, the sunlight from the open window on your hands.
“You’re not upset about your plans?” he asks.
“A bit, but… I don’t want her to feel bad for me. She should have a good time, she got last minute tickets to see a band and she loves them. We can just hang out next weekend.” You push the biscuits toward him. “I need to stop eating these all the time.”
You stand up and do a big stretch, arm arched over your head before you laugh and point at him. He’s never had someone look at him like this. “Pretend you didn’t see that,” you say, raising your eyebrows just a touch.
You’re being playful. James’ stomach flips. “I didn’t see a thing,” he says.
You drop your pointing. “Really?”
He covers his eyes.
Your following laughter is even richer.
“This office makes me tired. I’m going to make some coffee before lunch is over,” you say.
You walk away like nothing happened. James is left to ruminate.
He pushes a hand into the crop of his hair and ruffles it, stressed, though the scratch of his nails against his scalp relieves some tension. James is used to being annoyed at you, you were always so irked with him, but lately he struggles to find anger for you. He still loves to tease you and watch your eyes change; there’s no better moments than on the mornings he’s here first and he’s found a new hiding place for your mug, and you’re forced to ask him where it is he put it. Asked is kind, really. More aptly, you demand to know where it is, and promise professional retribution.
You could always drink from a different mug, but James has a feeling you like asking. This morning, you found it by yourself, and you put it smugly on your desk with steam rising from the surface. “You’re getting worse,”
you’d said, and that smugness suddenly felt friendly. Your smile was ten different shades of sweet.
You are… quite sweet. You’re kind. You don’t let much upset you that isn’t James, even when it should. And the James stuff is all superficial. When was the last time you guys argued over something that mattered?
Which isn’t to say he doesn’t love arguing with you. But he’s coming to appreciate another side of you, the side that comes back to your desk with a fresh coffee and little happy breath of air when you see he’s made his two figurines cuddle each other.
“They’re in love,” you say dreamily.
“You can be so lovely,” James says. It’s like something takes over his body.
You put your coffee down. “What?” you ask, smiling as though it’s a joke you don’t get.
He’s not sure he should say it again. “I don’t know. When you smile, you’re really pretty. Like, even more than usual.”
“Ha-ha.”
“No, I’m serious.”
“I don’t believe you.”
James takes one of your biscuits. “Then don’t, it doesn’t bother me.” He wishes he hadn’t said it, what a weird thing to say, but he can’t pretend he was kidding, it would be crueller than saying nothing. So he wedges a biscuit in his mouth and laughs when you call him gross, your facade one he doesn’t believe. You wrinkle your nose, but you’re happy underneath it.
Lovely, even.
#james potter#james potter x reader#james potter x fem!reader#james potter x y/n#james potter x you#james potter fic#james potter fluff#james potter blurb#james potter drabble#james potter imagine#james potter fanfic#james potter fanfiction#james potter scenario#james potter oneshot#the marauders#marauders era#marauders
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home is wherever you are
pairing: charles leclerc x reader
summary: secretly falling in love with your best friend is tough. secretly falling in love with your best friend who also happens to be your roommate is even less than ideal. the solution? move out! (hint: it isn’t a very good one.) (5k)
warnings: angst with a happy ending, a smidge of google translated french lol
a/n: CHARLES LECLERC!!! CHARLES LECLERC!!!!LECLERC!!! LECLERAUGHCOUGHCOUGH
“I still cannot believe you’re abandoning me.”
Charles shoved another box of your things into the boot of your car rather huffily, as if to reiterate just how unhappy he was.
“I’m not abandoning you, I’m moving out of your apartment.” You sighed, rolling your eyes playfully at him. You passed him the last box off the ground, wiping your hands off on your shorts before propping them on your hips.
“That is quite literally the same thing.” He mirrored your stance in total seriousness, frown unwavering. “And it’s not my apartment, it’s yours now too. Your home.”
You’d been living with Charles for a while now, having been suddenly evicted from your own place three, almost four years ago. With nowhere else to go, you’d turned to your best friend, and Charles had welcomed you with open arms, giving you a home when you’d needed it most.
There were many good things about living with Charles—he liked to cook (which boded well with you, seeing as you were no master chef yourself. Except for when he’d gone through a questionable phase of combining cuisines that did not go well together.), he was respectful of set boundaries and agreed upon rules. You had the same taste in shows and movies, which made for little fighting when it came to deciding on what to watch.
But most notably, he loved to play the piano. It was a hobby he’d picked up during long days spent staying at home, and he was good at it too. An electronic keyboard when he’d first started out, just to see if it was something he was serious about, but as he zoomed through the basics with ease, he’d splurged on a gorgeous white piano that stood proudly in the living room.
Soon enough, it wasn’t unusual for the apartment to be full of music, beautiful songs of Charles’ own composing.
He played whenever he had the feeling. Whenever he had something on his mind, whenever he was bored, anything, he’d spend hours at the piano, playing, playing, playing. Some might’ve called it annoying, but not you. You found it rather soothing.
It had very quickly become a habit of yours to fall asleep listening to Charles play. Something about it seemed to always relax you just enough to the point where you could pretty much fall asleep anywhere if he was at the bench.
Your favorite spot was on the sofa with a big blanket, watching him get lost in the notes until you drifted off. More often than not, you could rarely get a good night’s sleep without Charles’ accompaniment—your very own version of white noise.
But truth be told, this past year of living together with Charles had been trickier than the first couple. You couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment things began to change, but something had definitely shifted between you.
You’d been trying to write it off just the two of you being very close, but you’d been dancing on the line of close friends and more than friends for a long time. Falling asleep together cuddled on the sofa, lingering touches whilst you were in the same room and in passing, hugs that lasted a little too long to be considered normal.
The more your feelings for Charles grew, the more worried you became. Worried about what, you weren’t exactly sure. All you knew was you didn’t want to lose the longest and best friendship you’d ever had because you went and fell in love.
“I know. But I think it’s well past time I get out of your hair and try being on my own for once.” You said softly, stepping in to fold yourself into Charles’ arms.
Most of that was true. You did feel like you needed to live by yourself for a chance, to see what it was like to be fully independent in your adult life. You’d moved in with Charles when you were twenty two, and you were twenty five now. It was time for you to venture out on your own.
But the uncertainty of falling in love with your best friend was definitely also a contributing factor.
He made a displeased sound at your words, but tucked you under his chin nonetheless. “I don’t want you to get out of my hair. My hair likes it with you here.”
“I live fifteen minutes away, Cha. I’m not moving across the country. You and your hair can come over anytime.” You scoffed, giving him a gentle poke in the ribs. “And I’ll come over here all the time too, you know that.”
“Fine, fine. I don’t know what I am supposed to do with your empty room now, but I’ll figure it out. Maybe I will take up scrapbooking. Knitting. Needlepoint, maybe. Turn it into a craft room.”
“Maybe you can turn it into a music room. Move the keyboard in there, your piano.”
“Ah, bien entendu, my piano. How will you ever fall asleep without my sweet, sweet melodies?”
“I think I will manage just fine.” You chuckled.
Charles held you at arms’ length, dark brows furrowing as he scowled. “What I’m hearing is you don’t love me anymore.”
Oh, if only he knew.
You smiled instead, patting his cheek good-naturedly. “Come on, you drama queen. I want to move in before the sun goes down.”
Charles went full protection mode the second all your belongings had made it safely inside the apartment, intently checking every lock, window, door hinge, cabinet—not an inch of the apartment went uninspected by him. When he seemed fairly satisfied with his safety checks, he returned to where you were unpacking kitchen items over by the oven.
“Everything up to your standards?” You asked, pulling out a stack of plates wrapped in brown paper. Charles shuffled over, easing them out of your hands and unwrapping them to help put them up in the cabinet. “No one is going to break in through my window tonight?”
“Don’t even joke about that.” He grumbled, chucking the balled up paper at you gently. “Everything I checked is fine. You will be safe here.”
Food was simple when it came time for dinner—takeout on the floor of your living room, because you hadn’t had the time to go shopping for a coffee table yet. Or a dining room table. Or even chairs, really. All you had were some pillows and an overturned cardboard box to put the food on.
Charles had insisted on helping you furnish the whole place before you moved in but you’d declined, saying that you wanted to get a feel for the place before filling it with everything. The last time it would be this empty would be the day you moved out.
He seemed a little quiet the rest of the night, but you didn’t press it until after dinner, whilst he was helping you with the washing up. Well, helping was a strong word.
“You’ve been drying that plate for ages now.” You observed, tilting your head at him thoughtfully. Charles inhaled sharply, shaking his head like he’d been snapped out of a stupor. He glanced down at the completely dry plate, then back up at you blankly. “What’re you thinking about?”
“You’re really going to be gone.”
“You say that like I told you I’ve only got days to live. I won’t be gone, Cha. I’ll be around.” You chuckled, flicking dish soap bubbles in his direction. Charles responded by flinging his towel at you, cracking a smile. You liked it when he smiled, hated it when he frowned. He was still unfairly attractive, but it wasn’t Charles’ scowl that made you fall in love with him.
“We can spend the day together anytime, you can come over whenever you want, and if it makes you feel any better, I will give you your very own key.”
That seemed to put him a little more in higher spirits.
“What will you ever do without me?” He wondered out loud, feigning a thoughtful expression.
“Probably clean up a lot less. Be able to take a shower without running out of hot water halfway through. Oh! Have a bottle of shampoo last more than a month because someone—not naming names, of course, won’t use it because they’ve run out of theirs. Not have to fight for—”
“Alright, alright, I get it!” Charles huffed, grabbing you by the shoulders and promptly shoving your face into his chest to stop you from talking.
You grinned against the softness of his hoodie. “Shall I go on?”
“No, no you shouldn’t.” His hold on you loosened, but you stayed right where you were, wrapping your arms around his torso. “Just admit it. You’ll miss me.”
“I will miss you.” You said softly, pressing your cheek into the crook of his neck. If there was something Charles was unbelievably good at (besides literally anything he’d ever tried), it was giving the best hugs. Something about them made you feel safe, like nothing and nobody could ever hurt you as long as you were in his arms.
“You already know how much I’m going to miss having you around.”
“Yeah, I am pretty great.”
A laugh rumbled through his chest. “You are.”
“You’ve been the best roommate I could’ve asked for. Thank you for everything.” Your words were muffled between the two of you, and you were glad for it, because he didn’t seem to notice the waver in your tone. But he did squeeze you a little tighter, so maybe he did hear you. “I love you, Cha.”
Charles’ voice seemed to waver just a bit too. “I love you too.”
“Okay, okay, you really need to leave. Go before I change my mind and make you stay.” You blurted, pushing him away playfully. It was better than letting him see you get emotional.
“Is that a promise?”
“No, it’s a threat. Go home. I will see you soon.” You gave his hand one last squeeze, nodding reassuringly to rid him of the crease between his brows. “Don’t worry about me. Go, get some rest.”
It was only then that he seemed satisfied enough to leave, but even then, he cast another backwards glance towards you on his way down the hall, as if he was waiting for you to beckon him back. You just smiled as best you could.
You’d get over it. You had to. There was still a lot you needed to get done before you called it a night.
It wasn’t until you were getting ready to go to bed that you started to feel lonely. You and Charles had your respective bedtime routines, but they always intertwined.
You never liked being the one to turn off all the lights in the apartment because the switch was at the end of the hallway opposite from your bedrooms, so he knew to do it because you hated running back through the darkness after flipping the switch.
He always filled a glass with water for late night sipping, but never remembered to actually bring it to his room until he was already in bed, so you always grabbed it for him so he wouldn’t have to make the trek back out the kitchen.
The bathroom counter was where you’d find each other the most, terrible jokes and funny stories told muffled through toothpaste bubbles, even though you could’ve just waited until you were finished to tell each other. You’d flick water at him as you washed your face because he took up too much space at the sink, he’d turn off the tap in retaliation, things like that.
Sometimes Charles would stay up later playing video games with his friends, or take some extra time to practice piano, so you wouldn’t get to do your well oiled machine routine, but he’d always take the extra second to pop into your room to say goodnight when he heard you bustling around, even if he was in the middle of something.
The times you fell asleep on the sofa to Charles’ playing the piano, he’d camp out at the other end of the sofa for the night, or at the very least made sure you were covered with a blanket if he went to sleep in his own room.
It was something you’d grown accustomed to over the years, oftentimes the well-needed end to a not so great day. Charles never failed to put a smile on your face, even with something as small and mundane as a bedtime routine.
But there was none of that as you ran through your routine this time.
You didn’t hear him shuffling around over in the other room, the muffled sounds of his shouts as he played his games, and most of all, you didn’t hear him and his piano.
Because there was no Charles. Of course there wasn’t. You were in this new place that you hadn’t had quite nearly enough of a chance to get used to yet, alone, and it was finally settling in.
Suddenly moving out and away from him seemed like the worst decision in the world.
You knew it was only the first night. You had to give yourself a chance to reacclimate, and that would take time. So you inhaled a deep breath, trying to get as comfy as you could for a long, probably sleepless night ahead.
It was nearing four in the morning when you finally decided to give up and call Charles. Part of you thought he might not even pick up the phone, because he was probably asleep. Any sane person would be sleeping right now.
Much to your surprise, he answered on the second ring.
“Why are you awake?” You asked, maybe a bit harshly.
“Um, you are the one who called me? Why are you awake?” He replied, groggy voice still teasing. His accent always grew thicker when he was sleepy. You thought it was adorable. “You cannot sleep, can you?”
“...No.” Your voice grew smaller. You felt embarrassed at the fact that you couldn’t even make it one full night without Charles around. “I just…I wanted to hear your voice, I guess. I miss you already, Cha.”
Charles fell silent for a few moments, the only sound on his side of the line being his gentle exhales. “I miss you too. Do you want me to come over? I can stay the night, if you want.”
“No. No, you don’t need to do that.” You said softly. “Can you just talk to me?”
This was also something that had become somewhat of a ritual when either of you couldn’t sleep.
You’d tiptoe into each other’s rooms quiet as a mouse, slipping into bed beside the other. Charles always stirred when he felt the bed dip under your weight, half asleep but still reaching out to pull you against his chest like it was second nature. On the occasions when he came into your room, you’d feel him tuck himself close to you, nosing against any part of you he could find with a content sigh.
There was no rhyme or reason to the things you’d talk about in those moments, but eventually, somehow, you’d both end up asleep, usually fairly quickly. Maybe it was the extra added comfort of each other that helped, you could never tell.
It wasn’t unusual to wake up a jumble of limbs tangled together, and neither of you ever addressed it either. Just went on with your business as usual, never talking about it because it was just something you did. To help each other sleep, of course.
Another thing that really blurred the line between friends and more.
Charles hummed a noncommittal sound, soft and fond like he always was around you. “I’ll do you one better. How about I play some music for you?”
“Yes, please. Thank you.” You sighed, relieved. He knew what you needed without you even having to ask.
You heard him get up, footsteps padding along until there was a thud and some shuffling coming from Charles’ side. A few warm up scales in and you were already feeling a little less anxious, letting yourself get comfortable.
“Any requests from the audience?”
“Been working on anything new?” You yawned, nuzzling a little deeper back into your pillow.
“I have, actually. It’s still—fuck, how do you say it…a work in progress?”
“Anything you play is perfect.”
“You flatter me.” He snorted. “Alright, here goes nothing.”
He began to play. You knew jack shit about music, so there wasn’t much you could think of to describe how it sounded, but you could describe how it felt. You could almost feel the emotion pouring from his playing, even through the scratchy quality of the speaker.
It felt like something you’d hear in the background of a movie montage, lilting and delicate and warm notes swirling together to create a bright melody, and you couldn’t help but let your mind wander.
Memories of good times with Charles flashed through your head—all the long days and even longer nights you’d spent together because you thrived in each other’s company, cooking together, binging Netflix shows until you both passed out on the sofa.
Hushed laughing during dinners at fancy restaurants that Charles could get into by flashing his name, soft conversations accompanied with expensive food and even more expensive wine.
Day trips up the coast with the top down on the car, pushing the speed limit just to feel an ounce of the freedom that it could give you. Walking through Monte Carlo on late night gelato runs, switching flavors because you both enjoyed each other’s choice more than your own.
Most of all, you thought of the love you felt for Charles, ever since you’d first met him. You’d never been one to believe in the concept of soulmates, but fuck, it was so easy to think of him as yours. Never had you felt as much for someone as you did for him.
God, why were you even thinking of those things?
It would never happen. Any love that Charles had for you would be strictly platonic, limited to however much one could love their best friend.
Surely he’d drawn inspiration from something else when he’d composed the beautiful piece. You weren’t sure if you wanted to know.
Soon enough, you’d drifted off like you always did when Charles played, coincidentally right before he came to a lingering stop.
Had you been awake, you would’ve heard him say that the beautiful piece had been inspired by you. Instead you were fast asleep, still none the wiser to anything. Maybe it was a good thing. You might not have believed it if you’d heard him.
-------
Charles was on your doorstep first thing in the morning, coffee and pastries in hand when you opened the door for him.
“Hello, good morning, your savior is here. And with breakfast!” He chirped, coming to just enough of a halt for you to slide an arm around his shoulders in a hug and grab one of the drinks out of the tray before he swept past you.
Bright morning sunlight poured into the open area, washing the whole place aglow. A warm breeze floated in through the ajar window, rattling the shutters only slightly, and you could hear the all too familiar sounds of the city in the morning coming from the streets below. It was a gorgeous picture of peace; one of the apartment’s many fun quirks that convinced you to go for it in the first place.
The only thing that might’ve rivaled the beauty of the moment was Charles standing at the window, leaning against the sill drinking his coffee while the breeze ruffled his hair. His back was to you as he checked out the view, but even the mere image of him here was nice.
You sipped your own coffee, smiling to yourself when you realized Charles remembered exactly how you took it. You didn’t even need to look inside the bag to know they were your favorite pastries from the bakery down the street from your former apartment that both you and Charles loved. He was always thoughtful like that. Things like remembering your favorite foods and drinks, and going out of his way to get them as a little pick-me-up.
It seemed wrong to ruin the moment, but you felt like you had to say something.
“I’m sorry for waking you up last night.” You sighed, taking a cross-legged seat on a pillow.
Charles turned away from the window, shaking his head quickly. He took a seat on the floor next to you, long legs stretching out towards your crossed ones to nudge a sneaker against your socked foot. “There’s nothing to be sorry about, I’m glad you called me.”
“Right, but it’s kind of pathetic, isn’t it? First time on my own and I didn’t even last a whole night.”
“Not pathetic.” He insisted, entirely firm in his words. He set his cup down as if it could strengthen his point. “It is a change, definitely. You can’t expect yourself to get used to such a big change immediately. It takes time, you know.”
You messed with the lid of your cup, picking at the plastic with a scowl. “I know. But I can’t always come running to you whenever I need help. It’s not fair to you to have to keep rescuing me every time I need saving.”
“Okay…” He trailed off, stretching out the last syllable in confusion. “I feel this is about something more than just last night. We can talk about it, if you would like?”
“I don’t know what it is.” You huffed. “I thought I was ready to be on my own, but maybe I’m not. Maybe I don’t know I’m doing and I’ll never figure it out, and—”
“Whoa, whoa, slow down. Where is this all coming from?”
“I don’t know,” You repeated, bordering on a whine. “But what I do know is that I can’t always keep relying on you for everything. It’s not good for me, or for you.”
“You know, you could always just move back home if you’re truly not ready to do things on your own.” Charles offered, taking a casual sip of his own drink.
Home. He said it so casually, like home was with him instead of this new place you’d chosen to make yours. In a way, Charles was your home. Safety, comfort, love—all the things that made something home, you felt with him.
That was the problem. You didn’t feel right relying on him for all those things, not without him being aware of how you actually felt about him. It seemed like too much of a burden to put on a friend, even one as perfect as Charles.
His eyes met yours over the rim and he shrugged. “I still don’t know why you were so insistent on moving out in the first place.”
You sighed, again. There weren’t many ways you could make yourself any clearer. Other than telling Charles one of the real reasons why you had to leave, which again, was more of a last resort (hopefully not at all) type of thing. “It was time—”
“It was time for you to venture out on your own, yes, I know. But it doesn’t seem to be working out so well right now, does it not?” The last sentence seemed to slip out of Charles’ mouth before he knew what he was saying, because his mouth snapped shut right afterward. “I’m—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. I don’t want to argue.”
But what had been done was done, what had been said was out there for you to know. Your coffee suddenly left a bitter taste in your mouth, and the traffic from outside became glaringly loud. The once peaceful atmosphere had been shattered now that you knew Charles’ true thoughts on it all.
You stood up, letting your feet take you across the room from him. “No. Tell me more, Charles. Tell me how you really feel.”
His nose wrinkled at the use of his full name. You never called him Charles unless you were upset with him, which wasn’t that often. Even hearing it come out of your own mouth seemed foreign.
That seemed to change his reaction, because he stood too instead, doubling down on his words. “Okay. Yes, that is how I feel about you leaving. You barely even talked to me about it, and the next thing I knew, you were packing all your things into boxes! I didn’t understand where this—this sudden desire to leave came from. I still don’t.”
“You don’t have to understand it. It’s already done.”
“Did I—did I do something wrong?”
You almost faltered. Almost.
“Did you ever think maybe me wanting to leave had nothing to do with you?”
“Honestly? No. It feels like it has everything to do with me. It feels like you moved out because you didn’t want to be around me anymore!” Charles exclaimed. “And I have kept my mouth shut, I’ve been trying to be supportive of your decision, but I think I have a right to know. Am I why you wanted to leave so badly?”
“That’s…part of it.” You admitted. Charles froze, brows flying up towards his hairline. “But not because of anything you did. Not because of the reason you’re thinking of.”
“I don’t really see any other explanation. And I am sorry, but that is a shit excuse. I would’ve thought that you of all people would tell me the truth.” He didn’t sound angry, just disappointed and a little hurt. Somehow that felt worse. You’d rather him be mad at you than hurt by you.
“I didn’t want to move out.” You said firmly.
“Then why did you?”
“I had to! I—I couldn’t live there anymore.”
“But why?” He sounded desperate, begging for you to clue him in to any reason, anything at all that would help him understand. And god, as scared as you were of changing things by telling Charles how you really felt about him, you were infinitely more scared of losing him for good if you didn’t.
“Because I’m fucking in love with you, Charles!” You blurted, finally. “I couldn’t live with you any longer, keeping this huge secret all the time, because it truly made me feel like I was about to explode. I just couldn’t do it anymore—pretend like everything was alright when every time I looked at you, all I could think about was how I felt about you! How much I felt for you.” Your voice rose with every word, emotion lacing your tone.
You could feel the tears burning your eyes, threatening to fall no matter how much you willed them not to. “I just thought, maybe if we lived apart, if we didn’t see each other all the time, maybe those feelings would go away.”
Charles blinked at you slowly. He scrubbed a hand over his cheek, across his mouth, letting it disappear into the neckline of his hoodie as he continued the motion near his jaw. Still, he said nothing. You weren’t sure if it was a good sign or a bad one, but still you continued.
“So no, it wasn’t because of anything you did. Or maybe it was, for making it so fucking easy to fall in love with you. I don’t know. I’m sorry if I made you feel like you couldn’t say anything to me, but I’m not sorry for making the decision on my own. It was for the best.”
There it was, out there in the open at last. It felt like a proverbial weight lifted off your shoulders, but at the same time like a thousand rocks sinking to the bottom of your stomach, because he wasn’t saying anything. Maybe this was it. Maybe this was how you’d fuck up the best friendship you’d ever had.
Charles was silent for the longest time before he replied, and when he did, his voice was quieter than you’d ever heard it before. It felt unnerving. “You could’ve just told me.”
