#I do wonder what the solution could be
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ivan-fyodorovich-k · 3 months ago
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well lots to think about there
#I think...#it's good to come right out and say that turning back the clock is not the solution#i think that's accurate#the idea that you can have women kind of emerge as serious players in the last couple generations and then just snatch it away#not only is it cruel it's patently ridiculous#that said some of the concluding bits#I don't know#I wonder#is there an appetite for that kind of irenic posture?#it seems hard for one to adopt that yes-also posture you can be interested in women's liberation and also acknowledge this other problem et#he says something about how when you look at the 'traditional' way of thinking about gender issues and the traditional direction#you can't be surprised if all you have to offer men is to tell them how horrible they are or just to sign them up as allies#they just look elsewhere#i've felt that way about it for a long time#i've spent my whole life hearing about what utter garbage men are from every corner#not in the least from women telling me all the things Men have done to them#there's just no possible coherent response i can imagine#i've been increasingly worried as my sons get older that all i really have to offer them is an admonition not to be a rapist#and perhaps more broadly to get out of the way of women#this is the feeling among all the academics i know#put your tail between your legs submit smile no matter what they say about you and they do say some hurtful things and laugh#or else#again#this non-starter solution to just become some wild misogynist provocateur#I guess the stated goal of this guy's work isn't so much to establish solutions as it is facts#I do wonder what the solution could be#i sympathize with the desire to check out#oh I also cannot imagine any kind of positivity about fatherhood that would land or ring true or anything like that#however essential they find the presence of fathers to be#but that's another discussion
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iiusia · 2 months ago
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everyday i restrain myself
#julia.txt#okay im not going to do a full fledged post abt this but i have got 2 het this out#nowhere in the Bible does it say that there shpuld be One Guy who teaches. or a select few appoimted guys. whatever#a pastor is in his essence no different from a priest#every single believer (who is called to teaching) has the potential of saying something edifying#every single believer has the potential to pray a good prayer#to suggest a good song#all with the caveat of being led by the Holy Spirit. ofc#a Fully Biblical church is one where every brother has the opportunity to speak to pray to suggest a hymn if the Spirit leads him to do so#like. will it be perfect. no we are human we are failiable there is not a single believer on earth that listens to fhe Spirit 100% of the#time#but the solution is not to put in place man-made order#the solution is to keep working on ourselves as an assembly#like#we will always fall short of the perfectness of God#does that mean we stop trying?#no!! we try HARDER. we give ourselves fully to Him we entrust ourselves in His hands and work on it!!!!#shakes you. there is freedom in the Holy Spirit.#have you been in a meeting where nothing is pre planned not who prays not the songs sung not the sermon#and Yet. everything lines up together#the songs suggested all follow the same theme#the prayers all follow the same theme#and then a brother gets up and says the Spirit put on my heart to say this AND IT FOLLOWS THE SAME THEME#do you Understand. its beautiful#man made order could NEVER compare to this#disclaimer a church having a pastor doesnt mean that its not biblically sound there are WONDERFUL godly pastors out there it is simply#What Is Normal right now#but. gestures wildly#you see#if anyone sees this and wants elaboration i would be happy 2 :0
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pallases · 8 months ago
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my prof giving us an exam on content he can’t even do himself <3
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the-13th-rose · 2 years ago
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Yeah I was gonna reblog that post about how kids are a huge commitment and it shouldn't be seen as the default to make that decision because you can't just change your mind later
Then I looked and the blog was like "actually oppressed men are shit too and anyone who argues against gender essentialism is a patriarchy-supporting coward" and I ran so fast
#bro i am so tired of not feeling able to trust feminist blogs!#like theoretically it should be good between us right? because i'm a girl and i agree that gender discrimination is bs#but nah because I'm always running into the ones who think trans people are tools of the patriarchy???#or if not