“Told you?” You had to fight the urge to let out a bitter, watery laugh. “Telling your best friend you’ve fallen in love with him isn’t just something you mention at the bathroom sink one night.”
“It is, if he feels the same way about you.”
A coldness crept down your neck, shooting through your veins like you’d just had a bucket of ice cold water dumped over your head.
“No you’re not—you don't...you can't.” You whispered, disbelieving.
Charles’ brows furrowed in confusion. “What, do you want me to prove it?”
You couldn’t give him an answer even if you wanted to. You weren’t sure if you could trust yourself to say a damn word, just in case this was all a dream and you'd wake up any second, still alone, still without him there.
He must’ve taken your silence as a yes to his question, because he crossed the room in three strides, took your face in firm hands, and he kissed you.
Despite your utter shock, you managed to kiss him back clumsily, fingers curling into his hoodie tightly. Charles kissed you like he was afraid to let you go, like you’d slip through his fingers if he wasn’t careful enough.
A guiding hand curled around the back of your neck, angling your head so he could deepen the kiss, but only for a few seconds before he broke away, panting. His forehead stayed pressed against yours, soulful green eyes boring into your own in total seriousness.
“Do you believe me now?”
“Maybe.” You breathed, letting your nose bump against his gently. This was not a dream. Charles was real and here and one hell of a kisser (just as you suspected).
“I am in love with you.” He murmured, stroking his thumb over your cheek fondly. “I have been for a long time. And I never thought you would feel the same way.”
“I love you, Cha.” You were suddenly brought back to last night, when you’d uttered the same words to him. Only this time, they had a whole different meaning to them.
This time, you knew Charles loved you in the same way you loved him.
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#charles leclerc#charles leclerc x reader#cl16 x reader#charles leclerc x fem!reader#charles leclerc fic#charles leclerc x you#cl16#charles leclerc x y/n#charles leclerc one shot#truly this was only supposed to be like 2k words#this man invokes many emotions in me what can i say#if u made it this far into my tags hi hello i hope u enjoyed and thank u for reading! i appreciate u <3
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If possible, when you are feeling better and up to it, writing some aquatic monster smut (mermaid-like or octopus-like)??
Ps love your writing I look forward to seeing more 💙
Thank you for your kind words! It means a lot. I chose sea-monster as an octopus-like creature, hope that's okay. I was thinking some kind of half-octopus, half-human. Something like Ursula from The Little Mermaid but like… male and hot? I hope you like this, and I’m very sorry for how long it took me to get to it. 🥰
A good girl at the seaside
Sea-monster x fem!reader || tentacles, praise kink, forced orgasm, overstimulation
You were floating on the beach, still not believing your luck. A weird lady at the inn recommended you the most precious little beach and there was nobody around, it was completely deserted. You spent some time at the shore, basking under the sun with your bikini on, before you said fuck it, and chose to take off your bikini completely. The sun felt marvelous against your naked skin, and not having any tan lines was also a pro. You didn't want to get caught, but deep down you felt a spark of heat at the thought of someone observing your naked form. Someplace inside of you, there was an exhibitionist wanting to come out.
Floating in the water felt like a warm caress against your overheated skin, the sea salt making your body tickle, and your nakedness making you feel naughty. After a while, you felt your fingers pruning. You got back to the sand, laying down flat on your towel, the sun tickling your back and warming your skin. It was wonderful.
"What do we have here? A pretty human gift?" A raspy voice said from behind you. You screamed and tried to turn around.
"What the-?" You didn't finish that thought. A slimy something pressed at your lower back, pushing your body down and stopping you from turning to see who it was. Was that a tentacle? It felt like it. What the fuck. "Let me go!" You tried to scratch the tentacle, push it away from you, but more joined the first one, ascending the back of your thighs, sending shivers up your spine. Some grabbed your arms and pinned them down. Another pair grabbed your ankles and pushed your legs apart. You were completely exposed and trapped under some talkative tentacle monster.
"What a pretty pussy... We are going to have fun, aren't we?" The creature behind you said, a tentacle following a path to your center. You shivered involuntarily.
"What? No!" You tried to break free and turn around, but it was fruitless. The tentacles holding you down were way too heavy, had too much force for you to move.
"Hmm?" He made a sound of utter confusion. "You don't want to? But the lady said she sent me a present. And you are in my beach…"
"What are you talking about?! I don't even know who you are! What you are!" You screamed over your shoulder, still pinned to the ground, your breathing irregular with exertion of trying to get free. You tried really hard to bury the shiver of anticipation under your skin, the wetness pooling at your pussy… The slimy feeling of his tentacles against your heated skin felt wonderful, but you knew you didn’t want it. Right?
"Oh, my bad." His voice sounded completely dejected, like you offended him with your rejection. He sounded sad, and you hated that it made your heart ache for him. He was trying to tentacle-fuck you without even asking first, you shouldn’t be feeling sorry for him… But yet, you felt it. The tentacles holding you down disappeared, and you turned around completely.
He was some kind of sea creature, his upper half looked humanoid, his features flat, but handsome in a weird way. His skin looked wet and shiny, super smooth, like a fish. But his lower body wasn't human, it was a mess of tentacles that looked octopus-like, suckers included. You felt more heat rising inside your body, pooling in your lower abdomen and making your body flush. You wanted to blame the scalding sun, but you knew that it wasn’t the reason. You felt things for tentacles. You were a sucker for them (pun intended). Your heat had nothing to do with the sun, and everything to so with the otherworldly creature in front of you.
He was turning away from you, approaching the water and taking those enticing tentacles with him. Fuck no. "Wait!" You screamed at him before he touched the water.
He turned around, his sad eyes confused again. "You said you didn't want me."
"I- I know." You tried to think of a fast answer. "I- I was wrong." Wrong? What the fuck was wrong with you, that was the real question there. He tried to grope you with his tentacles, he did grope you, and you? You were asking him to come back and do it with intent this time? Dang, you were a pervy human.
"I need to hear it." He told you, his eyes fixated on your face. You felt a spark of comfort knowing he would stop if you asked him to, he already did. And now, with your consent, you wanted him to do all kinds of crazy depraved things to your body. You wanted to experience what a good tentacle-fuck could feel like and not the fake experience you got from your tentacle dildo at home.
You knew you should be more concerned, maybe even more confused about the existence of sea monsters with tentacles and abs of steel… But at that moment you could only feel the heat of his gaze over your body, the still present slimy substance on your skin and the wetness dripping from your pussy. You were horny, as horny as you’d ever felt. And he was there, ready to fuck you if you asked.
"I want you." You whispered, embarrassed.
"Good girl." You moaned at his words, your inner sub melting with his praise. He approached you again, his body undulating and his tentacles rapidly reaching for you. But he didn’t touch you, not yet.
"Aren't you scared, pretty girl?" You shook your head. "You should." He sentenced, making you shiver at the danger in his voice. Dang, that was fucking hot. "You want all of me?" You nodded, lost in a breeze of lust. And then his tentacles touched you, all over. He held you down again, this time on your back. The heat inside of you felt like a raging flame.
He didn’t waste a second. His suckers met your clit and you felt an out of body experience. "You like that, pretty girl? You should see how beautiful you look right now. How pretty my tentacles look against your skin." His words were making you squirm, not used to receive so many compliments. But you couldn’t escape his assault on you, his tentacles holding you down, his suckers taking pleasure out of you without asking.
You came faster than ever, and he hadn’t even had to enter you. He only needed one tentacle and a clever sucker to make you into a mess, and you couldn’t be more grateful. He probed at your entrance, making you moan again as he pushed inside. Two of his tentacles reached your boobs and the suckers latched into your nipples, the sensation so overwhelming that you came again, screaming so loud he shoved a tentacle in your mouth.
“Be quiet, pretty girl. I don’t want others to come see my gift.” He told you as he pushed his tentacles further down your holes. The tentacle in your mouth touched the back of your throat, making you gag as he moaned over you. The on on your pussy touched your G-spot insistently, the sensation to rough and raw that you couldn’t stop the gushing juices you let out, coming again. “You cum so prettily, your pussy looks so pink and puffy around my tentacle… I bet you can do more. Can you do more, pretty girl?” You nodded fervently, wanting so bad to be good for him. To be a good girl.
He fucked your mouth and pussy in tandem, his tentacles touching you all over. After what you thought was the ten orgasms, he lowered his pace. You were panting, your body shivering, and tears running down your face as the assault on your sensitive areas. Your body felt like an exposed nerve.
"This is okay?" A tentacle probed your asshole, pushing inside slowly, breaching your unexplored hole carefully. You wanted to nod, but you weren’t sure you’d be able to move without orgasming again. He kept looking at your face analyzing your reactions, repeating whatever made your body shiver, your pussy quiver, your moans escape around his tentacles.
And suddenly all your holes were full, his figure looming over you as he moved his tentacles all over. Inside and out, he was touching every inch of your body.
"Take me further. Come on." His embrace tightened as he pushed harder and faster into your holes, your moans muffled by the tentacle down your throat. "Good girl." You felt completely controlled, cared and fucked out. All three at the same time. You asked for this, and you were mesmerized by the feel of his skin against yours. “One more.” You shook your head, you couldn’t get more, it hurt so good when he pushed inside, but you didn’t think you could do more. You cried around the tentacle in your mouth and he shushed you, wiping your tears with another tentacle. Gods, he was all over you. “Come on, pretty girl, one more and I’ll stop.” He kept fucking you through your turmoil, the pleasure and pain mixing in the most excruciating sensation you’d ever felt.
“Come on, come for me one more time.” And you came. You felt some fluid leaking out of his tentacles, covering you in a mass of slime, down your throat, up your cervix… You were stuffed full of slimy liquid as he screamed over you.
After all that you just had one clear thought: real-life tentacles were a lot better than silicone dildos.
#sea monster#monster#monster fucker#monster x human#monster imagine#teratophillia#monster boyfriend#monster x reader#terato#sea monster x human#sea monster x reader#fem!reader#monster kink#monster smut#terat0philliac#request
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5 Man Train
-‘๑’- Summary: Being stalked by a curse is horrible, but a meeting with the top sorcerers in Tokyo makes is all the better…and I mean ALL THE BETTER.
ꕥ Pairing: Nanami x Toji x Choso x Gojo x Geto x shy!reader (Y/N)
✎ Note: In this AU everyone works at Tokyo Jujitsu High and Geto didn’t lose his mind.
・❥・Warning: sexual content (18+ ONLY), consent (consent is so fucking hot), size difference, bulging, train, orgy, v in p sex, deep throating, p in a sex, swallowing, anal sex, ass eating, dirty talking, mature language, chocking, edging, spanking, facial, domination kink, major creampie(s), multiple sex partners, oral sex (both), penetrative sex, double penetration (both holes), and triple penetration ( is that even a thing XD).
A/N: Y’all don’t interact with me in thr comments. I wanna know your opinions :(. I hope this lives up everyone’s expectations. Thank you in advance for reading!
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
“FUCK! She’s so pretty. Look at the tits on her. Those perfect lips made just right for suckin’ a worthy dick.” Gojo shouts as he sees the picture of you on the meeting board. Toji and Choso nod their heads in agreement with their arms folded across their chest.
Toji whistles, “Her ass is perfect for backshots.”.
“While she is pretty, she may be in danger.” Geto speaks as he brings everyone’s attention back to the board.
“Moving on. We’ve received a report that this young lady is being stalked by a Special Grade Curse. We don’t have much information about this curse since it just appeared out of nowhere and we have no record of it from the past. Principal Yaga requested she come to us, so we can corner and contain the curse here. Completely cutting it off to the public. Good for us that we won’t have to put up a veil.”, Nanami goes over and he believes everyone will listen even though he knows they aren’t.
“Here you loud and clear, Specs”, comments Toji as he makes the report paper into an airplane and sends it flying across the room. Nanami rolls his eyes and take a seat. The group waited what seemed like forever for you to arrive. Some growing more impatient than others. Gojo and Geto didn’t help the time move faster as they started messing with Toji. They took his paper plane and flew it into his ear as he dozed off. The two pretended as if they did nothing leaving Choso to receive the punishment. The four men laugh as Nanami buries himself deeper into his newspaper eventually getting annoyed by the extra noise. Just as Nanami opened the door, a soft knock hit his chest. Everyone had taken notice and risen from their chairs to see why Nanami stopped in his tracks only to find you standing outside of the door. A teary eye woman with her hands clutching her purse tightly. Nanami dropped his newspaper quickly and embraced you into his warmth. He guided you into the room and sat you down at the head of the table. Kneeling beside you, he took your hand and told you everything was going to be okay. You squeezed his hand and tried to suck your tears back into your eyes. Choso felt bad for you and decided to bring you some tissues from the office closet. He lifted your chin with his index finger and wiped the tears from your eyes. The rest of the men gathered around you taking a seat at the table.
“Hey Doll, tell us what’s the matter?” Toji questions while taking your hand into his and stroking it lightly.
You find comfort in their actions and being to unload upon the men about your traumatic experiences with the curse. You explain to them that it feels like someone is watching you all the time. Your dreams haunted by certain visuals you weren’t comfortable with expressing. How your body gets hot at night and you wake up a sweaty mess. If you had been talking to anyone else they would write you off as crazy, but it seems like these men believe every word you said. No judgment insight. After you told them everything, the blonde haired man stood up, “Thank you for sharing that with us, Miss (Y/L/N). I believe we should all introduce ourselves to make this go by easier. I also think this will calm your nerves a little.”. You shy away in your seat lowering your head and tucking your hands in your lap, but nod in agreement.
“Great. I’m Nanami. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“I’m Choso.”
“Hey baby I’m Gojo”
“I’m Geto. Nice to meet you beautiful.”
“And I’m Toji princess.”
You start to blush as the compliments didn’t go over your head. As a gesture of appreciation, you tilt your head thanking the men for helping you in advance. Some chuckles and smirks were given towards your reaction, but you didn’t mind. Suddenly your jolts at the familiar presence that just entered the room. Faster than a blink of an eye, the men readied themselves as the curse emerged. All at once they attacked the curse trying to exorcize it. Before any attack landed though, the curse just disappeared . The men looked at each other confused before glancing back at you. At that moment, it felt like a thousand bricks had lifted off your shoulders. Failing to understand your situation, you jumped in the air repeatedly overjoyed the curse was gone. The room started to heat up, but no one thought anything of it. Unbeknownst to you, the group of men eyed you as your prefect tits, juicy thighs, meaty ass jiggled as you bounced up and down. Choso has been hard as a rock since wiping your tears and the others are becoming semi-hard. Gojo even starts to palm himself through his pocket. Geto and Nanami coughs to gain your attention and try to recompose the others.
You calm your excitement down slightly embarrassed by your outburst. You walk towards the men and hug them individually. Some holding you close to their body and others holding you longer than expected. They try their hardest not to make their boners noticeable as you continue your onslaught of appreciation. “I really can’t express how grateful I am to you all. I’m so happy Mr. Yaga got me in touch with you guys. Please, if there’s anyway I can express my gratitude further let me know.”, with those words you turn away from the men and gather your belongings. Bending over to pick up your purse, the curve of your nice ass was outlined by your summer dress. Their minds started to race:
Geto: ‘God I want to fuck her so bad. Feel her draining me dry.’
Toji: ‘I want to see that plump ass bounce on my dick as I fuck her into submission.’
Gojo: ‘Fuck…just image my dick sliding in and out of that tight throat.’
Choso: ‘I bet her pussy is as beautiful as her’.
Nanami: ‘I hope her legs can touch her ears, I want to be as deep in that tight cunt as I can be’.
It was almost like they were thinking on the same wavelength. Quick glances start to make their ways between the men. Gojo and Geto raise an eyebrow and points their thumbs at you. When the others caught on, Gojo used his hand to form an ‘O” while Geto slide one of his fingers in and out of the hole mimicking sex. Chose and Toji nod in agreement while Nanami was still on the fence about it. Don’t get him wrong, he wanted to make you cream on his dick just as much as everyone else, but he didn’t want to hurt you or take advantage of you. It wasn’t like they had normal sized cocks and you certainly didn’t give them the impression of being a pro at sex. Conflicted Nanami threw his hands up slightly. The attention leaves the silent conversation as they start to notice you heading towards the door. As you make your way to the door, a large body blocks your exit.
“Mr. Toji? Is…Is something wrong?.”, you clench your bag awaiting his response. He just looks you up and down and bites his lip seductively. A faint blush spreads across your face as you shy into yourself trying to block his view of you with your bag. He slowly puts his hand under your chin to raise it. His hot breath ghosts your ear as he says, “Calm down princess. I won’t hurt ya’. I just thought of a way you can show your gratitude to us.”. Nanami spoke up, “Toji! We shouldn’t push it. It’s highly inappropriate and unprofessional.”. You look around confused, but ask for clarification. “Um…we find you attractive and want to have sex with you…to show gratitude from both sides.”, Chose admits. Geto sighs loudly and Gojo laughs while they raise their hands and slap Choso’s back. Your heart starts to race as the words finally register in your head. Nanami grabs a chair for you and holds it while you sit in it.
You look up at the five men now towering you. Their frames big, bodies muscular, face handsome, and dicks big. REALLY BIG. Your blush grows wider and more visible. As your mind races, your body gets hotter and your pussy wetter. You shift your legs a little in the chair trying your best to hide your growing wetness. Geto kneels down before you and kisses your hand, “We won’t force you to do something you don’t want to. But it seems you’re becoming flustered from the thought of us same as we are of you. If this is something you want and something you can handle-…Please give us your consent”, they finish in unison. Your body is on fire. Heat spreads far and wide as your breath starts to become heavier. You take a moment to consider everything that was just laid out in front of you. You gather the remaining bit of your courage and give Geto a light peck on his cheek retreating into your hands after. He smirks a bit and Gojo raises your head, “You use words baby. We need to know for certain you can handle us.”.
“Yes…Sir. I-I can handle you all. I consent to all of you and everything you give me.”, you say as loud as you can slightly covering your face. Nanami smiles and kisses the top of your head. Choso teases him, “Your mood switched mighty fast Nanami” before giving you a kiss on the cheek. Toji lifts your head and steals a kiss from your lips, dragging his tongue along your bottom lip. Gojo pushes him off playfully and kisses your neck. Lastly, Geto returns your sweet peck with a kiss on your jawline. “Before we start…Are you a virgin?”, Nanami questions. “No Sir. I lost my virginity a few years ago. I haven’t been with anyone since then though…”, you admit while feeling slightly uncomfortable remembering your failed relationship. He hums in acceptance of your answer, “Understandable. I won’t ask any further about your personal life.”. You gave him a soft ‘thank you’ and a smile. “Now that the small talk is over. Your safe word is Rose baby. If things get too painful for you, say that word and we’ll all stop no matter what. You or any of us can back out of this at anytime. Got it?” Gojo explains as he palms his dick showing off just how mighty it is through his pants. Your mouth waters a little, but you nodded your head understanding every word.
With that Choso rolled your chair to the office table. He picks you up and sits you in the middle of the table. The men circle you as you sit on top of your knees. “Stripe.”, was the only words that left Geto and Gojo’s mouths. You slowly peel off your dress and the warm office room air hits you. ‘Was it always this hot in here?‘ You cover your breast with one hand and slipped the rest of your dress off with the other. You shut your legs tight preventing them from seeing your covered pussy. The men take time to admire every part of your body to the last curve. You hide your face as the embarrassment gets to you. “Don’t be shy princess. We’ll take real good care of you.” Toji says giving you sly smirk making you blush. “So who’s gonna go first?”, Toji questioned before loudly shouting ‘me’ over everyone else in the room. Tension starts to rise as the men silently compete over who will go first. You giggle softly at their actions. Toji smirks at you and gives you a swat on your ass. You yelp a small moan and hold your butt. The rest of the men laugh a little while Choso brings a pen to the table, “Here’s how we’ll decide. She’ll spin the pen and whoever it lands on gets her. So on and so fourth. Hopefully she’s not fucked too dumb by the end of it”. The men agree, but Nanami makes sure it’s okay with you as well. You tell him yes and spin the pen.
The pen spins wildly until it lands on Choso. “Really.” Gojo comments in an annoyed expression sticking his tongue out in a dramatic manner. Choso flashes him a sly smile and reaches his hand out to you. You slide off the table and on to his lap. He calls you pretty and takes your lips into his. The kiss feels so good and even better when his hands find their way to your meaty ass kneading it like dough. You both moan in unison in each other’s mouths as you grind on him. Breaking away for air, Choso tells you to turn around in his lap. When you do so, you’re met by big dicks being stroked by big hands. Drool leaves your mouth as the onlooking men bite their lips and tighten their grip on their dicks. Choso pinches your nipples through your bra causing you to moan. You blush hard and press your body into him as he massages your tits. “P-please Mr. Choso…Ahn…s-suck my nipples.”, you beg as his slow massaging turns torturous. He kisses your ear and unhooks your bra letting your plump breast drop. He plays with your nipples earning him a few more moans before he being to suck them. Taking his time going from the right to the left. Your moans grow louder as your legs start to squeeze together. “Mmm-Cho-ahhh…Chose…so-oh...Good-ah!”, you scream out as his other hand snakes down into your panties and rub circles on your clit. Your needy pussy chases his fingers as your free hand grabs his hair giving it a soft tug. He moans around your nipple sending vibrations through your body. “Seems like she found his dirty secret”, laughs Geto. Choso picks up his speed bring you close to the edge, “I’m….ahh oh god….’m so close!”. He stops his fingers suddenly and he kisses down your neck.
You whimper from the loss of his thick fingers. “Get up here baby.”, he pats the table and you climb on top. He helps you face the others and tells you to arch your back. You can hear the stroking become louder as your pussy becomes on display more. Choso gives your ass a nice slap making your pussy clench around nothing. “Damn-fu-ahh. That pussy is so pretty and needy.” Gojo breathes out heavily as he strokes his dick squeezing it at the base. Choso rubs your clit again, “Want me to eat this needy pussy baby?”. You nod your head and spread your legs further eager for his tongue on your sweet sweet cunt. Choso laughs and blows his breath on your exposed heat. You flinch a little as his tongue starts to eat you out. You grab at the table moaning his name loudly. Wet sounds fill the room as he laps at your wetness, sucking at your clit and sticking his tongue in your pussy hole. You give a deep moan as he slides one finger into your pussy and starts to pumps slowly. “How you feeling? Let Mr. Choso know.”, he says as he fingers your tight pussy faster and eats you out. Your mind goes blank as the orgasm hits you. Cum drips from your hole onto Choso’s chin as you shut your legs tight holding his face hostage between your thighs. After riding out your high on his face, you lay down fully, twitching form the shock. “You okay?”, he asks with a worried expression on his face. You give him a thumbs up and spread your legs again for everyone to see your pussy. Choso smacks your ass and kisses the spot he made contact with.
“Guess you can say she enjoyed it.” laughed Nanami as he slowly strokes his cock while Choso wiped his mouth and uses your juices to stroke his long cock. He runs his hand up your legs and kisses you. You chase after his lips, but he cuts you off and hands you the pin. “Spin it, princess.” Toji says to you as he captures your lips next. The pen spins and lands between Geto and Gojo. You reach for the pen again, but Nanami stops you. You look at him and then Gojo and Geto.“Want to share your turn?” Geto asks as he stands with his cock pointing straight out. “You know I don’t mind sharing with you” Gojo replies with his curved dick jumping a little. “Come Here (Y/N).”. You get on your hands and knees and crawl towards them. They lift your head and kiss your cheeks. You giggle and kiss them back. Gojo strokes your cheek and takes your hand and wrap it around Geto’s dick. Geto moans softly in pleasure. “See baby. Stroke him just like that and make sure to squeeze his tip a little.’, he says as he teaches you how to pleasure Geto. He spits in your hand and helps you stroke Geto off.
“Dammit Satoru…mmm-ughh.”, he chokes out moans. Gojo kisses you passionately as you stroke Geto off. “Now do try to suck him off.”, Gojo tells while you massage Geto's loaded balls. His moans fill the room. Gojo holds your hair back and you slowly take Geto’s cock in your mouth. “Fu-fuck so warm and tight.”, he says as he places his hand on the back on your head helping you swallow all of what you can of his dick. After a few pumps, he starts to fuck into your mouth. Gawking noises hits everyone’s ears as they watch the slobber run down your chin as his balls slap against your face. Gojo laughs as Geto’s grip on your hair becomes tighter and pulls himself out of your mouth. “Think you can deep throat me sweetheart?”, he asks permission. “Yes Sir.”, you say as you open your mouth for him. He whistles at your actions while putting his massive dick back into your throat. He instructs Gojo to hold you still as he takes your mouth. What started as slow strokes quickly turned into quick deep thrust into your throat. He grunts and groans as he thrusts into your mouth. “Fuck! You better not drop a single sperm out of this pretty little mouth. You here me (Y/N)!”, Geto warns as one of his hands makes it to your throat to hold you further in place while you moan on his tip. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I’-I’m cum-mmmffp!”, Geto shoots thick ropes of cum into your throat as you try your best to swallow everything.
Geto kisses your cum stained lips, ‘Good job pretty.”. He helps Gojo flip you over. Your head next to Gojo’s cock while your pussy is in his face. You take his dick into your mouth too quickly and gag yourself squirting a little on his chest. Geto helps you readjust and you thank him. You try again at suckin him off while Geto starts to drag his tongue on your asshole. “Hurry up and take me all the way baby.”, he slaps your pussy for a little encouragement. “Mmm-Mr. Sa-Toru!”, you moan out as the slap stings a little, but the pain slowly turns to pleasure. You suck and stroke his dick as Geto holds your hair for you. Gojo fingers, and eats your pretty cunt out and you moan on his dick in return. The vibrations causes his hips to buck in your mouth. He bites his lip in satisfaction, “Yes baby..suck that big dick and drain my balls.”. He picks up his speed and bucks harder into your mouth. Geto holds your body up a little and moves in closer. Gojo catches on and helps him support you as Geto starts eating your juicy ass again while Gojo eats your pussy. You bob your head his dick and taking it out your mouth occasionally suck on his balls while you stroke his tip. You become overwhelmed from all the pleasure as that familiar knot forms again. The duo bully your ass and pussy while they play with your clit and ass with their fingers. “Cum…shi-shit…Pretty cum for me!”, Gojo shouts holding your head down to bottom out in your throat. He releases his cum which flows back down his cock as you cream on his face getting some on Geto. They flip you over and sit you on the table again. “You’re so fuckin hot sweetheart.”, they say in unison as you all take a break to regain yourselves. After making sure you can continue, the pen is placed in your hands yet again.
You look at Toji and Nanami as you spin the pin, still a bit dazed from being upside down. The pin stop on Nanami and Toji snatches it, “Fuckin’ useless shit! Saving me for last!”. He throws the pen to the ground and it scares you a little. His dick twitches as he regains control of himself. Toji smiles at you while rubbing your cheek and tells you it’s fine just a little overreaction. You smile back at him and kiss the inside of his hand. “Aren’t you a sweet girl.”, Nanami teases as he drops his pants fully and loosens his tie. He holds his hand out and you take his thumb into your mouth sucking on it. “You sure you want to get me started sweetheart? I can be a bit mean.”, he growls in your ear. The other men laugh as they continue to stroke themselves. You smile at him spreading your legs for him to see your dripping cunt. He smirks at you and tells stand in the center of the table. Nanami joins you on the table and lays on his back, motioning for you to straddle him. You do as your told and as a reward Nanami gives your pussy a few slaps with his cockhead. You try to close your legs, but he opens them wide and stares at your pussy. “God she’s beautiful.”, he says as he picks you up and hovers you over his face giving your pretty pussy lips a kiss before returning you to your previous spot. Nanami asks you to raise your hips a little as he lines himself up with your entrance. You hesitate a bit looking at his massive dick. He notices your expression, “You want to stop?”. You shake your head, “N-no…I’m just a little nervous. I’ve never had a dick this big before”. The room roars in laughter as Nanami sits up to kiss your face, “I’ll take it slow, so you can adjust to my size. When you get comfortable and ready for me to pound your pussy let me know.”. Your facial expression changes to one of relief as you raise your hips over him again.
“No wonder that cunt is so needy. You’ve never had any real dick before.”, Gojo says making the men and you laugh. Nanami holds the meat of your thigh with one had as he uses his other hand to keep his dick steady as it slowly stretches your tight pussy. Even with the prep, you struggle to take his cock. A tear rolls down your face as he bottoms out in you. Nanami grabs you and holds you close to his chest. The others watch as your pussy is stretched by his cock. Nanami wipes your tears and comforts you as you adjust to his size. After a minute or two, you tap his shoulders gaining his full attention. “Ready for me to move baby?”, he questions to which you nod your head. He slow strokes you trying his best to make your pain turn to pleasure. Once it does, he picks up his speed and your pussy clings to his dick, “Mm-fuck baby…clenching me so fuckin’ good.”. You throw your head back in pleasure as he holds your hips and abuse your cunt. “T-ah…thank you…Mr. Na-ahhh ah ah….Nana-mi!.”. He starts to slow his thrust down as he feels your organism approaching. You whimper placing your hands on his chest and looking at him with needy eyes. He puts his hand in your hair and pulls it, “If you want to cum, ride this dick until you cum all over me.”. Your heart thumps at his words as you slowly get on your toes using his body to support yourself. When you start to move your hips, the sound of your wet pussy could be through the room along with grunting and groaning. Your pussy gets wetter from all the sounds and eyes being on you. Chose sucks his teeth, “Damn I should’ve fucked her first.”. “Don’t worry, I’ll fuck her enough for you, him, and him.”, Toji smirks as he points at Choso, Geto, and Gojo while they scoff at him.
Nanami starts to moan as his grip on your hair and waist grows tighter. As you ride him, he ruts his hips up to fuck you back. “Yes baby…mphf-fuck yeah…give me at orgasm. Give me that fuckin’ orgasm!”. His thrust became more violent and you start to fall apart on his dick clawing at his chest. Tits bouncing in the air as you pause your movements to let him fuck you, “I’m going to fill this pussy so-mmmf…so good (y/n).”. The others move in closer as they suck at your neck and nipples while your cunt is being pounded by Nanami’s fat cock. “I’m…cu-ah…cumming…”, your voice trails off as you cum and squirt wetting Nanami. He wets everyone else by fucking you through your orgasm, releasing his seed in your tight cunt. Once you calmed down, Nanami lifts you up as everyone watches his cum drip out your pussy, biting their lips at the lovely site.
You look over at Toji who holds his hands out for you. Nanami passes you off to Toji and he kisses you deeply. His tongue invades your mouth and you moan in his when he smacks your ass. “Turn around fa’ me princess…and arch your back fa’ me.”, he instructs you as he stokes his dick. You turn around and wiggle your sexy ass at him before arching. Toji smirks and places a kiss on your back before putting his hand on your waist. You look back at him and hold onto his arm as he lines himself up and slowly enters your hole pushing Nanami’s cum out. Your pussy tightens and you moan out as he continues to enter you. “Don’t fight me doll. Let me in that sweet pussy.”, Toji says causing your face to heat up. You relax a bit and he takes the opportunity to shove the rest on himself in causing you to say his name loudly. He pushes done on your back and starts to fuck you. His thrust are so strong and fast, your ass and tits bounce in response. You dig your fingers into the table and try to move your body away from him a little. The pleasure is too intense and tears start falling down your face. The others smirk at you while encouraging you to take him. Toji’s thrust suddenly stops as he finds himself chasing your pussy with his last thrust.
He grabs you by the hair and pulls you up into his chest, “Stop fuckin’ runnin’ before I hold you down and make you take me. I’m not as merciful as Nanami.”. Your pussy flutters as you soak in his words. “I’m…I’m sorry Mr. Toji…I’ll behave.”, you apologize as your pussy grows wetter. He slaps your tits and pussy before letting go of your hair. You try to go back down into position, but Toji stops you, “You lost that privilege sweetheart.”. He shoves his dick back in you and hold you to his chest. The others watch in awe as his dick bulges in you. Nanami and the others press on the spot making you and Toji throw your heads back in pleasure. “Why didn’t you let us see the bulge you made in her?”, Geto questions Nanami as Gojo wonders as well. “I wanted to be selfish.”, Nanami admitted with no shame. Everyone laughs and calls Nanami a cold bastard.
Toji kisses your neck and holds your tits in his hands, “Fuck yourself on me. Do a good job and I’ll reward you by makin’ your ass see stars.”. He gives you a good thrust to signal you to start. You move your hips on him as best as you could. Your ass slaps against his pelvis as your pussy tries to swallow him whole. Your tongue rolls out of your mouth as your back arches loving the way his dick curves up and hit your spot every time. “I think she deserves some strokes. Don’t you?”, Choso suggest to Toji. He smiles and moves his hands to your throat and clit. He rubs circles on your clit and chokes you as he fucks into you hard. “Toji! Toji! Ahh! Ahhh!”, you scream his name as he bruises your cunt. “I’m right here babygirl. Let me kiss that cervix with my tip.”, Toji says as he somehow manages to fuck you deeper. Precum starts to form on the others dicks as they watch your pussy get slaughtered. “You wanted him to beat your pussy up baby.”, Gojo teases as he wipes your tears. Geto chimes in, “Aww is Mr. Toji bullying that sweet girl’s cunt?”. You moan out again and you claw at his arms. Your completely under his control right now and you love it. You love being used by these men. You love they way they abuse your cunt and make it their own. “Please. Can. I. Cum. Mr.-ah…TOJI!”, you moan out with each thrust he gives you. He bites into your neck and continues to fuck you, but you notice his thrust are becoming slow and random like Gojo and Nanami did. You clench your pussy in an attempt to make him cum first which makes him slap your cunt in response. He bends your body down some and lock his arms into yours, still fucking the shit out of your cunt. You start to lose breath as he digs into your guts so rough, but lovingly. “I’ll let you cum only beca-ahh fuck…I wanna’ stuff this pretty begging cunt…mmfu-full right now…”, Toji says through grunts as he starts to fill you up unable to hold back anymore. Everyone watches as they see Toji’s dick twitch inside of you shooting out his hot sticky load. As you feel the hot seed spread in your cunt, your orgasm sends you over the edge. Your body starts to slump down and everyone reaches out to catch you. Nanami grabs a water bottle as Choso holds your head up to drink. “Fuck. My bad princess…I put too much stress on you.”, Toji apologizes as the others provide you with comfort. You lay there for a minute while everyone else starts to pull up their pants.
You jump up, “R-Rose!”. All eyes snap towards you. You muster up all your courage and get on your knees on the table, “Please don’t…don’t go just yet.”. Tears start to form in your eyes, “…you didn’t even let me take you all at once…”. Your head jolts up at the sound of pants dropping simultaneously.
Geto: “You”
Gojo: “want”
Choso: “us”
Toji: “all”
Nanami: “at once?”
You laugh at their shocked faces and they grin at you. They gather around the table again as you sit in the middle. They discuss amongst themselves how it was going to go. Gojo and Geto call your ass while Nanami and Choso wanted your pussy. That tight loving throat of yours was claimed by Toji. Before they started to position themselves, they asked you one last time if this was okay. You reassured them as Choso and Nanami helped you stand. Gojo and Geto overlap their legs and push their cocks together while everyone spit on their cocks to act as lube for your ass. The other three helped lower you down as you hissed in pain from the stretch. They moan as they bottom out in you giving you time to adjust. After making sure you could keep going, Geto and Gojo supported your back as Nanami and Choso slid in your cunt stretching it wide. You all moaned in unison as they went as deep as they could. Toji stands on the table and taps your lips with his cock. You mouth and take him in slowly as the rest start to move their dicks in you. Your face contorts in an uncomfortable expression as the pain overpowers the pleasure. Toji notices and stops everyone, “Either find a rhythm or fuck off. You’re hurting her.”. They all apologize and you tell them its okay before taking Toji’s nuts into your mouth gurgling on them.
Geto starts moving as with Choso. As they move out, Nanami and Gojo move in keeping your pussy and ass full. They work together to rise your body a bit, so Gojo and Geto can fuck into you properly without disturbing Choso and Nanami too much. They fuck into you slow using your moans as confirmation to move faster. “Open wide babygirl. Try your best to deep throat me.”, Toji says as he pushes your head down his dick. It’s almost suffocating and your eyes roll back once again in pleasure. Your pussy and ass clench causing the rest to moan out. Toji pulls out and everyone watches the spit from the back of your throat connects your mouth to his tip. Toji licks his lips, “I love that shit.”. He fucks into your throat as the others start fucking you mercilessly. The knot in your core builds rapidly and you start to call out , “Nanami! Choso! Toji! Geto! Gojo!”. Toji shoves his dick back in your mouth as your become a moaning mess on his tip. The others either dig their fingers into your body, pitch your nipples, rub your clip, and slap your ass as they rutted into you. Geto grunts as Gojo slaps your ass again, “Who…ahhh…ah-ass for? Who does this ass belong to?”. “Gojo and Geto! Ahhh yes…My ass belong to Gojo and Geto!”, you scream out as Nanami and Choso fuck you deeper hitting your g-spot repeatedly. Choso chokes out between moans, “ah-shit…and this tight pussy-“. Nanami joins him, “who does this pussy belong to baby…ohh-shit!”. Once again you scream their names as you can feel your core tightening ready to release any second now. Toji grabs your face and forces you to look at him, “Who does theses pretty lips belong to?”. You kiss his cock up and down before leaving a sloppy kiss on his tip, “My lips and mouth belong to you Mr. Toji”. You hold eye contact with him as he as you one last question, “Your body? Who owns it?”. You look at everyone and throw you head back as your powerful orgasm washes over you, “M-my body belongs to you all!”.
Toji holds your head up as you ride your high out. “D-don’t…s-stop…fu-fucking me…”, you beg them as your begging turns into babbles. You’ve been fucked dumb and the men fucking you are enjoying it as they can feel their balls swell with cum. Toji gently taps your cheeks and you open your mouth for him with dazed eyes. “Fuck! I…can’t hold on any..longer-ahhhhhh”, Chose moans as he creampies you. Gojo hisses and pumps his load into with Geto following right after him. Nanami is next to cum in you as his cum pushes out Choso causing a sticky white waterfall to run down your pussy. Toji fucks into your sloppy throat, “Swallow my cum like the good girl I know you are.”, he says between heavy breaths. Toji holds your head still as he starts to shoot his cum into the back of your throat. You try to swallow around him as he cums causing him to moan your name. After draining his nuts into your throat, he pulls out and you lick your lips gathering the rest of the cum and swallowing it as well. Everyone pulls out of you and give you time to rest before they hear a screech from the other side of the room. The curse has remerged, but this time it exploded.
The room became normal temperature again and Gojo speaks up, “So that’s why the room was so hot. The curse was still here.”.
Geto chimes in, “The curse was more than likely sex based.”.
Toji speak next, “She did say it’s been a while since she was laid.”.
“Yeah.”, Choso agreed.
“Well at least it’s gone now.”, Nanami adds before turning his attention back to you as you hold onto him. You burst out in laughter from how silly the situation was. All that trauma just because you didn’t get dick in a while. The others laugh with you and started cleaning up the office room. They came back to the table to clean you up as your legs were too fucked out to work properly. Once everyone was clothed, they all gave you their personal business cards and informed you to call them in case the ‘curse’ returned. You kiss them all understanding what they meant and Geto picks you up bridal style. As you and the others open the door, your met by Principle Yaga.
“Did they exorcise your curse?”, Yaga asked.
“Yeah…they exorcised it real well.”, you say a little embarrassed hiding your face in Geto’s neck. Everyone else laughs again before you all exit the room leaving Yagi confused.
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A/N: Up next “Disciplinary Actions” boss!Sir Crocodile x worker!Reader…
#18+ content#18+ only#smut#18+ post#jjk x reader#jjk smut#nanami x reader#geto x reader#gojo x reader#choso x reader#toji x reader#toji smut#reader insert#geto smut#gojo smut#nanami smut#choso smut#adult only content#fandom smut#smut writing#smut oneshot#oneshot
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✰ don’t give me that look | l.at oneshot
pairing: switch! producer boyfriend! anton x sub! f. reader
🇨💿 🇳🇹🇦🇮🇳🇸 ꗃ SIZE KINK, kissing, lap sitting, tit & clit play, anton records a sex-tape in the studio, unprotected sex (back shots), roughly 1.8k words … !?
a/n: for @antonitty and her delusions - hope u like it bae !!
You sat idly on the studio couch, admiring your boyfriend from afar as he silently toggled with the sound desk, mixing a few rhythms.
Crossing your legs, you eyed him up and down, taking in the view of his focused frame.
“You’re pretty good at flicking and twisting those knobs, y’know?… I wonder how nice it’d be if you used that same energy to please me…”
He let out a soft breath, eyes still trained on the soundboard as he spoke, “Babe, you know I’d rather spend time with you… I just have to produce this track sample before tomorrow…”
“And then?…”
“I’m all yours,” he finished, flashing you a promising look through his shaggy bangs.
“Fineeee,” you agreed in a sarcastic tone, slightly rolling your eyes at him, “but can you let me try something on the record first?… it might help…”
Anton quirked a brow, turning to meet your face with his own intrigued one, “You mean like… singing?”
You simply nodded in response, just before promptly getting up from the couch to sit on his lap at the music desk.
He didn’t know what to do with his hands now that you were this close to him, so he simply rested them at each arm of the spinning chair.
“You might even learn a thing or two from me if you pay attention,” you went on, knowing that he’d smile at your playful words.
“Go ahead then, superstar… blow me away,” he whispered tauntingly, keeping his thighs firm as you adjusted yourself on top of him.
With his headphones secured around his head, Anton prepared himself to hear whatever it was that you wanted to add to the track project.
Pressing the red “record” button, you let the instrumental play for a few moments as you got a feel of the beat, this one sounding more R&B compared to his usually chill rhythms.
You started by toggling in a few bass notes on the drum-pad, watching Anton’s reflection in the soundproof screen ahead for any sign of reaction.
So far, he only bobbed his head slowly, still anticipating your next move.
That’s when you picked up the mic, bringing it to your lips and letting out the most pornographic moan you could muster.
Anton’s hands flew from the chair arms to take off his headphones, reaching forward to pause the track recording as you suddenly burst into a fit of giggles.
“Babe, what the hell?” He blushed, covering his face with one hand as butterflies rushed through his stomach, the sound of your moan replaying in his mind over and over, “this is serious, y’know?”
You turned around in his lap, taking in your boyfriend’s shy demeanor as you fought to hold back the laughter growing in your chest.
“What? Was it bad? I can do better if you want me to…,” you pouted, batting your eyelashes at him as he put his hands behind his head, slightly smirking at you despite the evidently nervous red flush of his cheeks, “you can even help me...”
“Don’t give me that look, ____,” he sighed, voice sounding a bit more raspy while still maintaining its usual softness.
Was it nerves?
Was he horny?…
Either way, it didn’t matter to you because he sounded so fucking hot right now—
“What look?” you pressed with a feigned expression of innocence before very intentionally wiggling in his lap a bit.
“Like you wanna be fucked,” Anton said with a wince at your actions, letting his eyelids fall slightly while looking down at you with a clenched jaw.
You couldn’t believe those words had left his mouth so smoothly, his confidence alone causing you to squeeze your thighs together, already feeling so eager for him…
You couldn’t handle it when he behaved so switchy with you… starting off all shy before gradually becoming more and more bold.
His eyes eventually wandered back to the soundboard, so you took it as an opportunity to change the subject.
“You never told me if it was bad or not,” you started in the silence, mind just now becoming aware of Anton slowly getting harder beneath you.
“Well,” he hummed, letting his hands leave his head and slip down to your hips, “it was a solid 50-50, if I’m being honest…”
You scoffed dramatically, an offended hand flying to your chest, “How so?”
“Because… I always love the sounds you make for me, but not when you force them…”
His grip on your hips was firm now, holding you in place before just barely rocking you against his lap in skilled motions.
Despite the simplicity of his actions, your body started to feel dizzy with desire, mind fogging up as his clothed tip continued grinding beneath your core.
“Anton—”
“Shhh,” he interrupted, the feeling of his breath below your ear making you internally shiver, a feathery yet steady groan escaping his lips.
“Can I try something now?” he asked breathlessly, even though the question sounded more like a declaration than a proposal of permission.
“Mhmm,” you nodded submissively, eyes feeling heavy as the warmth amongst your bodies only grew, thanks to how stuffy the studio was.
Clicking the sound desk back on “record,” Anton slipped his headphones over your head, feeling himself get even hotter at how cute you looked in this moment, his chunky earmuffs barely fitting around your much smaller head.
By now though, Anton had easy access to your lower half, given the high-pleated-skirt you decided to wear that day.
You almost felt like half of your body escaped to another planet when Anton’s touch started to wander lower, his hands practically covering the entire expanse of your exposed thighs given how big they were.
His breath remained steady in this moment, despite how his heart kept stuttering like a broken record.
Or perhaps, a sexually excited one…
The subtle movements of your legs helped Anton to shimmy your panties down past your hips, all the way down to your ankles, and eventually the floor.
You sat with your soaking wet core atop your boyfriend’s lap now, two of his fingers soon finding your clit in slow, circular motions.
The thing was, Anton had finally let his intrusive thoughts win, having wanted to get a genuine recording of your moans for a while.
The idea always meddled in the back of his mind whenever you pranced into the studio while he was working on beats…
However, the only issue now was that you were feeling a bit shy with the recorder on again…
“C’mon baby, lemme hear you,” the boy nearly begged, words sounding a bit mumbled with the way he was kissing along your neck.
“I know you want to,” he taunted, free hand sliding up to grope your left tit while his other hand continued toying with your pussy, “no wonder you wore this slutty skirt for me today…”
His voice… it practically intoxicated you… the way it sounded so pure yet so condescending at the same time…
“F-fuck,” you stammered with a moan, furrowing your brows as his fingers applied pressure to your clit, the other hand slightly pinching your nipple as he knew just how to get you to those pretty sounds that he wanted out of you.
“Good girl~,” he whispered in a cooing manner, “but I know you can do better than that…”
He guided you to stand up on your wobbly legs, his fingers meddling with your slick as he towered behind you.
And although your ears were still muffed with his headset, you could clearly make out the sound of his belt unbuckling with tingly clinks, your pussy only pulsing with need.
Before you could even beg to be fucked, you felt one of Anton’s hands hike up your skirt, the other forcing your back to arch over the sound board as his hard length pressed between your folds.
He was way too fucking big, but part of you liked the idea of him potentially breaking you.
It wasn’t easy, but your boyfriend eventually slipped himself inside, letting his tip tease along the ridges of your heat before picking up the pace, the soft pants and occasional groans from his body sounding loud and clear thanks to the headphones you wore.
There was also something about hearing your own moans so audibly on top of his… hearing how he turned you into a whiny mess so easily…
Anton’s hazy eyes met your fucked out reflection in the glass screen ahead, your own vision wandering off to the sound wave reader on his music board.
The way it’s lines heightened with each desperate moan that left your sweaty bodies did nothing but crazy things to the knot tightening in your stomach.
“Touch me, Anton,” you practically whimpered, voice coming out in small hiccups given how hard he was pounding into you.
His hands were already so tight around your waist, but your whiny request let him know exactly where you wanted him… where you needed that extra intensity.
He went to grope your tits, lifting your body away from the sound board with ease as the sight of his flexed biceps nearly made you drool.
The pace of his hips remained fast and controlled as he continued fucking into you, the tip of his cock reaching so deep that you’re sure you felt it in your belly button.
Looking down, Anton saw that the recording had reached just over 3 minutes, despite how your pussy desperately clenched around him, a clear sign that you were close to finishing.
His mouth was full of saliva, not even remembering to swallow given how pleasure drunk he was right now.
And somehow, you caught onto this, turning your neck at an angle and guiding his plush lips to kiss you, only a few seconds passing before he inserting his tongue, grunting into your mouth.
“You sound so pretty, baby,” he said in between kissing you sloppily, right before taking his headphones off your head and tossing them on the couch, still connected to the music desk by a thin black wire, “listen…”
He whispered the last word against your lips, maintaining the most gentle look in his eyes as he kept bouncing your ass on his cock.
You meant to say something, but the weak cries of pleasure kept stalling your speech, the words becoming a jumbled mess in your head.
Anton’s strength helped to hold up your shaky body just as you felt your release gush around him, a bit of it seeping onto his thighs as he continued thrusting.
It didn’t take long for him to cum after that too, a beautiful series of moans spilling from his lips as he panted over you, letting his hand slide away to end the recording.
The screen read ‘5:18s’ before Anton reached over to save the track, leaving both of you shocked that you even finished that fast together…
Still a panting mess, your boyfriend held your hips close to his, letting his weight fall back in the spinning chair with you on top of him.
“We should totally do quickies in the studio more often,” you huffed tiredly, leaning back against Anton’s chest as he hugged you close, still inside your pussy.
“Not that I’m disagreeing with you, but maybe after I install an air conditioner in here, we can plan something,” he smiled, not even bothering to wipe the sheen of sweat from his face that inevitably kept your hot bodies clung together.
Your hand found his, fingers idly toying with the rings he wore as he adjusted himself beneath you, “I should probably let you get back to work now since I’ve distracted you enough already—”
“Let’s just stay like this for a little longer,” he interrupted, almost yawning at how comfortable he felt buried inside you in this moment, “please?”
“Of course, superstar,” you replied playfully, nestling into his warmth and letting your eyes fall shut as you listened to the sound of his gentle heartbeat…
✶ taglist: @squoxle, @nikisdubblchococake, @wonbinisbabygurl, @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @watamotee33 @ot7sevenlvr
✶ 🎀 ✶ check out more works like this on my RIIZE masterlist !!
#riize#riize ff#anton smut#riize smut#riize headcanons#riize scenarios#riize anton#riize anton x reader#riize anton smut#riize anton fluff#riize lee changyoung#anton lee#anton x reader#anton riize#lee anton#riize soft hours#riize soft thoughts#riize hard hours#riize hard thoughts#riize x reader#riize imagines#anton fluff
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Classroom duty
word count; 1317 – f!reader
Iwaizumi was on classroom duty this week and he used to hate that. It meant that he got to volleyball practice late and didn’t even have time for a healthy snack. In addition, he had to make some kind of small talk with whoever he was paired with. It goes by the pairs in which the desks are placed and he was never the best at socialising outside of the athletic world.
However, classroom duty wasn’t so bad this time around, because ever since last break, he was paired up with you. Iwa didn’t notice you that much before, he just knew you were bright and kind. And of course, he couldn’t deny to the universe that you were nice to look at, but he would still keep trying to deny it to his friends.
He knew he was fond of you. You with the cartoonish drawings of the teacher on the sides of your notes so you could make him smile in class. You with the lipgloss that looked like it might not taste good, despite how it made your lips look so biteable. You with the evil little laugh every time your paper ball would hit the trash and his didn’t. Yeah, Hajime Iwaizumi was very fond of you.
“Iwa?”
“Sorry,” he shook his head and chuckled awkwardly, glancing around at the pristine classroom. “What did you say?”
You snorted a laugh and turned around pointing to the garbage bags collected by the door and ready to be thrown away. “I said, let’s go?” Hajime spurred into action, happily finishing up here and putting those muscles to good use.
Usually, there was this thing where the people on classroom duty did rock paper scissors for who took the trash, letting the other off. No one knows who started it, but it stuck. Oikawa seemed to believe you and Hajime were the only ones who didn’t follow tradition.
“Why does she even go with you when all she does is hold up the lid on the trash can while you do all the heavy lifting?” Oikawa complained now that his best friend was finally back in his volleyball uniform. Some might say he was jealous.
Iwaizumi shrugged, about to answer when someone else did from behind him, making him turn around and causing Oikawa to lift a brow at the interruption.
“Sounds like she likes you.”
“Mad dog?” Oikawa exclaimed dramatically with a gasp. Kyotani glared at the setter.
“No, we just do it that way, you know?“ Iwaizumi said, sounding a bit like he was fishing to hear it again. Hear that you might like him.
“Okay, whatever,” Kyotani grumbled. Charming as ever. His two per cent of extra respect for Iwaizumi went into that effort and now it was spent.
They went back to practice, and Oikawa forgot about the interrupted gossip as soon as the practice game started, leaving Iwaizumi to mull this over himself. When this week was over, would you stop talking to him so much?
The next morning, you’re both there early to prepare the classroom, and Iwaizumi greeted you with a shy nod. “Last day!” you cheered. Iwaizumi’s eyes followed you for a few seconds as you skipped over to the teacher’s desk, where you picked up the note left by the teacher and then walked over to the chalkboard to prepare it. He liked how you were always so bright, even as you had to be there earlier than everyone else. And then he was happy to see you weren’t invincible, when you looked a little more tired in the evening while walking out with the trash, stubborn smile still directed at him like you refused to give up.
But for now, it’s still morning. “You sound excited, any plans this weekend?” he asked, leaving the mop in the corner after mopping the floors. Then he strolled up beside you, picking up the sponge to go wet it. You turned to glance at him exactly when he turned away. Maybe he’ll ask me out if I say no?
“Not much. Just happy it’s the last day we have to do these chores,” you said, seemingly carefree in adding little hearts and stars around what the teacher wanted. It made Iwa smile as he placed the wet sponge on the little edge beneath the chalkboard.
Wait, she’s happy we’re done? Maybe Kyotani is totally clueless. “Oh,” he said, not meaning to. “Me too.”
“That doesn’t sound very convincing,” you teased, putting the chalk down and turning to him. “You like taking the trash out?”
“Maybe…” he said defensively, clenching his fists and then unclenching them again. “I like hanging out with you.” There, at least he said something.
“Iwaizumi…” He looked at you hopefully but glanced away quickly when he realised his face was burning. “You know we still sit beside each other when the week is finished, right? It’s not like I’ll stop talking to you.”
Iwaizumi’s eyes widened, embarrassment sinking into every nerve of his body because he hadn’t much thought about that. “Of course,” he said first like it was instinctual. I just like hanging out with you alone. That’s what he should have said. Instead, he stuttered out meaningless sounds for a second before the bell rang and students started rushing to their seats, meaning you had to move too.
Oikawa sighed from the entrance to the classroom, in absolute disbelief at how his best friend, the ace of all aces, in his opinion, could fumble so badly for a girl.
“Iwa-chan!” Iwaizumi closed his eyes at the agitating, grating voice that interrupted his peaceful lunch on a bench outside in the sun.
“Shittykawa.”
“Hey! I’m here to help you.” He sat down beside his best friend, opening his bento and stuffing some food in his mouth. Iwaizumi was chewing slowly and waiting to hear more with a disinterested look on his face.
“With?”
“Your love life.”
Oikawa went on a rant about grand gestures, making some very grand gestures himself while explaining, and Iwa could just not figure out why the girls swooned for him when he looked so stupidly invested in his stupid plan for his stupid love life.
“Are you even listening?” Oikawa asked, angrily stuffing another spoonful of food into his mouth.
“Absolutely not. I will not be renting a horse and armour.” And even though that was evidence he had in fact listened, Oikawa was not pleased that his best friend didn’t seem to understand what an expert in love he was. “She’s probably not even interested.”
“Iwa!” Another voice said, making him turn around and almost knock over the water bottle beside his bento.
“That you listen to.” Oikawa mocked from his side, but anything he said went in one ear and out the other once again, when his eyes fell on you.
“Hey,” Hajime greeted you, somewhat awkwardly as you hadn’t chatted much outside the classroom or on the way to the trash containers. “What’s up?”
“Are you doing anything this weekend?” you asked, your words sharing space with a sigh as you had jogged over.
“He’s not,” Oikawa answered, and while that would normally make him annoyed, he just repeated it while still looking at you.
“I’m not.”
“Maybe we can go out for some ice cream? Or a coffee?” you asked further, and it was obvious that you were nervous despite trying to seem confident, not smiling like you usually did. He didn’t answer right away, so you involuntarily went into a word vomit. “I was waiting for you to ask, but then you didn’t and if you’re not interested then we can just forget this, but…” You stopped and looked at him hopefully, one hand on either hip.
“Take him, please.”
Iwaizumi didn’t even need to look to plant his hand over Oikawa’s face before giving you an endearing smile. “I’m interested. Coffee sounds perfect.”
masterlist
/a special thanks to @cottonlemonade for helping me with my writer's block for this one
#haikyu x reader#haikyu#haikyuu#hq x reader#fanfiction#hq#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu x you#haikyu fluff#iwaizumi hajime#iwaizumi x reader#haikyuu iwaizumi#hq iwaizumi#iwaizumi fluff#oikawa tooru#aoba johsai#oikawa
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Hi, I was wondering if you could do an Alastor x Reader, where Reader and Alastor are about to get married, but the day before their wedding, Alastor mysteriously disappears. On their bed lays a note: “I’m sorry, I had to leave.”?
Heart in debt
Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader
Summary: "Until death do us apart" turned into a "Until I see you again in hell", when Alastor, for unknown reasons, decided to become a runaway groom.
Warnings: Gore, bit of angst.
Sorry for the delay dearest, this work took 4 drafts and a lot of re-write, I hope the result is to your liking :3.
The venue was reserved in advance, your mother had chosen the perfect location for you. The catering service was already paid for, as was the florist, band and cake.
Everything was ready.
Looking back, as you finished getting ready for bed, with your nerves on edge, you remembered how your parents reacted when you told them you were getting married.
The best couple ever, welcomed your fiancé, Alastor, as if they had recognized the plague made person. The permanent smile, the aura of death, and well, something they saw in him made them act defensively.
However, of course, your father loved you more than anything in life, so since the ring was of high quality, he had a house on his name, he could provide for you and assure you a future with children, he had no choice but to swallow his opinions and daydream the day when you say he can shoot his brains out.
It was distasteful to you that your father wanted to kill your fiancé, but you knew he loved you and as long as he was with you, Alastor would be fine.
And he was waiting in bed, with his glasses on the edge of his nose, busy with a book. "Excuse me, madam, but if you hold the rifle like that, you will hurt yourself due to the force of the recoil" you remembered your first interaction, his voice was as soft as silk, manners polished up to perfection.
“Then, what would you say is the best way?” you suspected he was going to say something mannish and arrogant, most man didn’t believed women could do nothing except cooking and breed children, judging by the eat shitting grin he was wearing, you were expecting the worst sexist comment.
Instead he asked your permission to help you, after you said yes, he gently moved your arms upwards to accommodate your position, then gently pulled sideways your hips, “Your support leg must be straight and tight, strong, otherwise you will fall back” then a rustle in the bushes alerted both of you, a white back deer.
“You can do it, aim” he encouraged you, watching the majestic prongs of the deer appear at the distance, “Breathe, don’t rush” his breath on your ear sent a shiver up your spine, “Now!” he spoke, you pulled the trigger, he held you during the push back, that kind of rifle was far too intense, even for him, but it had the enough power to kill the animal just fine.
“Do I have something on my face, dear?” he noticed your stare, smiling softly. You walked to him, pecking his cheek softly, “Now there is” he chuckled, setting his book on the nightstand, then he opened his arms to you, which were soon filled with your figure.
"I can't wait for us to be one" you snuggled against his chest, "Me neither, dearest" he pulled you closer, your hair ticking his nose. "At this hour tomorrow I'll be Mrs. Hartfield, I wish your mother were here to enjoy with us" his mom had passes away when he was a kid, but since your mother was friends with her, you got faint memories of the sweet woman that had raised your soon-to-be husband.
"She probably would have made a joyride out of the planning" his sarcasm got you giggling, "You're so mean" He kissed your temple, enjoying your laughter, "Rather honest, darling".
Nothing could go wrong at the moment, you were in cloud nine, until you woke up and noticed Alastor was gone. It was weird, usually he wouldn't move out of bed until you did.
“My love, I'm sorry, I had to leave. I realized I'm not ready. I'll be sending you money to compensate for the expenses. I'm sorry” Signed with his name, his calligraphy on a piece of paper next to his spot.
"Mamma?" You held the telephone life for dear life, barely holding on, "Did something happened my dear? You sound distressed" yes you were, also were under every type of weather, "He left, he left me a letter, and his clothes are gone" You chocked out on your words, tears falling onto your nightgown.
"Like full closet gone?" At her question you yelled back that he was gone, your heart shattered when you took notice that he even took his radio with him.
"I'll be there in just a moment; I'll make some calls okay?" She reassured you, "What happened?" You father spoke in the background, "Alastor left your daughter on her wedding day" Your mother tried to as delicate as she could, "Bastard! Don't worry baby, if he decides to come back, he's good as dead" he made the click of his shotgun sound against the phone, "I knew that son of a bitch was no good for my princess" he shouted.
"Maybe I did something wrong" you sobbed, "No sweetie, how can you think that? The lad wasn't ready, is no one's fault" Your mother tried to reassured you, but truth to be told, nothing could console you at that moment.
You refused to abandon his house, it was briefly yours before he went away, but the real reason was, that you still had some hope he would at some point come back. When he never did, you abandoned the house to live with your parents.
One night, returning late from your make up job at the speakeasy, you felt a rush, a cold feeling up your spine. Looking into the glass on the other side of the street, you caught the sight of a man, walking fast behind you.
Speeding up the pace, you ventured yourself into the swamp, the bayou. You knew Alastor had a hunting shed where you could at least arm yourself, you only had to run faster. Your heels at one point buried themselves in the mud, you had to continue on foot, a plus point since despite the stones and thorns on the way, you managed to reach the place.
You heard the paces even nearer, in a hurry you forced the lock to break, then took a rifle off the table inside, put three bullets in the chamber, then when the silhouette of your stalker opened up the door, he saw the end of the cannon pointing straight at his head.
“Turn back, leave!” your voice echoed through the trees, the wind eating up your voice quickly, “I will not repeat myself” you threatened, pulling the safety mechanism, “Poor little doll, you think you’re capable to-“ shakily, you fired, he was taken aback, nearly fallen to the ground.
“YOU WHORE!” he yelled, pressing a hand to his shoulder, “Leave, now” the rush that firing him gave you, was a sensation you couldn’t describe. It sent a shock of pleasure down your spine, you liked that feeling, even more so, when the one scared now, was him.
“Human scum” you aimed at his head, “See you in hell” his eyes took a less sharp look, his rage turned into fear, then absolute nothingness wrapped in blood.
Karma was a very ironic lady, when you pulled the man’s body to the lake, you tripped on an underwater root, your body barely above water caught the attention of a beast, and sooner than later, you were devoured by an alligator.
One man, one bloodlust rush sent you to hell.
A hundred years or so, after that incident, after surviving another extermination, hidden in a box in the closet. You felt a presence, something following you, you turned a corner, gun in hand, prepared to defend yourself if necessary.
When the footsteps stopped on the other side of the building, a shadow peeked its face towards you, the smile he was wearing was an amused one, especially when he saw you pointing the gun at him.
A slight unusual sound, seemingly a laugh, followed by its hand taking yours, only to leave a gentle kiss on your knuckles. “Rather dashing, are you not?” your fear was not yet dissipated, but it was so gentle, offering its arm to walk you down the street.
“I’ve been eager to salute you, though I must say, you are rather hard to find” his voice was merely a whisper, “Am I supposed to know who you are?” he stopped in his tracks, “My most sincere apologies, but I don’t own a name, I’m simply a reflection, a shadow of a man” it seemed sad, yet conscious of its existence.
“Does this man, who’s footsteps you should be following, knows me?” he nodded in response, following by a quiet “He does”. You thought back how many men you have consorted with, who might have access or knowledge of umbrakinesis, none came to your mind.
“Am I to be afraid of his intentions?” as any other man you have encountered, you’ve never been able to shake the fear, always having to have a gun attached to your waist, “He has none, he thinks he has hurt you enough, with his sudden absence” he had been prohibited to utter the incident, but he found a way to do so anyways without actually saying ‘Alastor left you, and it pains him every day’.
“Alastor” his name fell off your lips like hasn’t done before, in quite a while, “Will he agree to see me?” you asked, wanting at least an explanation, “He’s not the man you remember” the shadow warned, but you were persistent, “I’d like to see him, if he has a moment he can gift me”.
His nonexistent heart shook in his chest, “I’ll see what I can do” that sentence alone brought you more hope than anything in the world, “Can you do me one more favor? I’ll see that you get compensated” now in your home, you took paper and pen, at the same time that you took a tiny bag off one of your drawers.
“This are three pure gold coins, Spanish ones, Cortéz brought this ones himself” you placed the bag on its hand, “I hope you accept this as payment, to pass him a letter?” he nodded watching you take your quill and start writing to him.
When you were done, you melted a bit of candle wax, sealing your heart in that page, then he left with the letter.
“My dearest friend.
How the time has treated us, I hope will never know. If there was a god up there I shall thank him, for it brought you back to me somehow, however subtle presence that is.
Have you seen the changes? Are you still pursuing your ambitions? How have you been all these years? Many questions flooded my mind, as soon as your name was brought to me for the first time in a century.
If it’s not too much of a bother, I would like to see you, an hour is all I desire.”
I’ll await your answer, in whichever mean you see fit.
While reading the letter, Alastor made a pause, his eyes burning with the old feeling, the same crushing one he was hunted by ever since he left under the mantle of the night.
“I am not mad at you, I just wish for clearance, closure.
Happy to make your acquaintance whenever you’d like.
Sincerely, Y/n.”
“Take the package with you, and make sure she’s safe” he ordered his shadow, who flew a couple days later to your doorstep.
A box, laced with a red ribbon. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw a radio inside, engraved with flowers and birds in the most exquisite wood that hell could offer. On top of it, there was a note that read “Play me”.
You sat by the fireplace, leaving the radio on the tea table, your shadow friend taking seat beside you while you push the button that was marked.
“One, two, three, testing? Can you hear me, my dear?” his voice was slightly different, there was a lot of static, but you wondered if that was his or the radio’s. “Yes, I can” yours was a melody he had yearn to be blessed with for years, “Wonderful, I had received your letter” your stomach was in tangles, awaiting his thoughts.
“I do wish to see you, but I have something to tell you first, that may be quite daunting” your breath was caught in your throat, “Go on” you inquired, “The reason why I couldn’t marry you is due my activities in the woods, I am a killer and a cannibal, bringing pain to others grant me pleasure like no other” he laid the truth as plain as it could be, giving that he couldn’t see your eyes directly.
“Oh thank god” he was taken aback by your giggly sigh, “I thought you a…you know, someone that fancy other men” he laughed as well, he found the assumption ridiculous, also he thought strange that you’re so unfazed by his confession.
“You are glad?” you took a moment to find an answer without sounding like you’ve gone mad, “Alastor, are you a man that stalk women down to alleys to feast on their screams?” he answered a firm no to your question, “Are you a man that defiles other women?” another no.
“Do you enjoy killing the scoundrels you hated so much, bullies, the ones that take advantage of the ones with fairer means?” he took a second to pridefully answer “Yes”, you took the shadow’s hand as if it was his, “Then your mother and I can rest in peace, as cruel as you may be Alastor, you still hold your morals high, I cannot say the same regarding your honor” he laughed at the mention of the latter.
“Did the cat caught your tongue?” he had fell silent for a minute, “No, I haven’t been at a loss of words in a while, is all” the shadow nuzzled against your hand, moving it so it could cup his cheek, “Can I pay you a penny for your thoughts? I think I might be saying it wrong; the young ones say it a lot” you giggled, adding to the ache in his heart.
“I didn’t expect you to be alright with it, it leads me to wonder, why are you down here?” you decided to be just as honest as he was, “I killed a man that had ill intentions towards me, and I liked it a little too much” his smile grew devilishly.
“Did he suffer?” if not, he was going to hunt him to grant the man a second demise, one he would ensure he would regret choosing you as his target. “The fear in his eyes, brought a smile to my face” oh he could not be more in love, he made a wise decision to send the radio, if he had you in front of him, he would’ve devour you entirely.
“How did you died?” he made a silent pray, with some hope that at least your death would not have been painful, “I was alligator food in the bayou, in an attempt to get rid of the body, September 4th, 1929” oh how that fact made a twist in his stomach, just like himself, you were eaten alive.
“I am sorry” you laughed, “For what? Your shed was the most convenient, I killed him with your hunting rifle, like you taught me” he remembered, it was the first time he felt actual pleasure in someone else’s warmth, “I can now stop regretting introducing you to the art of the hunt” the shadow placed a kiss on your temple, “Very much so”.
He felt your skin on his lips from within the connection with the sentient, “Will you join me tomorrow, for tea? I’m helping to rise a hotel with hell’s princess” oh so that’s where he was hiding around, you thought, “Fancy, I must be the one warning you now, I do not look…pleasant, I died in a swamp so I wear that fact in the form of my skin” you admitted.
Water nymphs were pretty, you were somewhat that, only more inclined to an eel. You had a long thin fin for hair, red-yellow spotty skin, sharp teeth, light brown scales covering your hips and torso, not to mention your clear blue eyes, not a choice of color but rather a blind looking hue, much like an eel.
“Mon coeur, rest assure, I am more concerned of your reaction towards myself” he was to the limit of nearly arranging an emergency visit to Rosie’s for a new wardrobe, “I cannot wait to see you” until you spoke that lovely sentence, “Nor can I, my dear”.
The next day, without a wink of sleep, Alastor creeped behind the princes, after making the many preparations up in his personal bayou. “Charlie, I have a request” he purred, attempting to mask his excitement, “Sure Al, what is it?” the question pinched a curious itch in the princess, “Yeah, you rarely ask for things” added the fallen exterminator.
“I’ll have a guest today, one that I hold in high regards, so I’ll be excused to my room” excitement also brew in the princess itch, “Sure thing Al, no worries” she cheerly smiled at him. It seemed the fact he had company also touched the spider’s curiosity, or rather, surprise.
“Smiles got a date?” he looked in quite shock towards the feline bartender, who could do nothing more than scoff, “That’s impossible, it must be another soul he wants to own” he soon swallowed his own words given that Alastor materialized next to him, “Husker! Your best whiskey please” the way he utter the name of the former overlord was a warning laced with a threat.
Later that afternoon, a knock made Charlie sprint towards the door, outrunning Niffty. “Hello, I’m Y/n, lovely to meet you, I’m here to see Alastor” you courtesy at the sight of the princess of hell, “Of course, come, come” who eagerly took your hand and pulled you inside, “He’ll be down in a minute”.
She had you sat in the lobby, with the company of Angel and Vaggie, “Sorry if I’m too curious, but how do you know Alastor?” Charlie began the small talk, ever so politely, “If he’s as mysterious as he was in life, your curiosity is well within your right, he’s a dearest friend of mine” the princess was impressed to know her host had more friends than that sleazy woman, Mimzy.
“Aww, how nice!” she also told you that there was no need for any more manners towards her, though you insisted giving the way you were taught ever since you were a child.
“Y/n” your name rolled off his tongue like the beginning of a poem, “Alastor” you turned your head around, before standing up, watching closely as he would not break eye contact with you, as he made his way around the couch.
“Now those two were not just friends” Vaggie had a sly smile on her face, “That sexual tension is delicious” Angel added watching just how slowly Alastor brought your hand up to lay a kiss on your fingers. Your chest rising noticeably from your tight corset, the excitement was palpable indeed.
“Well if I must atone to the intrigue, she was my fiancé” an audible gasp filled the room, “Now, if you’ll excuse us” since never let go of your hand, he was able to swiftly place it on his forearm as he guided you to the stairs, “Princess, bye friends” you curtsied as you followed him along.
He had arranged a white set of garden table and chairs, an ensemble of various sweets and meat treats displayed, along with a set of cups and plates in a remarkable shade of blue.
“Oh, Alastor this is exquisite! You shouldn’t have” you knew the meat was for him, he was never a fan of sweets, but you were, “Of course I had, please have a seat” he pulled your seat for you, pushing it ever so gently when you were already seated.
“Always so gallant” pride rose to his face in the form of a subtle rose color, he managed to hide it when his shadow came from a corner to give you a hug, “Oh hello you, he’s so cute, how come he doesn’t have a name?” if you didn’t knew better you would’ve thought that Alastor had gone green from envy, seeing his shadow receive more pets and attention than himself.
“It didn’t cross my mind, he wants you to do so” he sat in front of you as his tone grew bitter, “Alistair would be repetitive, I think William is the best bet” it intoned a purr, your hands caressing the base of its ears, “He likes it”.
He took the time you were distracted to prepare your cup of tea, adding just the right amount of sugar and mint leaves, that gesture brought your attention back to him, “You remember how I like my tea?” he had done that almost as a reflex, “Somethings never leave the mind” he admitted almost impressed with himself.
“You don’t look half as bad as your warning” you scoffed at his confession, “Don’t lie” you rolled your eyes earning a laugh from him, “I’m not”, but even with his sincerity you were conscious of your appearance, “Alastor, I’m part fish, I have scales, for crying out loud” from across the table he took your hand in his, “And I’m a deer, so? Could be worse” he had a point, you had seen the dreadful appearance of some rat demons, “Uhm, maybe you’re right”.
“Why did you leave?” after a long silence, accompanied by the sounds of the bayou, you decided to break the peace, addressing the ‘elephant in the room’. “I was afraid I would hurt you; you knew my step-father and now, my affairs” you were aware he had been raised by the end of a whip due to the monster his mother married, who you briefly met when your mother had tea with his.
“Alastor, you could never” he may be a killer, but you were certain he would never raise a hand to harm you, “You don’t know that, I am this, Y/n” it was your turn to give him a reassuring squeeze to his hand, “Did you loved me?” his eyes, quite more honest than the permanent smile he wore, widen to your question.
“I would’ve done anything to prevent harm from coming your way” you scoffed, “Yes, but did you loved me?” he let go of a breath he had trapped down in his lungs when he finally admitted the truth: “I still do”, but there was more to it, “I feel as…as if I had a debt to you, one I have no idea how to repay, nothing I think is enough” and indeed he had a mental list, burning hell to the ground was the top one choice.
“Is your hand one of the options? Your heart, perhaps?” the wish to wipe his head on the pavement had vanished a long time ago, forgiveness was perhaps the toughest thing to accomplish, but your pride wasn’t that big.
“Is not enough” he shook his head, believing that his heart was either too small or nonexistent, “It would, with time, you do owe me a century” you didn’t wanted to let go of his hand, it was the first long contact from him on years, “I’m…not worthy of you” he tortured himself ten times more than hell already did, but you just shrugged, “Who is then, if it’s not you?”.
“You didn’t marry anyone after I left?” you certainly didn’t, “No” he had imagine you at least could love someone again, be happy, “Why?” but you held him in your heart until the very day you died, “Silly hope” that broke him, if he had a choice, his smile would’ve fade in a heartbeat.
“I’m sorry” he pulled gently of your hand, leading to sit across his lap, “Water under the bridge” he delight himself in your hand caressing his cheek, lightly, almost asking for permission, when unknowingly he was yours.
“Not for me” he pressed his ears to the back of his head, allowing you to caress him, as his arms hugged your figure close to his chest. “We have eternity, if you’ll have me” he was so glad you mentioned that option, it gave him the opportunity to pull from his pocket a beautiful diamond ring, rose gold.
“Your mother’s ring?” you were in shock at the same time as excited, yet scared as well, “Will you leave again?” he cupped your cheek, placing a kiss near the corner of your mouth, “Hell will freeze over first” you imitated his gesture, “Then, you can ask” his smile softened.
“Y/n, will you marry me?” just as he slipped the ring on your finger, you whispered in his ear, “I’ll have your head if you leave again, yes” sending a shiver down his spine, “Please do” a kiss sealed the engagement just like the first time he had ask.
#alastor x reader#cursed cat alastor#radio demon#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel fanart#alastor the radio demon#alastor#alastor hazbin#alastor hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel alastor#hazbin hotel#hazbin angel dust#hazbin hotel lucifer#lucifer hazbin hotel#hazbin lucifer#hazbin art
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Finally, Back
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader
Summary: When you hear a loud noise in the middle of the night, you think someone is breaking into your apartment, turns out it's just Bucky who is back from his mission.
Word Count: 820
A/N: Hey everyone! Thank you for helping me decide what to post, with voting on this poll. I hope you like it!
Divider made by @firefly-graphics
Masterlist
Being in a relationship with a superhero wasn’t always easy. Especially if you are a civilian and living a normal life. Well, actually it’s not that normal anymore since you started dating Bucky Barnes. Now you always have to worry when he is on a mission, but when he gets home, Bucky immediately drives to your apartment. Bucky loves you so much and so do you. You had been dating for a few months when you decided to move in together.
You love living with Bucky. From waking up cuddled up with him to going for a walk, cooking together and watching your favorite shows or movies together. Another thing you like to do is reading next to each other and then discuss what happened in the book.
You were currently cooking dinner, normally you would cook with Bucky, but this time you were cooking alone because Bucky was on a mission, which he had already been for three weeks. You weren’t sure where he was or when he would be back. You just knew that it was a dangerous mission and to protect you, Bucky didn’t want to tell you anything about it.
Before Bucky left, he promised you that he would come back home to you and you’re believing and hoping that it’s true and he will come back home soon.
You missed Bucky so much and felt so lonely without him. You started to miss him a lot and everything felt different when he wasn’t here. Especially coming home after work to an empty apartment and no one is waiting for you. Bucky also missed you so much and couldn’t wait to see again. He did his best on this mission, so that he could be home as quickly as possible.
It was in the middle of the night and you couldn’t sleep again. You missed Bucky’s arms around you and how he always gave you a kiss on the forehead before saying goodnight. After lying there for a while, you started to overthink and couldn’t get the idea out of your head that something might have happened to Bucky. You heard the wind outside and some strange noises. Suddenly you heard a loud bang, and someone mumbled something you couldn’t understand. You sat up in your bed and listened carefully. Suddenly you heard someone opening your apartment door.
Shit, someone broke into your apartment. You thought and reached for the gun, you put in the bedside table in case something happens. Bucky taught you how to use it, even though he hoped you would never need it. You stood up and took a deep breath. You had to be brave for Bucky.
You quietly opened the door to your bedroom a bit, held the gun in front of your body and then said loudly.
“Wherever you are, I have a gun and I’m not afraid to use it!” You opened the door more and took a step out of your bedroom. Suddenly the light went on and you saw Bucky standing a few steps away from you.
“Doll.” He said softly.
“Bucky you’re home.” Tears began to form in your eyes as you watched Bucky walking closer to you. He gave you a soft smile and said.
“Yeah, I’m finally back home with my girl.” He looked at the gun and then back at you.
“I’m sorry for scaring you, doll.” Bucky said and then you realized that you still had the gun in your hands and got nervous.
“Let me take the gun, doll.” Bucky said and you nodded. Then he gently took the gun from your hand and put it in his back pocket. After that, Bucky opened his arms and pulled you into a hug.
“I missed you so much.”
“I missed you more, sweetheart.” You don’t know how long you stood there, hugging each other and telling the other one how much you love and missed each other. After a while you turned away and Bucky placed his hand on your cheek and his metal hand on your back and pulled you into a passionate kiss. When the kiss ended, you smiled at each other and Bucky took your hand.
“Let’s go cuddle.” Bucky said and you giggled, which made Bucky smile. He kissed your forehead and then you went to your bedroom. Bucky changed into different clothes and laid down next to you. Then you laid your head on his chest and Bucky wrapped his arms around you.
You laid there for a while when Bucky suddenly broke the silence.
“Let’s go somewhere, just you and me.” You looked up at him with a smile and Bucky gently rubbed your back.
“Yeah, let’s do this.”
Bucky and you then started talking about some places that you both have wanted to visit for a while and you can’t wait to see these beautiful places with Bucky. After a while, you nodded off in your boyfriend's loving embrace.
Taglist:
@marvelogic | @eviebuggg | @buckys-wintersoldier | @nicoline1998enilocin | @kandis-mom | @sergeantbarnessdoll | @noellez-best-life23 | @beaubbdoll | @sgtgarricks | @ratchildspartan | @scott-loki-barnes | @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 |
@mrsbuckybarnes1917
| @brnesblogposts
#bucky barnes#james bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x female reader#Bucky#bucky x reader#bucky x you#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes one shot#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes imagine#winter soldier#marvel#marvel x reader#marvel x you#marvel one shot#marvel fanfiction#marvel imagine
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Hickey Prank
jj maybank x reader
requested by @shirasimpson
a/n: sorry this took forever!
The idea for the prank came out of nowhere. You saw it on tiktok and wanted to try it with JJ, wondering how he was going to react. You were excited because you don’t normally play pranks on him.
The prank seemed simple enough. JJ was supposed to be coming over soon so you had to act quick. You took out your eyeshadow palettes and got to work.
First you started with a pinky red. You applied it to one side of your neck, then near the front of your neck and then finally on the other side of your neck. So you had three fake hickeys littering your skin.
Next you added a purple shade. You took a tiny brush and applied it to the red circles. Then lastly you added some blue. You had to admit you did a good job. They looked really real. You weren’t sure if JJ was gonna believe you that they were fake, after you prank him.
Shortly after you put on the fake hickeys you herd a knock on your door. You quickly got up and rushed to your bed. You pulled up the covers all the way up your neck and to under your chin, so he couldn’t see them when he first saw you.
“Come in,” you put forth.
“Baby you will never guess what Pope just did!” JJ came in already about to tell you a story.
“What?”
“Well we were at the château and we were talking and then all of a sudden he took a huge hit of my vape and-“
“I’m listening,” you announced.
“You know what never mind it does not matter, I’ve missed you.”
JJ got on top of you and gave you a kiss on the mouth. The kiss was getting more heated and JJ moved his hand down to hold your hip and he moved the comforter down. What JJ didn’t expect is to see hickeys displayed on your neck.
“Um what the fuck!?” JJ stood up, straddling your legs.
“What?” You faked confusion.
“Who- What- How?” JJ stuttered.
“Let me see this shit,” JJ tilted your head up and inspected your neck. He ran his thumb over them and scowled.
“Who did this to you?” JJ seethed.
“Did what?”
“Your neck, did a vampire bite your or something?”
“I don’t… I don’t know I-“
“You don’t know? Y/N, are you cheating on me? Be honest.” JJ said appalled.
You stayed quiet, not sure how to answer that.
“When I find out who did this to you, they are a dead man,” JJ spat.
“JJ relax.” You tried to calm him down as you sat up.
JJ was now pacing in your room. You didn’t think JJ would act like this.
“No I can’t relax, you are cheating on me and you don’t even care!” JJ shouted.
“What am I not good enough for you?” JJ showed sadness and anger in his eyes.
“JJ let me explain-“
“Who was it? Was it Rafe I swear to god if he touched you-“
“JJ it was a prank. Look!” You got up and grabbed a makeup wipe and smeared it on your neck. Then you showed him the wipe with the eyeshadow remains.
“You- oh a prank? you really got me there.” JJ scratched his head.
“Y/N I was loosing my mind. I thought you- Oh i’m so glad you’re not cheating on me.” JJ ran up to you and lifted you up. He spun you around over his shoulders as you laughed.
JJ set you down and cupped your face as he gave you a fiery kiss.
“Now get on the bed, I’m gonna mark you up with some real hickeys so everyone will know you’re mine.” JJ instructed.
#jj maybank#outer banks#obx#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank imagine#jj maybank fanfiction#jj maybank angst#jj maybank fanfic#jj maybank fluff#jj maybank x girlfriend!reader#jj maybank x fem!reader#jj maybank x female!reader#jj maybank x y/n#jj maybank x you#jj outer banks#jj obx#jj maybank outer banks#jj maybank concept#jj maybank one shot#jj x y/n#jj x you#jj x reader#outer banks fanfiction#jj outer banks x reader#jj obx imagine#outer banks x reader#obx imagine#outer banks fluff#jj maybank blurb#jj maybank obx
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Thinking of Boyfriend!Choso
He’s not a shy twink who stutters after every word.
Tribute/ coping post after jjk chapter 259. 🙏
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. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆
Boyfriend!Choso who spent countless days, weeks, even months just trying to put a name to the feelings you gave him whenever you were around.
Boyfriend!Choso who confided in his little brother about said feelings, and when he was told that what he was experiencing was an emotion called “love”, he wasted no time in literally telling you the next day.
Boyfriend!Choso who (unknowingly) confessed to you in the most inconspicuous way imaginable. (He didn’t even notice what he was saying until he saw your awe-stricken face. You said yes ofc!)
Boyfriend!Choso who assumed his boyfriend role in a heartbeat, and couldn’t help but feel proud of himself for pulling you.
Boyfriend!Choso who always makes sure that you feel your best, because to him, you always look your best. Don’t feel confident in your outfit? Better believe he’ll be your number one hype man.
Boyfriend!Choso who never, ever, ever, ever makes berating jokes towards you, regardless of the context.
Boyfriend!Choso who always makes sure you get everything off your chest. Never hide your true feelings from him. If you’re mad at him? “Okay, let’s sit down and talk about this.”
Boyfriend!Choso who you never end up fighting with, because he’s the embodiment of “we live, and we learn.” He listens when you come to him about something that he’s done/ or not done, and he promises to do better, and it’s not like he’s just saying that because he really does do better.
Boyfriend!Choso who’s quite inexperienced in a lot of things, and spends his free time learning about the ins and outs of relationships.
Boyfriend!Choso who always looks uninterested in what you’re doing, but is actually quite the opposite. (He’s always paying attention, making sure you don’t hurt yourself, or need help.)
Boyfriend!Choso who always looks a bit stunned whenever you look in his general direction, but always smiles that small, tight-lipped smile whenever he makes eye contact with you.
Boyfriend!Choso who loves being needed by you. Can’t reach something on the top shelf? He’ll get it for you. Scared to go in a spooky, cursed filled tunnel by yourself? Don’t worry, he’ll go in first, and clear the path for you.
Boyfriend!Choso who you never have to worry about possibly cheating on you. He is literally infatuated with you. The two of you could go out in public, and all eyes would be on him, and his focused solely on you. (If it isn’t you or his family, he could really care less.)
Boyfriend!Choso who takes the time to learn the things he knows you like. He would teach himself how to cook, so you wouldn’t have to spend so much money on take-outs. He’d learn how to do basic chores for times when you weren’t quite feeling like yourself.
Boyfriend!Choso who always puts your needs before his own. Are you hungry? Sure, he’ll whip up some of your favorite food, and have it ready in no-time. Are you tired, and don’t feel like going to the school? He’ll just call Yuuji, and ask him to inform Gojo about your absence. Anything you could possibly need, he’ll do it all.
Boyfriend!Choso who is naturally protective of you, and won’t hesitate to throw himself into incoming danger for your sake, even if he really is outclassed.
Boyfriend!Choso who used to question what he was, finds himself radiating with new found confidence that you’d given him.
Boyfriend!Choso who isn’t exactly clingy, but at the same time he is. (He follows you around like a lost puppy, with an aura of a guard dog.) Wherever you go, he goes, unless you say otherwise.
Boyfriend!Choso who loves to let you fall asleep on his chest. (Your weight grounds him in all the right ways.)
Boyfriend!Choso who simply can’t imagine how his life as human would’ve turned out, had it not been for you.
Boyfriend!Choso who is the most loving, doting, caring, supportive, and protective boyfriend you could ever ask for.
Boyfriend!Choso who loves you with all of his cursed heart.
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[cw: g!p liz, pregnancy, breeding kink, lactation kink]
i wasn’t meant to write anything for this bcs i was literally just sitting eating breakfast this morning when the thought of baby daddy jiwon graced my brain and i laughed at it for a second but then it got serious so now ya’ll have to indulge me bcs??? 🤤🤤 also not me saying that that one baby daddy yuj was the only time i’ll write abt pregnancy and yet here we are…
kinda long bcs i rlly loved the fluffy stuff so hehe have fun 💖
we’re all thinking about the same thing, right? your chaotic mess of a girlfriend jiwon feeling as if her whole world was turned upside down when you sit her down and give her the news in the morning where the two of you were supposed to go on a cute picnic date 😭 you can’t tell me she wouldn’t sit there for at least half an hour taking everything in, merely just staring at the wall with her mouth hanging open for so long you thought it would get stuck that way 😭😭 and ykw you were worried for a bit!! the two of you certainly didn’t plan on this happening and this was the clear result of both of you forgetting to use protection that one night where you were just eager to feel the other’s skin,, you half expected jiwon to be angry and lash out at you but no! ofc weird ass jiwon takes a deep breath before pulling you up to your feet and hugging you 🥺
she figured that the news was even harder on you since you were the one carrying the kid,, and being the amazing girlfriend she was, she prioritized your feelings over her own,, comforting you, whispering sweet nothings in your ear when you broke down in her arms not bcs you were upset abt being pregnant or anything but bcs you were just relieved that jiwon wasn’t going to abandon you 🥺🥺 and you’d still go on that picnic date with her! it would be awkward at first but best believe she’s promising to be there for you and with you every step of the way whether or not you decide to keep the baby 🥹💞
i believe in the ‘jiwon would be a wonderful soon-to-be-daddy’ agenda! due to her genuine fear of fucking shit up, she’d probably read countless parenting books 😭😭 sure she knew how to take care of a little kid or two but not a baby! let alone one that she made! she’s reading books, getting ahead of the game and researching and possibly buying all the stuff your kid needs, asking her parents for advice… jiwonie just wants to be the perfect partner and parent 🥺💕 you’d find her in the kitchen one day practicing how to make milk—as in making sure it’s the correct temperature and that it tastes good.. don’t ask her how many times she has actually finished a whole tiny bottle of baby milk 😭😭
and now to the nasty parts! ☺️ if i remember correctly i said this same thing about baby daddy yuj (🤤… sorry—) but jiwonie would sometimes find herself staring at you and thinking back to the night she got you knocked up! it would be worse with her though—unlike yujin’s massive ego showoff, she’s more… dreamy about it? 😭 like she’s really basking in every detail of that night from the stumbling-into-your-bedroom shit while giggling, practically ripping each other’s clothes off while making out, jiwon surprising you with her hidden strength when she suddenly just pushes you into the bed and quite literally gives you the best fucking of your life?? all that of that along with seeing that growing bump in your stomach and your now swollen tits heavy with milk, well… nobody can blame jiwon from getting hard on the spot!
also becomes a clingy perv 🤤🤤 obsessed with backhugging you randomly and kissing your neck bcs it makes you giggle bcs ur ticklish and she loves hearing you laugh BUT ALSO you whimper and get goosebumps all over your skin so it just… turns her on so much 🫣 loves caressing your little baby bump while she half listens to you yap about your day and half touches you all over 😳 you don’t notice what she’s doing until one of her hands is squeezing your inner thigh and the other is making its way up to your breasts,, “our kid’s very lucky.. they have the prettiest mom in the whole world.” and she’s leaving marks all over your neck and shoulder while she feels up your soaked panties… 🫣🫣
jiwon’s a love-maker so expect to be gently fucked while standing by the sink! has definitely memorized each and every spot that has you scratching her arms and curling your toes so you were just completely at her mercy the entire time! the contrast of jiwon telling you the sweetest and prettiest things in your ear while she softly fucks you into an orgasm that has you seeing white?? see, she’s all hot and sexy while fucking you but then you turn around after getting situated and you see a wet spot in the middle of her pants.. even she would laugh and cover up her red face 😭 but she can’t help it okay?! it’s totally normal for someone to cum while fucking their partner.. jiwon just happened to be so stinking cute while doing so that you can’t help but take her to bed afterwards 🤭
now as we’ve established before, jiwon’s always taking care of you and that pretty much tripled every time you wanted to do something ‘drastic’ in terms of sex!☝️ jiwon is always careful when in bed with you, only choosing positions that were safe and comfortable for you even if they weren’t for her! even if you have her rolling her eyes to the back of her head while you ride her, jiwon’s still looking out for you! whether it may be asking if you’re okay, if anything hurts, or just singing your praises to ease you 🥺🥺
jiwon’s so weak against dirty talk too?? 😭 especially when you tell her you want to make a big family with her bcs she knows that means you want her to get you pregnant over and over and yk what that does to her brain?? it almost literally shuts it down bcs she gets sooo turned on at the idea 😵💫 sometimes she even thinks about it when she’s cleaning up the house or at work and has to run to the bathroom bcs her fucking cock just wants to burst out of her pants 😭 baby can’t control it, she always needs you :((
ah yeah and the moment your tits start leaking?? it’s so over bcs you’d think that jiwon wouldn’t get even more obsessed with you than she already is but you’re so wrong‼️‼️ teases you and calls you ‘mommy’ a lot while licking and sucking away at your breasts.. and eye contact is a must bcs she loves the flush on your cheeks as you watched her lap all of your milk up! 🫣 and she definitely makes a joke abt being the one to drink your breastmilk if your kid ever gets tired of it but the two of you know damn well it’s not just a joke 🤭 jiwon also loves massaging your breasts to ease the tension in your shoulders and god her dick just gets so fucking hard when she feels her hands get wet w your milk 😵💫
in all of your years dating jiwon you never could have guessed that there was a gentlewoman in her! definitely the perfect balance of being a good mommy and a very charming daddy 🥺🥺 speaking of which, her knees turn into jelly whenever you ‘jokingly’ call her ‘daddy’ in and out of bed 🫣 she’s the cutest baby daddy ever 💕
#ive smut#ive x fem reader#ive x reader#ive imagines#ive scenarios#liz smut#liz scenarios#liz imagines#liz x fem reader#liz x reader#kim jiwon x fem reader#kim jiwon x reader#kim jiwon smut#kim jiwon imagines#kim jiwon scenarios#girl group x fem reader#girl group smut#girl group x reader#girl group imagines#girl group scenarios#g!p liz#g!p kim jiwon#g!p ive#g!p idol
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Cooper Howard | The Ghoul x fem!Reader
Tags: Teasing, Flirting, Developing Relationships, Injury, Kissing, Cunnilingus,
Synopsis: It had been apparent from the moment you met him that The Ghoul was Cooper Howard, your favorite actor. He had no idea that you knew who he was, so how could you not have some fun with it?
Author’s Note: i’ve watched nothing but bridgerton recently and now i keep finding myself writing the way they speak
also i’ve got no clue how radiation and water interact to just pretend what i wrote is true okay?
also if you got the notif for the first upload of this fic, no you didn't :)
Taglist: @ancientbeing10 @alex-does-art-things
The poster you stood in front of was in remarkable shape, with only hints of discoloration littering the page. The frame that held it had stood the test of time and came out victorious, with only a few scratches across the glass to show for it. A fond smile grew as you read the words emblazoned across it: The Man from Deadhorse.
A man was also pictured riding on the back of his trusted steed, pistol in hand, aiming it toward an unpictured outlaw. A man that you knew to be Cooper Howard, the actor who you’d grown quite fond of during your life in the vault. You’re sure you’ve watched his entire discography or at least all his films that your vault had, which was a significant amount.
So when said actor captured you after being exiled from your vault, albeit a little less human-looking, you couldn’t believe it. It took a second to clock it, but you managed to piece two and two together when you heard him talk and watched how he wielded his gun. Hell, he was still wearing the same clothes from the movie whose poster you stood in front of. It hadn’t been that difficult.
Of course, he had no idea you knew who he was. You didn’t utter a word, not from when he first captured you to when he begrudgingly let you tag alongside him or even when you’d formed a bond. Friends, maybe not, but you trusted each other, and that was enough.
You couldn’t help but admire the man on the poster, if just for a few more moments. Anyone could see that Cooper Howard was handsome, and his charisma added to that. As incredible of an actor as he was, you would admit that you didn’t watch his films just for his skills. He’d been your childhood crush, following you into your teenage years.
And maybe it was still around, lingering at the back of your mind. Perhaps that would explain the butterflies in your stomach whenever you looked at The Ghoul. Even though his face had completely changed, you still believed he was just as handsome as before becoming a ghoul. His charisma and wit had just become sharper, and even though he sneered more than smiled, you still recognized that grin from the movies.
You snuck a glance at your traveling partner, Cooper Howard, The Ghoul. He had yet to see the poster, or maybe he chose to ignore it. Either way, his back was to you, rifling through the desks of the building the two of you had entered. It was becoming evident now that this place was a movie theatre, someplace you thought, until now, they had entirely made up to mess with you in the vault. They knew your love of movies; why not tell you there was a place where you could see them on giant screens?
“You gonna stare at that fuckin’ poster all night, or are ya gonna help me?” So he had chosen to ignore it, then.
You refrained from sighing, not wanting to annoy the man. Instead, you got to work on the other side of the theatre, where a few doors stood. Glancing into the first room, you found it filled with garbage. Literal garbage. Bags were piled from floor to ceiling, and even after all the time that had passed, it still smelled. Holding back a gag, you shut the door as best you could. Gross.
The next door was a little more pleasant. It was a bathroom with three stalls lining the rightmost wall and a few sinks. A first aid kit had been bolted on the wall, and a slight, victorious noise left you when you found two stimpacks, a roll of bandages, and a small canister of water. You quickly deposited those into your bag before continuing to the stalls.
Two were empty, but the third had something in the toilet. When you peered in, you chuckled. A teddy bear sat on the edge, a newspaper in its hands, a pair of broken glasses on its face. No matter how vicious the surface world was, people still managed to find humor in the small things, and you cherished it.
The third and final room was locked, so taking out a bobby pin, you got to work unlocking it. It took you some time, as you weren’t nearly as quick as The Ghoul was, but eventually, the door swung open. Inside was what you presumed to be once an office, a desk with a terminal flush against the wall. A large safe was tucked into the corner, nearly hidden by bookshelves. Grinning at your new prize, you bent down in front of it, pulling the bobby pin and screwdriver back out.
If the door took some time, the safe took even longer. A small pile of broken bobby pins had started to grow at your feet, and your back was beginning to ache from bending over for so long. You could feel that you were close; you just needed to move it a little more to the right…
Snap!
“Motherfucker…” you grumbled under your breath, adding another pin to your collection. The idea of admitting defeat flashed through your mind, but you shook it away. You needed to prove this to yourself.
And to The Ghoul.
You heard the sound of footsteps drawing closer, stopping when they reached the room you were currently in. You didn’t have to turn around to know who it was; you could hear his spurs. “The hell is takin’ you so long?” His gruff voice stopped you as you were about to insert another bobby pin.
“This fuckin’ safe,” you sighed, resuming your attempt at lockpicking. Your back was really hurting now, and so you got down onto your knees, which helped a little. The concrete floor was uncomfortable, but sitting offered some respite, and you bent forward, returning to work. You had expected The Ghoul to have already left, so you were startled when you felt him crouch beside you.
His gaze was locked onto the safe when you glanced at him, and he shifted almost nervously beside you. Weird. “Lemme do it.” His tone held no room for argument, yet you still shook your head at him.
“No, I’ve got this.”
“You’re gonna run outta fuckin’ bobby pins before ya open it,” he jabbed, nudging the pile with his foot. You didn’t bother to hide the glare you sent him.
“Then I’ll just take yours.” You were pleasantly surprised when you turned the lock and were met with resistance an inch before it had turned all the way. You were close.
“Oh, I’d like to see ya try, sweetheart.”
“Maybe I already have.” You had shifted the pin to the right and were met resistance way later, and a victorious smile grew on your face. “C’mom, baby, open up for me,” you whispered, voice dangerously low, and you missed the way the man beside you shifted even more.
He didn’t offer any more arguments, and you let out a small laugh when the safe door finally opened. You’d barely gotten a glimpse of the contents inside when you saw a gloved hand sneak inside. You smacked it away, glaring at him. “Open your own fuckin’ safe,” you chastized.
He matched your expression, human-looking eyes glaring daggers into you, but you didn’t let up. It was a quick standoff, but he eventually backed down, not before muttering something under his breath. You didn’t hear what he said, but you didn’t care.
Opening the door further allowed more light in, allowing you to see your prize. A stack of pre-war bills sat on the bottom, and you tucked them into your bag. There was a silver locket, which you also grabbed, knowing you could get some caps for it. A few unlabeled chem bottles were on the top shelf, all added to your bag.
But you were most excited about the revolver tucked behind all the chems. It was heavy, heavier than the pistol on your hip, and in surprisingly good condition. The barrel's metal was mostly unscratched and shiny in the dim light. The wood grip, a deep brown oak, was cool in your hand, and it contrasted beautifully with the steel of the rest of the gun.
You raised a brow when he held a hand out expectantly, moving the gun a bit closer to your chest. “Are you gonna give it back?”
He let out a deep exhale. “Yes,” he responded before making a ‘give me’ motion with his upturned hand.
After some hesitation, you set it in his palm, observing as he tested it in his hand. His expression was difficult to read as he evaluated it, his eyes carefully roaming the gun. You had to bite back a laugh when he raised the gun to the right of him; he looked like he did on the poster you just saw.
You must’ve done a worse job than you thought, holding back your laugh because he was fixing you with another glare. “Sorry,” you began between chuckles, “it’s just… you look like the guy on the poster.”
The Ghoul was good at hiding his emotions, and his face remained unreadable as he glared at you, but you swore you saw a bit of alarm behind the fire in his eyes. “Do I, now?” He asked, seemingly unbothered.
“It’s not a bad thing,” you teased, an idea forming that made you grin. “I’d take it as a compliment, being compared to as handsome a man as Cooper Howard.”
The heat in his stare dimmed, replaced with a hint of surprise. He blinked at you for a moment, unsure what to make of your words. You continued. “What, you thought I watched his movies just for his acting skills?” You were careful not to use the word you, not wanting to let him in on the secret.
When he continued to just watch you, at a loss for words, you finally stood, your back crying out in relief. You stuck out a hand, gesturing to the gun in his hand, and he slowly gave it back to you. “Thank you,” you smiled sweetly at him, your confidence growing at how you managed to stun the man. “I’ll meet you out there. Help yourself to whatever is left in here.” With that, you tuned and left, your sweet smile turning to one of victory.
Unbeknownst to you, the man you’d left in the room had a slight smile on his face before quickly coming to his senses. A groan left him, and he ran a gloved hand over his face as if he could wipe away the heat he felt in his cheeks.
If he could blush, he was sure he would be bright red right now.
─•~❉᯽❉~•─
“Why the hell were ya kicked outta your vault, anyway?”
Well, that certainly wasn’t the question you expected to hear today. You glanced behind you at The Ghoul, continuing down the long-since abandoned street the two of you were on. Even though it had been a few months, it still hurt, the wound never fully closing. “Why’d you ask?” You responded after some hesitation.
“Do I gotta have a reason?” He shot back, and you sighed.
“I suppose not,” you agreed before taking a few moments to formulate your answer. “They thought I was a threat to their way of life. I was too inquisitive for my own good, didn’t work well with authority, and constantly challenged said authority.”
“You? Disagreeable? Never.”
“Well, fuck you too,” you huffed, turning away from him. Here you were, telling him about possibly the worst thing that happened in your life, and he was insulting you. Asshole. For a moment, you thought he was being genuinely friendly, wanting to learn about you. You were bitterly disappointed to find the opposite.
A tense silence hung in the air as you continued to walk, not bothering to glance at him. He didn’t deserve your attention right now. Your somewhat positive mood was now ruined, both from having to bring up your past and because of him.
“They really kicked ya out for that?” He finally spoke. It wasn’t an apology, but you could tell it was an attempt at relieving the dispute.
“I think they were afraid I would change everything, and you know there’s nothing vault dwellers hate more than change. Even if change would improve their lives, they’d rather stay with what they know, not wanting to risk losing comfort and familiarity. They just couldn’t wrap their heads around the fact that change is a good thing. I don’t think they ever will.” The words had just tumbled from your mouth, anger making you ramble freely. When you finished, you finally glanced behind you, cringing at yourself.
To your surprise and relief, you didn’t find a look of judgment on his face. Instead, he seemed almost pensive, not expecting to hear you voice your opinions like that.
“Do ya miss it?”
“Fuck no. Even with all its dangers and obstacles, life up here is infinitely better than any life I could’ve had in a vault. At least up here, my life is mine. I make my own choices, for better or for worse. I exist for myself, not to fulfill some corporation’s quota or for some experiment. I am myself.” You let out a sigh. “There is one thing I do miss, though.”
He didn’t respond but nodded, gesturing for you to continue. “I miss the movie room,” you chuckled, almost bittersweet. “It’s silly, I know. But I miss lounging on one of the couches and getting lost in the story.”
“Did ya have a favorite?” He asked, and you swore he was reminiscing a bit as well.
“Oh, plenty. The Wizard of Oz, The Man from Calabasas, and The Silence of the Lambs, to name a few.”
“The Man from Calabasas?”
“Have you seen it?” You knew damn well that he had done more than seen the movie. He had been the lead star of it.
“Somethin’ like that,” The Ghoul muttered in response. “You weren’t kiddin’, were you?”
“About liking Cooper Howard’s movies? No, I certainly was not. Hell, I’d go as far as to say he’s my favorite actor.”
Like always, his expression towards your response was unreadable. “Would ya, now?”
“Uh-huh. I had a crush on him growing up. Maybe I still do,” you laughed lightly, shrugging your shoulders. He faltered a bit, his eyes widening a fraction, and you had to return to facing forward, unable to hide the smirk on your face any longer. It was so fun to tease him. Every time you’d seen a poster with him on it for the past weeks, you were sure to point it out, always commenting on him.
“He’s much older than ya, sweetheart,” he finally responded after some time.
“It wasn’t like I was dating the man,” you laughed. “Not that it would’ve deterred me, though. I always liked them older.”
The man behind you cleared his throat, and when you turned, you saw his eyes locked onto you, his jaw clenched, and a quickly growing fire in his eyes. Oh, this was so much fun. “You got something against that? Not that I’d change my mind based on your opinion.”
“Not a problem at all.” His words were clipped, strained. You halted in your tracks, holstering your gun, the revolver you’d just found a week ago. He cocked his head, watching you closely, stopping a good few feet behind you. His shoulders tensed when you approached him, his jaw never unclenching.
“Everything alright?” You asked, innocence dripping from your words. “You seem… tense.”
“I’m fine,” he bit out. Giving him enough time to stop you as he spoke, you raised your hands to his coat, fixing the crooked lapels. Once they were straight, you ran your hands down them, resting them on his chest. You couldn’t feel it through all of this fabric, and it was quiet enough that you couldn’t hear it, but a small groan rumbled his chest.
“If you say so,” you teased, running your hands up one last time before letting him go. You took a few steps back, glancing around at the dilapidated scenery. “We should probably find shelter soon. Only an hour of sunlight left.”
“I… sure.” You’d never heard him sound so uncertain, completely taken aback by what you had done. A part of you worried that you had taken it a step too far, but you knew the man. He would not have let you touch him if he didn’t want it. As you turned back forward, you failed to see how his eyes trailed down your body hungrily, gloved hands lingering where yours had just been.
─•~❉᯽❉~•─
Even though the bed was the comfiest thing you’d laid in in months, sleep would not come. No matter how much you tossed, turned, and readjusted, you just could not sleep. It wasn’t like your mind was preoccupied by anything.
Well, that wasn’t true. You’d found your mind wandering to your traveling companion more and more these past weeks since you’d stopped and fixed his jacket right in the middle of the street. You thought he had been more affected than you, but ever since then, you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about how he felt under your hands and what he’d feel like elsewhere.
With a huff and warm cheeks, you sat up, giving up on falling asleep. Slipping on your shoes, you kept your steps light as you crossed the room and made a pointed effort not to glance at the sleeping silhouette of The Ghoul. Grabbing your gun, you stepped outside, the cool night air doing wonders for your flushed skin.
You sat on the edge of the barely standing porch of the house you were sleeping in. You balanced your gun in your lap, and from the pockets of your jeans, you pulled out a beat-up pack of cigarettes and a barely functioning lighter. It took a few moments for the flame to catch, the clicking noise filling the silent night, but you eventually had a lit cigarette between your lips, the smoke swirling comfortingly around your body.
You felt the wood creak before you heard it, and you whirred around, gun pointing at the new figure behind you. The figure let out a familiar chuckle, and you sighed in relief, putting the gun back down. “Didn’t mean to wake you,” you muttered as you turned back.
The Ghoul sat beside you with a sigh, arms extended behind him. “You’re gonna attract unwanted attention with that,” he muttered, ignoring your previous statement.
“Like you?”
He laughed. “You’d be lucky if the worst you got was me.”
“I suppose,” you conceded. “But your company isn’t exactly… unwelcome.”
He merely hummed in response, and you offered him the cigarette. He eyed it briefly, eyes flicking from it to your face, but he eventually grabbed it. Skin grazed yours, and it almost startled you when you realized he wasn’t wearing gloves, and it felt scandalous to see him without them. Still, you kept your composure, observing him silently as he took a drag.
“Can’t sleep?” You heard him ask after some time, and you shook your head. “Me neither.”
“Sorry if my tossing and turning kept you up.”
“Ain’t your fault,” he sighed, passing the cigarette back to you. “Is… are ya alright?”
He’s been surprising you with the questions lately, and you couldn’t help the slight disbelief on your face, nearly choking on the smoke. “Just a lot on my mind” is what you finally went with. It was not entirely a lie, but it withheld specific details.
He thankfully seemed to clock that you didn’t quite want to talk about it, so he left you in silence, taking the cigarette you passed to him. You both whipped your heads to the left when you heard the sound of something groaning, followed by a few more groans from other entities. Whether it was human or not, you couldn’t tell. He quickly smashed the cigarette under his boot, standing up slowly, hand inching towards his gun.
His other hand extended towards you, and you didn’t give yourself time to second-guess before you interlocked your finger with his, letting him pull you up. You had barely gotten to your feet when he was dragging you inside, nearly making you stumble over the planks of wood sticking up.
Still, both of you managed to get inside quickly, the door being kicked soon shut by him, and you locked it. Peering out the blinds, you saw a horde of ferals shuffle their way down the street, some gathering where you were just sitting. You and The Ghoul probably could’ve bested the group, but you never knew. You noticed out of the corner of your eye that said companion wasn’t looking outside like you were but instead trained on you.
When the horde continued further down the street, you let out a breath before switching your attention to the man. “What’s wrong?”
His eyes scanned over your face, something unreadable in them. You gasped lightly when you felt him squeeze your hand, your fingers interlocked with his. So that’s what was making him act so weird.
A small smile graced your face as you looked down at your intertwined hands, neither of you making any move to pull apart yet. His hands were rougher than you were expecting, and even though you could feel the grooves of his marred skin, his fingertips were incredibly calloused as they rubbed into your skin. It was the most lovely thing you’d ever felt.
You’d never seen him regard something so gently when you looked back up at him. It was like you were catching a glimpse of the man he once was before the war. For a moment, you caught a glimpse of the actor, yet this was no scene from a movie. This moment was real, two lost souls finding some semblance of comfort with each other.
But just as soon as the gentle moment had started, it came to a screeching halt, and The Ghoul took a step back, pulling his hand from yours. You tried not to let it sting, but you couldn’t help the slight hurt in your heart as he backed away. “Good night,” he muttered out, his voice cold.
You simply nodded in response, not trusting your voice, and you heard the receding footsteps of The Ghoul as he marched back towards where he was sleeping. You stayed locked by the door for a good moment, unable to move, and embarrassment and sadness locked you there.
You don’t even remember walking back to your bed. All you remember is that you were suddenly looking up at the ceiling, sleep even further than it was before. You swore you could still feel his hand in yours, the heat from his skin, the texture of his skin beneath your fingers. Sighing, you rolled over on your side, back turned away from where The Ghoul was sleeping.
Sleep didn’t come to you that night, and when you finally got up hours later and saw the way The Ghoul sat hunched over the table, you knew he didn’t sleep either.
─•~❉᯽❉~•─
It had been days since that night, and things had been incredibly tense between the two of you since. Hours of travel, once filled with light conversation, were now done in silence. Soft glances were now guarded, lingering touches nonexistent. It was distracting, constantly on your mind, overanalyzing everything you’d done or said to him.
Maybe that distraction was the reason you now sat bleeding out, half lying against an old car, your fingers clutching your stomach uselessly. Blood poured out between your fingers, every breath feeling like you were being stabbed all over again by that Raider. It had been a poorly hidden ambush, yet they still managed to catch you off-guard, your thoughts elsewhere.
It had been fine until you’d gotten cut off from your companion and forced into a small alleyway. You’d managed to take down most of your attackers, but one had gotten lucky with a stab to the stomach. They currently lay dead on the floor as well, shot by your gun, but that had been after they got you.
The sounds of gunfire had ceased about thirty seconds ago, making your ears ring. Or maybe it was the blood loss. You couldn’t tell.
You heard the sound of loud footfalls, and you reached for your gun with a crimson-covered hand, which made it difficult to grasp the weapon. Your arm shook like crazy as you raised your gun, training it on the entrance of the alleyway, waiting as silently as you could. Small gasps of pain kept pouring from your lips, and you blinked back tears.
Relief flooded you when you heard your name being called by The Ghoul, his gruff voice never sounding so lovely. You managed to croak out a response, your arm falling to your lap, unable to hold it up any longer. He called out your name again, even closer this time, but you couldn’t bring yourself to respond, your energy quickly leaving.
When you saw that familiar silhouette at the entrance, you couldn’t help the small smile on your face despite your incredible pain. He was by your side in a second, or maybe you blacked out for a bit. Everything was so blurry now. You cried out in pain when you felt him press down on your stomach, and you tried to squirm away, but he was much stronger than you.
You sagged against the car, unable to fight him any longer. Your eyes felt heavy, but you tried your hardest to keep them open, especially when The Ghoul practically shook you awake. “You better keep those fuckin’ eyes open,” he snapped, and if you were more conscious, you would’ve been able to detect the panic in his voice.
“Are you threatening me?” You wheezed out.
“If that’s what it takes to keep ya awake, then yes.” You felt cold air hit your stomach as he lifted your shirt, examining the wound. You didn’t look at his expression, not wanting to know how bad it was.
“At least take me out to dinner,” you chuckled before a cough rattled your body. Something warm and sticky fell from your lips, making The Ghoul curse, who hurriedly looked for something in his bag. A small first aid kit clattered to the ground, and you cringed when you saw him pull out a needle and thread.
“After this, I’ll take ya out to as many dinners as ya like,” The Ghoul murmured, and because of how hazy your vision was, you missed how his hands shook as he threaded the needle.
“Is that a promise?” It was starting to get hard to get the words out now, as they were beginning to slur.
“You know I don’t make promises I can’t keep, sweetheart.”
“I love it when you call me sweetheart,” you admitted, unable to stop yourself. Your smile turned into a wince when you felt the needle pierce your skin. He muttered an apology, but you just shook your head and leaned forward slightly as he worked quickly to sew your wound close. It was just close enough that you could see him clearly, and you unabashedly let your eyes roam his face.
Blood loss was kicking in now, and the world was spinning. You tried hard to keep your eyes open but found them fluttering close even more frequently, your head drooping to the car. He shook you gently whenever he felt you do it, promising that he was almost done. “We gotta get this close before I can give ya a stimpack.”
“You’re pretty,” you whispered before almost immediately breaking into laughter.
“And you’ve lost a lot of blood,” The Ghoul shook his head, working diligently.
“I mean it,” you practically pouted. “You’re so pretty.”
“I’m sure I’m quite the fuckin’ catch.”
“You’ve always been a catch,” you teased, and you tried to bring up one of your hands to caress his face, but it fell limply to your lap.
For the first time, his eyes shot up to yours, confusion on his face. But they quickly returned to his work, shaking his head again. “Whatdya mean by that, sweetheart?” He asked, trying to keep you talking. Or maybe he was genuinely curious.
“The entire time I’ve known you, I’ve thought you were beautiful,” the tiniest bit of tension left The Ghoul, “but even before then, I’ve always thought you were the most handsome man I’d ever seen-”
“You don’t mean-”
“Guess that’s why I’ve still got a crush on you,” you sighed, continuing despite his objections. But you didn’t get to see his reaction, the weight on your lids growing unbearable, and you let them fall close, unconsciousness finally claiming you. Your name being said like a plea was the last thing you remembered.
─•~❉᯽❉~•─
You weren’t sure how long you were out for. All you know is that the room you woke up in was unfamiliar, and everything in your body hurt. Wincing, you tried to sit up, only to collapse in pain, your stomach in agony. A shadow fell across your face, and through tears, you managed to see the familiar face of The Ghoul above you.
He looked as terrible as you felt, the deep sockets of his eyes somehow even more pronounced. It looked like he hadn’t slept in days, the whites of his eyes bloodshot. His clothes were more rumpled, and he had discarded his hat somewhere in the room. If you weren’t in so much pain, you would’ve asked him why he looked like, well, shit.
His lips moved, but you couldn’t hear the words, your ears ringing too loudly. You fought back when you felt a needle enter your skin, but you relaxed when the pain began to dim like a bright light covered with a blanket; the pain was still there but not nearly as noticeable.
After a few more seconds, your ears finally stopped ringing, the man's gruff voice replacing it. “Just some painkillers,” he explained.
You tried to thank him, but your voice was too dry, and you broke into a coughing fit. With a lot of help from him, you could sit up enough to drink, greedily gulping down the canteen of water that he presented you. Despite your objections, he pulled it away from you when he deemed you had enough.
You were starting to feel more alert now, and your vision was not as fuzzy as it was moments ago. The Ghoul sat in the chair you just noticed beside your bed, a soft sigh leaving him. The room was still unfamiliar, and you realized he had probably just dragged your unconscious body into the closest possible building.
Glancing at him, you watched as he leaned back into his chair, his eyes never leaving your face. His expression was, as always, unreadable, but you couldn’t help but feel like you’d done something wrong. Well, something besides getting stabbed. “How long have I been out for?”
“Almost three days.”
“Thank you.”
“For?”
You gestured to your body. “For saving me.”
In response, he made a vague noise, his arms crossing over his chest. His stare became scrutinizing, and you felt like he was picking you apart. You could feel your heartbeat accelerate, your nerves becoming terrible, yet you forced yourself to hold his gaze.
After what felt like hours of tense silence, he finally spoke. “Whatdya remember?”
“Well, not much, to be honest. I remember getting injured, and then you helped me, and then I passed out.”
“D’ya remember anythin’ you said?”
You furrowed your brows. “No? Did… did I say something bad?” When he didn’t respond, you grew even more worried. “Look, if I said something to offend you-”
“How long have ya known?”
You blinked. “What?”
“How long have ya known who I am?” His voice was surprisingly steady, not leaning towards any particular emotion.
Internally, you were kicking yourself. Of course, you just had to let your secret slip while you were bleeding out. You figured it useless to attempt lying, so you just sighed deeply. “I’ve known since the moment we met,” you confessed.
“So this entire time-”
“Yes.”
The chair creaked, and you jumped when you felt his elbows lean on the edge of your bed. “And ya didn’t fuckin’ think that was important to tell me?”
You leaned as far away from him as you physically could. “I’m sorry.”
He laughed at that, a bitter sound. You felt his fingers creep toward your hand beneath the covers, noticeably bare of gloves. Something dark crossed his features when he made contact, his fingers running along your hand tortuously slowly. You whispered out his name as a question, confused but not against this conversation's direction. “You know my real name, sweetheart. Might as well use it.”
Your throat suddenly became dry, but you didn’t dare reach for the canteen perched in his lap. “Cooper,” a small smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, “I thought you’d be… angrier.”
“Oh, I’m fuckin’ pissed.” You saw his eyes flash momentarily, making you want to shrink into a ball and hide. You’d never been on the receiving end of his anger, and you hated it. Or at least that's what you told yourself. “But there’s far more important things on my mind right now.”
“Like what?”
“Like keepin’ ya alive, for example.” His teasing tone turned somber. “You almost bled out.”
“Oh,” was all you could think to say. You hadn’t realized how severe the wound you’d gotten was. Tentatively, you lowered the sheet that was around your body, then raised the still bloody shirt that now had a hole in the front. “My poor shirt…”
He scoffed. “Ya got stabbed in the gut, and you’re worried ‘bout your shirt?”
“Do you know how hard it is to find intact clothing up here?” You shook your head before examining the stitched-up gash on your stomach. Well, the once stitched-up gash. Thanks to the magic of stimpacks, he had been able to take out your sutures, leaving behind a barely healed scar across your stomach. You supposed it was a miracle, too, that it hadn’t caused severe damage to any of your intestines. “Thanks, doc.” You tried to jest.
He laughed, but it sounded forced even to you. His gaze locked on where he rubbed your hand, looking like he wanted to say something. “Was… was there anything else?” You asked carefully.
He exhaled sharply, and for a moment, you thought he wouldn’t respond. “Did you mean it?”
“Mean what?”
An exasperated chuckle left him. “Everythin’. Every comment, every tease, every single fuckin’ thing you did that’s kept me awake for nights on end. Did you mean it?” To any other person, the way he re-asked the question would’ve sounded angry, pissed off. But you knew better. There was almost a sense of desperation in his words, his gaze boring into you as he waited for a response.
“I am many things,” you began slowly. “A liar is not one of them. I meant it, every single thing.”
He paused. “Were your words only meant for the man I was?”
“Can they not be for the man you are as well?”
Your words seemed to catch him off-guard. “I guess they can,” he sighed, tilting his head down to break eye contact. Without thinking, you freed your hand from the blanket and his touch, and you gently tugged his chin until he was looking at you again. You were both equally surprised by the action, but you didn’t let yourself back down now. Not when you were so close to what you wanted.
You gave him a moment to pull away from your touch if he was so pleased, and when he didn't, a gentle smile grew on your lips as you adjusted your hand so that you now held the side of his face. It was a stretch to do so, but seeing how he practically melted into your touch was worth it. You wondered how long it had been since someone had held him like this.
“I rather like the man you are,” you admitted softly, your thumb running over his scarred cheek. “The man who put up with my constant teasing. The man who’s become the person I trust the most in this fucked up world. The man who just saved my life.” You sat up slowly, much to the complaint of your stomach and The Ghoul, but you ignored both.
With one arm holding you up, you tugged him forward until he was half on the bed, one leg between your own, the other still firm on the floor. His hands braced on either side of you, face inches from yours as he leaned above you. He was close enough that you could feel his chest rise and fall, now slightly quicker than before.
Human eyes flicked down to your lips, an unspoken question to which you already knew the answer. Instead of speaking, you let your actions do the talking, closing the distance until your lips brushed over his. But you didn’t let them connect. You wanted him to do it, to show you that this was what he wanted.
You heard your name said softly, a mix between a plea and a warning. It was the most beautiful thing you’d ever heard.
“Cooper,” you sighed in response, and that seemed to do the trick. He finally closed the space between you two, lips surprisingly gentle against yours as he kissed you. It was everything you wanted, and you sighed happily, fingers trailing patterns across his skin.
After a few moments, he pulled away, much to your audible displeasure, and chuckled. “I’m still fuckin’ angry at ya, sweetheart.”
“I’d expect nothing less,” you laughed lightly, “but be mad at me later.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because I want you to kiss me again.”
“So fuckin’ needy,” he teased, a slight grin on his lips, but he brought himself back down to your lips. “I like it.”
He didn’t give you a chance to respond, his lips crashing against yours with noticeably less gentleness. You didn’t resist as the force of it pushed you back gently onto the bed, and your hand fell from his face to the front of his jacket, grabbing a fistful of the material. His lips were almost feverish against yours, a barely contained desperation in the act, and you felt fingers brush against your cheek. They were just as rough as you remembered.
The bed shifted as he finally put his entire body on it, one knee between your legs, the other resting by your hip. One hand still worked to keep himself from resting his whole body weight on you, the other tracing patterns into your skin, just like you had done to him. If he had any reservations left, they no longer existed. The only things on his mind were the way you felt beneath him and the way your lips felt against his.
You gasped when you felt him move down your jaw, down to your neck, kissing and sucking the delicate skin there. No longer able to hold his jacket comfortably, you switched to holding the back of his head, nails scratching lightly against the skin. He practically shuddered, his arm buckling slightly, some of his body weight falling onto your lower body.
A groan of pain tore through you when you felt him press against your stomach. It was almost funny how he seemed to jump off of you, hooded eyes immediately becoming alert. “Fuck, sweetheart, I’m sorry-”
“Get back down here,” you practically growled, reaching up for his shirt again. He stopped you, redirecting your hand to the bed, securing it with a firm hand when you tried to break free.
“You’re injured,” he countered, stopping your continued attempts to break free with a look.
“And?”
“And we just got ya stable. I’d be even more fuckin’ pissed if three days of work was all for nothin’.”
“We’ll just be careful, then,” you protested, desire making you irrational. You’d just gotten a taste, but you needed more of him. Hesitancy flashed across his features, making you nervous. “Unless you don’t want to…”
“Oh, I fuckin’ do,” he chuckled. “But I ain’t doin’ anythin’ to ya until you’re healed.”
“Anything? Not even a kiss?”
He sighed, shaking his head, but his face had a fond expression. “You’re difficult, ya know that?”
“I’ve been told,” you laughed. “So is that a ‘no’, then?”
You had to stop yourself from laughing when he kissed you. When he pulled away, he rested his head against yours. “There. Satisfied?”
Far from it. “For now,” you sighed, lying comfortably on the bed. Now that you didn’t have anything exciting in your near future, exhaustion slowly began to creep back in, making you yawn. He chuckled, moving to get up, but you halted him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Lay with me? Please?”
You could tell that he was ready to argue against it, but he relented. With a smile, you were able to roll over to one of the sides of the bed with limited amounts of pain, giving him enough room to squeeze in behind you. Immediately, you felt one of his arms tuck beneath the pillow, the other resting on your hip, being careful to avoid your injury.
With his front pressed against your back, you let your eyes fall close, much less violently than previously. Your breathing eventually evened out, and you let your body fully relax against him. He must’ve thought you were asleep because you felt him brush away any hair that covered your face, and even though you couldn’t see him, you knew he was observing you.
You manage to be still when his lips grazed the shell of your ear, a featherlight kiss, and his following words were just as light. “I’m glad you’re alright, sweetheart.”
─•~❉᯽❉~•─
You couldn’t believe the sight in front of you.
You’d accidentally stumbled upon it, traveling a little too far off the beaten path, but you were so glad you did. In front of you were scattered pools of water, about six total, ranging from five to twenty feet across. Steam billowed off the top of the pools, the water bubbling by some unseen force, disturbing the clear water's surface. Set into rust-red stone, you couldn’t tell how deep the pools were, but you were eager to find out.
Stepping toward the edge of one of the larger pools, the rational part of your brain finally kicked in, and you took out your Geiger counter. You expected to hear the annoying ticking noise that accompanied said pools of water but were surprised when it remained silent.
After checking it a few more times to be sure, you sat back on your heels, debating. It was then you finally heard the footfalls of your companions, huffing in annoyance because you ran off on him. “The hell ya doin’?” He asked, wary of how close you sat next to the water.
“There’s no radiation!” You called back, glancing behind at him. “At least not enough to be a problem!”
The Ghoul crouched beside you, glancing from you to the pools of water. “Are you sure?”
“I’m positive. Look!” You returned the counter to the water’s surface and received the same results.
He hummed curiously. “This must’ve formed after the bombs.”
“What is it?”
“They’re hot springs,” he responded like it was the most obvious answer in the world. “Stick your hand in it.”
Cautiously, you let your fingers dip beneath the water's surface and were startled to find it quite warm. A small laugh left you as you pulled your fingers out, wiping your hands on your pants. “Are they safe?”
“Well, sayin’ as there isn’t any radiation, and no creature can live in waters like this, I’d say so.” He had just gotten the words out before you stood again, toeing off your ragged shoes and socks. “The hell you doin’?” He asked again, bewildered by your actions.
Your bag hit the rocks with a thud right next to your shoes. “I’m getting in,” you stated, leaving no room for argument. “I’m filthy, sweaty, gross, and I desperately need a bath. You see any other options around?”
“Well, no, but-”
“Turn around if you don’t wanna see me get undressed.” Your gunbelt and armor were next to join the ground, close enough to the edge that you could grab it if you’d like.
“And if I wanna see?” he asked when your hands reached the hem of your shirt, still partially stained from the event the week before, a hastily sewed-on patch on the front.
You finally glanced down at him, and he watched you with rapt attention. “Well,” you laughed lightly, “then enjoy the show.” Your shirt was off in one movement, joining the pile on the ground. You didn’t bother to look at the new scar on your stomach, which had become significantly less painful over the past week.
You knew you were toying with something dangerous, a line the two of you had been dancing on over the past week. Things hadn’t gone beyond kissing and lingering touches, and you were ready for more. You wanted more, and if the way he seemed to restrain himself each time he kissed you, you knew he felt the same.
Your jeans were next, leaving you in only your undergarments. He was utterly transfixed, excitement visible on his face as you reached for the clasp of your bra. It had been weird; over the past week, you felt like he was becoming better at not hiding his expressions. Or you were getting better at reading him.
You playfully threw the garment at him when it slid off your shoulders, obstructing his view momentarily. During that, you let your underwear slide down your legs, and you kicked it off your ankles, letting it join the pile. For a moment, you let his eyes hungrily roam your body before submerging yourself beneath the water’s surface. It was just deep enough that you could stand, and your head and shoulders were free, letting you breathe freely.
The sound you made when the hot water met your skin was unintentionally filthy, a mix between a moan and a curse. “Fuck, that feels good,” you laughed airily. The water was nearly unbearably hot, but you quickly grew acclimated.
Leaning back, you let your head submerge beneath the water, wetting your hair. At this angle, you could see him still, stunned, and still crouched by the water. Grinning, you adjusted back upright before reaching him, resting your arms on the rock face, and you rested your chin on them, looking up at him. “Are you getting in as well?”
That question broke him out of the semi-trance he was in, and he shook his head, much to your displeasure. “Someone’s gotta keep watch,” he grumbled.
“You’re no fun.”
“Is that so?”
You nodded. “C’mon, just for a little bit.”
“Sweetheart, you and I both know that if I get in there, it won’t be for ‘a little bit’.”
“And that’s a problem because…?”
He shook his head again but removed his gloves, making your grin wider. Backing away from the edge, you watched his hat come off next, then his gunbelt and coat. When he reached the buttons of his shirt, he paused, glancing into your eager eyes. “Turn around,” he requested, and you responded with a confused glance. “Do ya want me in there or not?”
You were still confused, but not wanting to push his comfort, you complied, distracting yourself from the scenery around you. It was hard to hear over the rolling water, but you listened to the sound of clothing hitting the rocks, making your breath hitch in excitement. Anticipation made your skin crawl, although not unpleasantly, and you waited for the sound of water splashing as he joined you.
But after a moment passed and you were met with just the continued sound of bubbles, you shifted nervously yet didn’t dare look back. Time seemed to crawl on agonizingly slow, your breaths turning shallow. You nearly screamed when you felt an arm wrap around your midsection, still mindful of the injury, but relaxed almost immediately when the familiar timbre of his voice hit your ears. “Not even a peek, I’m impressed.”
“Is it truly that shocking that I can follow directions?” You scoffed, letting him ease you against his now bare chest. The contact was blissful, and you sighed out in content. “Can I turn around now?”
He made a noise of consideration before resting his head on your shoulder. When he spoke next, it was almost straight into your ear. “In a moment. Lemme hold ya for a bit longer.”
When he received no objections from you, he pressed a kiss to your shoulder. His other arm joined with the other, keeping your body wrapped up in his arms. It was a bit of an awkward angle, but you managed to reach around to hold the back of his head gently. You could feel him smile lightly when your nails scratched lightly.
“So, how’d you figure it out?”
It took a few moments of wracking your brain until you finally realized what he was talking about. “We’re having this conversation now?”
“Don’t see any better time. Besides, ya can’t run away from the questions now.” It was true; over the past week, you’d found an excuse not to answer his questions, finding something else to do as an excuse. Now it looked like he had you right where he wanted.
Groaning, you hung your head, much to the amusement of him. “It was your voice, mainly,” you admitted. “When I first heard it, I thought I was just reaching. Then, it just clicked after watching the way you wield your gun, the way you carry yourself, everything. You even look a bit the same,” you chuckled.
“And you thought the best thing to do next was to fuckin’ tease me?”
“You have to admit, it was kinda funny.”
You felt his shoulders shake, a light chuckle leaving him. “I ain’t admitting to nothin’, sweetheart.”
“Are you still upset about it?”
“Not for the reason you’re thinkin’.”
That piqued your curiosity. “Oh?”
“I wished ya told me sooner because I wouldn’t have had to wait this long to do this.” His arms tightened the tiniest amount around you. “D’you know how hard it's been these past weeks, months, haivn’ to bite my tongue every time you make one those comments, those touches.”
“Months?”
“That’s how long it’s been since we met, right?”
Shocked laughter left you, and you tried to turn in his arms. You could only get halfway around before his grip stopped you, but you had turned enough so that you could look at him. You weren’t expecting him to look so confident about his response; the muscles of his brow raised like he was daring you to say something. “You’ve wanted me for-”
“Since the moment ya stumbled into me that night.”
“You tried to kill me.”
He shrugged. “Still knew that I wanted ya.”
“How… romantic,” you scoffed.
“And they say romance is dead.”
“You did promise to take me out to dinner.”
“Out of everythin’ from that conversation, that’s the fuckin’ thing you remember?” You felt his arm go lax for a second, but that was all you needed. Turning, you finally were facing him, your chest pressed into him, making him groan appreciatively. Your arms wrapped around his neck in an embrace, and you felt his hands begin to trail up your back. One settled on your ribs, the other continued up to the base of your neck, brushing your hairline.
Any words you were about to say fell short when you felt him scratch lightly, a choked noise leaving you at the action, your body shivering. Your mind went blank, and he just chuckled knowingly. His fingers ran up even more, your body reacting similarly, and you both knew the conversation was over for now.
You gasped when you felt him grab a fist of your hair and pull back; it was not rough enough to be incredibly painful, but it still stung a bit. But it wasn’t like you could feel the pain anyway, your desire being far more powerful. He leaned down into your space, face hovering above yours as he tilted yours back. “What, cat got your tongue?” He teased you for your sudden silence, which was uncharacteristic.
“Fuck you,” you managed to whisper, making him laugh.
“We’ll get there, sweetheart.”
His lips were on yours before you could respond, your senses now overwhelmed with him. His other hand wasn’t shy, grabbing and kneading at every piece of skin it could find, making you groan against his mouth.
You laughed when you began to feel him back up to the edge of the pool, barely able to keep up with his eager movements. But you were confused when you felt his hands grip your waist and lift you so that you were now sitting on the rock edge. It was a warm day, but even the warm air wasn’t enough to stop you from shivering from the temperature difference. “I thought we were supposed to be getting clean,” you tried to protest.
It didn’t even cross your mind that your entire body was exposed to him now, and if you did remember, you doubted you’d even care. Not with how his eyes roamed your body like he was trying to memorize every inch of you. His hands gripped your thighs, pulling them apart so he could stand between them. He stood level with the base of your throat, wasting no time before he lavished it with kisses and bites.
“We can do it after,” he murmured against your skin. “I need to fuckin’ taste ya, Now.”
Involuntarily, your legs tightened around his body at his words, laughing lightly in shock. You don’t think you’d ever had a partner so eager to go down on you. “Cooper-”
“I fuckin’ love hearin’ you say my name. I bet ya sound even better screamin’ it.” His lips had moved down to your breasts, fingers digging into the plush of your thighs.
You tried not to think too much about the implications of his words. And you tried even harder not to let your body react any further, not wanting to fan the flame of his ego anymore. But you’d be a liar if you said you weren’t enjoying his cockiness. “Is that a promise?” You echoed the question from the previous week.
You felt him smirk. “I wasn’t kiddin’ when I said I don’t make promises I can’t keep.” A soft nip made you jump slightly, and he soothed over the hurt with his tongue. “Lie back, sweetheart.”
Excitement and arousal buzzed in your veins, and you required no further encouragement before you were resting back on your elbows, unable to feel the stone beneath you. He pulled away when you leaned back, something almost like pride in his eyes at how easily you complied.
He adjusted your legs so that they now rested on his shoulders, the heels of your feet resting on his back. It gave him perfect access to your center, and between your thighs, you saw how his eyes turned impossibly dark. They flicked to you one last time, looking for any hesitation, before leaning forward until you felt his breath caress the sensitive area.
But he didn’t make contact where you wanted. Instead, you felt his lips ghost the insides of your thighs, teasing you. Groaning, you tried to close the distance with a roll of your hips, but he shut that down quickly. His hands no longer held your thighs open. Instead, they were splayed across your hips, keeping you pinned down to the rocks as he continued his light touches.
You’d forgotten how strong he was, and you found yourself unable to move your hips any longer, rendered completely still by him. You didn’t have to see him to know he was loving tormenting you, inching closer and closer to where he knew you desperately wanted him. “I thought you said you needed to taste me,” you reminded him, and repeating his filthy words made you warm.
“I know what I said,” he breathed. “Consider this payback for the weeks of fuckin’ torture you’ve put me through.” A frustrated noise left you, and you tried to move away, but to no avail. Teeth dragged against your skin, up towards your center, halting right before reaching it. “You don’t get to run off on me now, sweetheart. You’re gonna take what I give ya.”
“Cooper, please.”
“As amazin’ as you sound beggin’, you ain’t gettin’ what you want that easy.” One of the hands holding you down moved up, calloused fingers grasping at your breast, making you whine. If you thought that because he let up one of his hands, you’d be able to move your hips freely, you thought wrong. All you could do was lay there and comply, much to his evident enjoyment.
You’re not sure how long you sat there, time crawling on tortuously slow, as he continued to tease and rile you up. Occasionally, you felt his lips ghost over where you wanted him, and you’d think he was finally having mercy on you. But when he passed over, too light to provide any relief, you knew he was just working you up more. No matter how much you pleaded or begged, he didn’t relent, a wicked gleam in his eyes.
But he was only human, and he, too, had a limit to his patience. It broke when the hand groping your breasts snuck between your legs, fingers spreading you open. His breath hitched when he saw the evidence of your arousal. He sighed, an air of finality in the sound.
“Oh, fuck this,” you heard him growl before his mouth was finally on you. Startled but oh so relieved, a jumble of words left your mouth, a mix of his name and curses. His tongue swept through you desperately, face burrowed deep between your thighs, a groan tearing from his lips as he finally tasted you.
He was incessant, addicted now that he’d gotten a taste. Your thighs tightened around his head as he ate you out, but he didn’t seem to mind. It almost seemed to urge him on, knowing he was making you feel that good. He still had a hand holding you down, the one between your legs teasing at your entrance, making your eyes flutter close.
When his tongue began to focus on your clit, you could barely keep yourself propped up any longer, and your arms started to shake. Desperate for something to hold on to, you grasped at the hand on your waist. He adjusted so that his forearm now pinned you, leaving his hand free for you to grab, which you did eagerly. It would’ve been funny how the two actions juxtaposed each other if he wasn’t making you see stars.
His name was being said like a mantra, turning more and more breathy as pleasure began to build. It turned louder when you felt one of his fingers ease into you, and you could feel the various groves of his skin, all adding to the stimulation you felt. Slowly, he began to pump it in and out of you, his mouth continuing to toy with your clit. Peeling your eyes open, you dared to glance down at him, gasping lightly when you found him looking at you.
He looked so eager, so hungry, his pupils blown out with lust as he watched you slowly begin to fall apart. You were caught in a trance, unable to look away from him anymore. Not that you’d want to look away from such a glorious sight.
Keeping your gazes locked when you felt a second finger join became a challenge. The tension that he had so beautifully wound up inside you was on the verge of snapping, your breathing growing faster as you neared your release. You didn’t have to say anything to him; it seemed like he knew your body as well as you did. As he moved his fingers, you felt him crook his fingers in a ‘come here’ motion, making you cry out.
Your thighs around his head begin to shake, your heels digging into his back almost painfully. You were so close, your grip turning vice-like on his hand. It was when you felt his lips latch onto your clit and suck when you finally fell apart. You had no idea how loudly you cried out his name, the sound of your ears ringing blocking out any other noise. White-hot pleasure washed over your body, your one arm finally going boneless beneath you, your back hitting the rock.
It took a few moments of deep breaths to get your heart under control, the ringing in your ears becoming background noise. You didn’t have the energy to prop yourself up yet, so you just strained your neck until you could look at him. He was still between your thighs, fingers having been withdrawn, but he continued to lap at your release. You could feel the smirk on his face when you made eye contact.
Overstimulation quickly made itself known, and with a groan, you finally sat yourself up. Easing your legs off of him, he still didn’t let up, and so with a half-hearted shove, you backed him up. He didn’t stay away long, helping your back towards the edge of the rock, lips once again making contact with your throat. His hands caressed your body, but he didn’t do more than touch, giving you a few more moments to recover. “Told ya I’d make you scream,” he muttered, making you scoff.
“I wasn’t that loud.” Was I?
“Scared off a few birds.” He laughed when you slapped his shoulder in mock offense, making him look up. “Ouch,” he deadpanned.
You rolled your eyes, shaky hands grabbing the sides of his face and bringing it close to yours. You snuck a quick kiss to his lips, but even though it was short, you could still taste yourself on it. It made your head spin, and you offered no objects as he tugged you into the water, the temperature shock making you gasp.
You’d barely gotten your footing before he was on you, all lips and teeth against your skin. Hands skated down your slides, beneath your thighs, tugging one of them up until it wrapped around his body. You gasped when you felt his hard length press against you, and you rocked your hips eagerly. It got the response you wanted, a groan of your name leaving his lips.
“C’mon, Cooper,” you gasped, hands grasping his shoulders, bracing yourself. “C’mon baby, let me feel you.”
An almost pained noise left his lips before he thrust into you, the mix of your arousal and the water around you allowing him to enter with ease. He didn’t give you any time to adjust, setting a brutal pace almost immediately, his hips snapping up into you. Your nails dug into his scarred skin, and once the initial shock wore off, moans tumbled from your lips.
Water splashed up because of the movement, hitting the rocks, but neither of you paid any mind. How could you, when he was fucking you like it was the only thing he could do, wanted to do? His hand remained on your thigh, helping keep your leg propped up. His other hand held the side of your face, your mouth hung open and panting, and he pulled you in for a messy kiss.
His tongue swept into your open mouth as if he owned it, a groan leaving you at the filthy act. There was so much happening, and like before, you could do nothing but just let it happen, reciprocating as best you could with soft noises and touches.
A particularly hard thrust left you gasping, breaking away from the kiss, choosing to just rest your head against his. Pleasure blossomed across your body, and you felt that familiar tension return. Sneaking a hand between your legs beneath the water, you began to rub at yourself, making you clench around him.
“Hands up,” you barely managed to hear him hiss through a groan. “Keep those hands on me, sweetheart.”
You complied, returning your touch to his shoulders, but your lost additional pleasure was only momentary. His hand replaced yours, nimble fingers working you as well as you could, maybe even better. His fingers moved in slow, hard circles, a complete contrast to the rapid movement of his hips. The two different sensations drove you wild, your breathing coming out as short, hot pants.
You could feel yourself getting close, and you knew he could feel it. The movement of his hips had turned more desperate about thirty seconds ago, and you knew he was close as well. Running your hands up his neck, you pulled his face against yours when they reached his jaw, on the verge of bruising your lips with how aggressively you smashed them against his. “Cooper, I’m so close,” you whispered between kisses.
“Cum for me, sweetheart, fuckin’ fall apart.” You couldn’t tell if he was asking or pleading, but you would fulfill his request either way.
It took a few more presses of his fingers and snaps of his hips until you came, shouting his name like you’d done before. You could barely see through the haze the satisfactory smirk on his lips, pleasure once again washing over your body. Every muscle in your body tensed, and that smirk immediately fell from his lips, turning into an almost scowl as he staved off his own release. “Where-”
“Inside.” You didn’t have to hear the whole question to know what he was asking.
For the first time, he moaned, too caught up in his own pleasure to care. “Fuck, you gonna let me fill ya?” A small laugh of disbelief left him when you nodded. “Goddamn…” His words trailed off as he chased his release, the continued thrusts of his hips bordering on overstimulation. But you didn’t have to wait long, because with a much quieter groan of your name, his hips stilled, and you felt his release seep into you.
For a moment, the two of you just held each other, catching your breaths. Your body felt like it was on fire, a mix of pleasure and the hot water around you, yet you made no move to leave, not wanting this moment to be over yet.
Slowly, his hand let go of your leg, and even though the water helped ease the irritated muscle, you still let out a noise of discomfort. He eased out of you then as well, leaving you feeling empty. Some part of you feared that he would push you away next, but a relieved smile appeared on your face when he tugged you into his arms, a surprisingly gentle kiss placed on top of your damp head.
“You alright?” You don’t think you’d ever heard him so soft, so genuine, and knowing it was aimed at you nearly brought tears to your eyes.
Too many emotions swirled in your chest, and instead of facing them and the discomfort they could bring, you resorted to humor. “I’m surprised you lasted that long, Cooper Howard. You being an old man, after all.”
“Oh, I’ll fuckin’ show ya old, sweetheart.”
#cooper howard#the ghoul#fallout#cooper howard x reader#cooper howard x you#the ghoul x you#the ghoul smut#the ghoul x reader#fallout tv series#fallout prime#fallout show
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Hi!! I loved your aftercare hcs! Could I do a request where the reader is babysitting Estelle for the night since Paul and Sally have gone on a date and Percy comes home and finds reader and Estelle asleep cuddled up together?
girl's night
• the reader babysits Estelle and Percy finds them asleep.
— percy jackson x mortal!reader
warnings: none
a/n: hello! What a nice request, I hope I did it justice. 😭 Also, thank you!
It all started with a:
— Yes, Mrs. Jackson. I'll be there, don't worry.
Because it was your chance to gain Sally Jackson's trust. People who know her know that this opportunity is like gold, something not even a god would dare mess up or decline. But beyond that (since she was practically your mother-in-law), you cared about something else: Estelle.
Your boyfriend’s little sister. She was tiny, still unsteady on her feet, but already full of energy, and you loved the idea of bonding with her from such a young age. So, that's how you ended up agreeing to babysit her for a night while Sally and Paul went out on a date, which you thought was admirable and exemplary, that romance never dies even after starting a family.
You wondered for a moment if life with Percy would be like that too. Despite his life as a demigod and the differences between how you two were raised, you could see his dream of living peacefully, surrounded by his loved ones. You wanted to believe that when he talked about those hopes, you were included, and of course, you were.
You wished he could be with you, but not even Percy knew you were going to babysit Estelle. You saw him too worried about godly issues and his college graduation, even though he was on break. But you knew that life never stopped and you didn’t mind as long as he let you help, even if it was just by listening.
— Darling! — Sally Jackson exclaimed as she opened the apartment door, and you stood there, mouth agape. She looked stunning in a red dress, reminiscent of that movie "Me Before You." Paul peeked through the door while adjusting one of his funny ties.
— Mrs. Jackson — She chuckled, preferring you to call her Sally, but you couldn’t drop the formalities.
They showed you what there was to eat, talked a bit about Estelle’s schedule, but after that, they just looked at you with a confident smile.
— You'll do great, dear — Paul said, kissing Sally's forehead. You couldn’t understand how they could entrust you with their most precious thing without giving strict rules.
— Her bedtime? — The question seemed funny because they just shook their heads.
— Estelle doesn't struggle much with sleep; it’ll be obvious when she’s tired.
And when they left the apartment, you looked behind you. There she was, waving her tiny hand while giggling.
— It's just us, Estelle — You said, sitting next to her as she kept watching something on TV, something more important than your obvious nervousness.
You wondered if she would just watch the screen the whole time, if you only had to give her snacks when she got hungry and make sure she slept at a decent hour. You were pondering this when you felt a tug on your hand. You looked at her, and she was shaking some coloring pages and a worn-out crayon. Where had she gotten that? When?
She said something you wanted to interpret as, "Let's color, and you'll like it, or I'll tell everyone you're no the one for my brother." Well, maybe not, but it felt like that.
You picked her up and took her to the wooden table where the family usually had dinner, making her comfortable with some pillows to adjust her height. But even then, Estelle stood up and started coloring.
You had your own page and couldn’t remember the last time you colored, so your hand moved a bit clumsily, and being so focused, you didn’t see her hand make you go out of the lines. You looked at her, and she grinned widely, but you knew she didn’t do it on purpose; she was just calling you to see her progress, a scribbled bear with at least five different colors. You smiled genuinely and gave her a thumbs-up, which she took as the best critique of her art.
The night went like that, and you never thought such a small child could teach you so much.
When you made cookies, seeing her face reminded you of the joy in just making them, not so much eating them or how they turned out.
When you watched her favorite cartoons, you remembered what it was like to watch something without guilt or the worry that you should be doing something better or more productive.
When she decided she wanted to dance, you remembered that music could be missing, but never the attitude and good moves.
Estelle ended up holding your hand as you regularly straightened the cushions and rug, making sure nothing was too messy. When you smiled, she did too, and she didn’t let go of you all night.
Finishing up washing the dishes, you looked down to see Estelle next to your feet, sitting on the floor playing with some toys while waiting for you. You stopped to watch her for a moment, seeing so much of Sally in her, but also unmistakable traits of Paul, and in her attitude, you saw Percy. Maybe because he was her big brother after all. Estelle brought her little feet together and touched her toes, lost in whatever a child her age might be thinking when you saw her rub her eyes. That was your signal.
— Estelle — You called softly, and she looked at you with sleepy, shiny eyes. You extended your arms, and she got up to do the same, and you picked her up, rocking her, but she seemed to realize what you were trying to do.
— No — She said clearly. You were startled as she hid her face in your neck, clinging to you. You weren’t an expert, but you knew what it meant, so you sat down with her on the couch, placing her properly on your lap.
— It’s okay — You lied, feeling bad about it even though you knew you had to. You put on a new movie to make her think she’d stay awake, but your trick was to make her fall asleep, though you didn’t plan on falling asleep yourself. You hugged her and got comfortable, the best cuddle ever because she kept holding onto you as you slowly closed your eyes.
You never heard the key in the lock, the quiet footsteps on the floor, nor the warm greeting from your boyfriend, who wasn’t expecting to find you cuddled up with Estelle on the couch, sleeping soundly.
— Babe? — He asked softly, checking to see if you were really asleep. He set the keys down and took off his hoodie, dirtied from some... incidents.
His blue eyes scanned the apartment for his mom or Paul but found no sign of them, leading him to realize why you were there. He walked over to you two with quiet steps until he was face to face with an image no one could take from him. Two of his favorite people, seemingly fond of each other, filled his heart with love, and he kissed both your foreheads. Unfortunately, you woke up, and he couldn’t help but pout.
— Sorry — You mumbled, blurry-eyed and disoriented from your nap, realizing it was Percy. He was smiling, kneeling at your level.
— Percy — You murmured, rubbing your eyes and feeling another weight on your chest, going rigid as you remembered. Your boyfriend noticed your fear of waking her. He extended his arms and picked up Estelle so you could get up normally.
— Having fun without me? — He asked with his sister on his chest, rocking to keep her in the land of Hypnos. You stretched, smiling sleepily.
— There was no way to tell you — He nodded, seeing your phone on the carpet, feeling a bit bad for not being able to carry a phone to stay in touch. He often spent days away, and no one knew where he was, not even you.
— I’ll put Estelle to bed — He whispered, and you nodded, struggling to keep your eyes open in his direction, making him chuckle. Before leaving, he leaned in with his sister in his arms to kiss you.
— Be right back.
You nodded and stood to check the living room. You only had to straighten the cushions and put the chairs back in place before Percy hugged you from behind. At his touch, you hummed, feeling a wave of sleepiness brought on by the calm of having him there, finally safe.
— Hey — He greeted, still whispering, and you rested your head on his shoulder, giving him enough space to plant a warm kiss on your neck. With no immediate response from you, he held you tighter and kissed your cheek, wanting to support you so you didn’t have to put in so much effort.
— I’m okay — You said, realizing what he was trying to do, but he quickly lifted you bridal style, making his way back to the couch.
— Shh, I’ll take care of you. — He soothed while sitting with you, and you wrapped your arms around him, sharing your sleepiness. You rested your head on his chest, and he pulled the blanket from the corner to cover you both.
You sighed calmly, almost falling asleep when you sniffed your boyfriend's shirt once, twice, three times. Groggy, you kissed his cheek and whispered in his ear
— You smell like monster, Percy Jackson — He smiled, and you mirrored it.
— Things got tough — He said slowly, resting his cheek on your head, almost stumbling over words.
— Hmm — You hummed starting to fall asleep, and you both did it.
#maría's shared dreams☆｡ﾟ✧#percy jackson#percy jackson fic#percy jackson fluff#percy jackson and the olympians#percy pjo#pjo hoo toa#heroes of olympus#pjo#percy jackson x y/n#percy jackson x you#percy jackson x reader#pjo x you#riordanverse#percy jackson x mortal!reader#percy jackson blurb#percy jackson oneshot#percy jackson and the heroes of olympus#percy jackon and the olympians#percy jackson fanfiction#hoo x reader#hoo x you#pjo x reader#pjo x y/n
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Busted
A/N: it’s a little short, I’m sorry. My requests are open, I’m going to start writing for all Formula (Prema too).
Arthur Leclerc x Norris!reader
Warnings: upset Lando, making out, little swearing, indicated to smut (none tho)
Based off this comment ⬇️
@barcelonaloverf1life thank you!! 🫶🏻
You had followed Lando around your whole life, he was your big brother. You love him to pieces. Some might say you were more excited that him when he was announced as an official Formula 1 driver. You came with him to every race, getting to know a lot of the drivers very well. Becoming close friends with a Spaniard, which led to a Monegasque, which led to a certain younger brother.
That was three years ago. Now, you and Arthur had been secretly dating for over a year. You expertly hid your relationship from your brothers, especially Lando. You know Charles wouldn’t have too much of a problem with his brother dating you. You also know that Lando was explode if he knew you were dating the impulsive idiot from Oscar’s Prema days.
It was time, once again, for the Monaco gp. One of the very few times a year you could publicly be seen with your boyfriend for a good reason. After making sure Lando was busy getting ready for the race, you slipped over to the Ferrari garage. Arthur was leaning against a wall, talking to his brother and an engineer when he spotted you. He clapped his brother on the shoulder and took off towards you.
It had been way too long (a couple days) since you had last seen each other and all you wanted to do was kiss him. Which you couldn’t, because you were in public. “I have an idea” you said as you turned to him. You snuck him through the McLaren garage and into your brothers driver room. You knew he wouldn’t be coming back until much later so you knew you had time.
You closed the door and pushed Arthur into it. You gripped his broad shoulder with one hand and tangled the other in his hair, bringing him down to your lips. You both began feverishly making out, tongues fighting. When Arthur won, he pushed you into the wall next to the door. His hands slipped under your shirt to play with your tits through your bra, his knee moved in between your legs and applied pressure to your clit. You started grinding on the knee, letting out little whimpers until the door to the drivers room opened. “WHAT THE FUCK”
Lando grabbed Arthur’s shirt and yanked him backwards as Oscar rushed in “what happened?” “Your prema mate was eating my sisters face off” Lando said as he kept prattling on “this is ridiculous. And in my room for fucks sake! Why now y/n? Why the sudden interest?” Lando asked. Arthur moved to answer, immediately being glared at my Lando. If looks could kill, Arthur would already be six feet under.
Lando looked at you, waiting for your answer. “Actually, Lando, Arthur and I have been dating for over a year. We didn’t want to tell you because we knew how you would react” Lando’s jaw hit the floor. “I’m getting Charles” he grumbled. Charles walked in five minutes later, we were both sitting together on the floor. “Finally got busted?” He laughed.
Lando looked at him, dumbfounded. “You knew?!!” He screeched. “I had my suspicions, until I walked in on them making it. They didn’t even know I was there” Charles admitted “come with me” he said afterwards. Charles took Lando outside and had a long talk with him. When they came back, Lando announced “I have a deal to make little Leclerc. Make my sister happy and I won’t murder you. Break or hurt her in anyway and you will never think about racing again”
Arthur nodded, agreeing with Lando. After everyone left the room, you turned to Arthur and said “I can’t believe we finally got busted. I thought it would have happened way sooner!” That made Arthur laugh.
#arthur leclerc#arthur leclerc x reader fluff#arthur leclerc x y/n#arthur leclerc fluff#arthur leclerc x reader#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fic#formula 1#formula one#formula 2#formula racing#prema racing#lando norris#oscar piastri#charles leclerc#carlos sainz#ferrari#mclaren
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“Dad are you really this afraid of me?!”
There were a LOT of lines in ATSV that stuck out to me, but this specific one hit me right in the feels.
First of all the way Gwen says it, her tone, the pain and emotion in her voice, her expression, EVERYTHING leading up to this one simple question is heartbreaking. Especially when you consider why she’s even asking this in the first place.
I want to point out that right after Gwen took her mask off, the background colors change from dark red to much less threatening colors, much softer if I might add. This basically signifies George’s POV.
Gwen had just revealed her identity as Spider-Woman to her dad, who’s now in complete shock. He believes Spider-Woman is a murderer and the one responsible for Peter’s death, so now that his own daughter comes out and tells him that she is in fact Spider-Woman, he jumps to the conclusion that “Spider-Woman is a murderer who killed Peter so that must mean that’s all true about my daughter.” instead of “Ah, my daughter is sweet so there’s no way those things about Spider-Woman are true!”. Now when I first watched this scene, I was like “Huh?”, because Gwen could’ve said ANYTHING else to her dad. She could’ve been like “Why are you doing this?!”, or she could’ve gotten angry at him. Gwen is WAY stronger than George, if he decided to shoot her, she would have been able to easily dodge that bullet. She could seriously hurt George if she wanted to and she knows it, but when George started reading Gwen her Miranda Rights, Gwen wasn’t angry, she was heartbroken, and you can see the change in her expression.
At first, she looks upset, fearful, and worried. Then, she looks hopeful. Hopeful that her dad will hear what she has to say, hopeful that her dad will understand her and trust her when she tells him that she isn’t a murderer, but he doesn’t. THATS when Gwen’s expression shifts from hopefulness to disbelief and heartbreak. “You’re in this to help people right? Well so am I”, Gwen was trying to convince her dad that she was on his side, that she didn’t kill Peter, that she isn’t what he thinks she is, but George doesn’t listen. Gwen thought that by telling her dad “You’re all I have left”, that that’d make him listen, but it didn’t.
You can hear the utter shock and disbelief in Gwen’s voice when her dad actually starts reading her rights, and you can hear how scared and distraught George is too, but there’s a hint of remorse in his voice. He sounds like he doesn’t want to do this. He sounds like he’s in pain, and well- he is. He’s arresting his own daughter.
Just put yourself in Gwen’s position for a second. She just revealed her biggest secret to her dad, and the reason she hid it from him for so long was because she was terrified of the thought that he would attempt to arrest her, and he DOES. He chooses to be a ‘good’ cop over being a dad. Imagine your own father, your own flesh and blood, and the person who gave you life, is absolutely terrified of you to the point where he almost aims a gun at you out of pure fear. But George doesn’t see his own child, he sees a monster. The same monster that murdered his daughter’s best friend. He quite literally can’t see his daughter in front of him, he just sees Spider-Woman.
“How long have you been lying to me?” Is the only question George asks Gwen throughout this entire scene. He asked this as a father, not as a cop. He was absolutely distraught and the only thoughts going through his mind were “No, this can’t be true…” and “How could my girl, my sweet girl…” (Actual line from the script btw). Another line that sort of stood out to me was “Can you just not be a cop for a second and be my dad here?”, Gwen didn’t feel like she was speaking to her dad, she felt like she was facing down a cop. George has been treating Gwen like a criminal this whole interaction. “Do you really think I’m a murderer?” Gwen asked this because could not BELIEVE that her dad actually thought that of her. The whole reason Gwen removed her mask in the first place was out of fear that her dad would actually shoot her, he already fired a warning shot, so why wouldn’t he just go ahead and pull the trigger?
Something I noticed earlier is how Gwen’s spider senses went off when her dad approached her. Spider senses ONLY go off when there’s a threat nearby, so this pretty much means Gwen saw her dad as a threat to her life :(
Also taking note of the fact that Gwen is his daughter, 16 years old- and like 5’4, but George is STILL powerless against her. His only option is to get her to surrender. Gwen and George kinda switched places throughout this scene. At first, Gwen is terrified of George, and then by the end it’s the other way around.
Gwen tries her hardest to plead with George, she kept her arms up in a defenseless position the whole time to show her dad that she won’t hurt him, but he can’t even look at her. This is something I took note of when watching ATSV; While George is reading Gwen her Miranda Rights, he can’t bring himself to look at her. He just stares at the ground, with a disappointed expression on his face. A face of pain. There’s a clear difference when George first says “You have the right to remain silent”, and the second time he says it. It’s like he doesn’t want to do it.
Now, I do hate George and I think he did a LOT wrong in this movie, but just look at his face for a second. Does that look like the the face of a man who is happy with what he’s doing? No. That’s a face of regret and guilt. He isn’t doing this because he wants to, he’s doing this because he’s afraid. Afraid of what exactly? Well, that brings us to my next point.
So obviously Gwen is in shock right now, her own father is trying to arrest her because he believes she murdered her childhood friend. Not only is Gwen shocked but she’s also confused. She’s probably thinking “Why is he doing this?”, and she came to the conclusion that her dad was doing this out of fear. Fear of HER.
This is a major reason as to why Gwen didn’t reveal her identity to her dad for so long. She knew he wouldn’t accept her, she knew he’d be scared of her, and she was right. George isn’t doing this just because he wants to be a good cop, he’s standing in front of the ‘dangerous menace’ who killed Peter, and that dangerous menace is Gwen, his daughter. George’s immediate reaction is to arrest Gwen because like I said earlier- He can only see Spider-Woman.
Now onto what this whole analysis is about, the line Gwen utters next… Along with “You’re the best thing I’ve ever done”, and “I can’t lose one more friend”, this line BROKE me. Gwen assumed that George was doing this out of fear, which is the main reason she asked him this. She was so frustrated by the thought of her own father doing something like this to her. She hated being misunderstood to the point of being seen as a monster by the one person she considers a role model to follow, the ONE person she has left. You can hear the pain in Gwen’s voice as well as her dad’s.
You can actually hear a slight change in George’s tone after Gwen says that line. Because SHE’S RIGHT. He IS afraid of her. That’s the whole reason as to why he’s doing this. He doesn’t even respond to her, his voice slightly breaks and you can definitely tell this is really hard for him. Hearing his own daughter straight up ask him if he’s really afraid of her probably felt like a punch in the gut, that’s a question neither of them thought they’d ever have to face.
George fears Gwen because she allegedly ‘killed’ Peter, but it’s also because of her abilities. George has seen what Spider-Woman is capable of. He’s seen what she can do. That’s the reason he backed away and raised his gun at Gwen when she took a step closer to him and yelled “DAD STOP!”, he was scared of her.
Gwen was heartbroken. She was trying her HARDEST to plead with her dad just for him to try and arrest her, aim a gun at her, and yell “DONT COME ANY CLOSER!” at her when she tried to approach him. Honestly I’m surprised Gwen didn’t snap after this, let alone forgive George at all. Imagine living with the mentality that your own dad didn’t hesitate to point a gun at you while yelling at you to not come any closer, poor Gwen.
I’ve always wondered what would’ve happened if Miguel and Jess hadn’t intervened. George actually had the intention of shooting Gwen, so if Miguel didn’t trap him in that box thing, George might’ve actually gone through with it, and that’s sickening to think about. The fact that he was even WILLING to aim a gun at Gwen is enough to fuck her up.
I don’t blame Gwen for wanting to join the Spider Society after this. I mean come on, her dad is terrified of her and thinks she’s a murderer, and she believes if she joins the Spider Society, she’ll finally find people who accept and understand her. No wonder she left Earth 65.
This entire scene was so heartbreaking dude I wanna cry time I watch it ☹️ The watercolors in the background as well as the voice acting from both Gwen and her dad were amazing and SO emotional, along with their expressions and the soundtrack- Ahh I could talk about this movie forever 😭 But anyways, thanks for reading my little analysis and FUCK GEORGE STACY ALL MY HOMIES HATE GEORGE STACY!!! 🔥🔥🔥🔥🗣️🗣️🗣️💥💥💥💥💥🙅🏼♀️🙅🏼♀️🙅🏼♀️
#george stacy keep your fucking doors locked.#KYS GEORGE STACY#LEAVE GWENNY ALONE#atsv#across the spiderverse#spiderman#gwen stacy#spiderverse#ghost spider#spider gwen
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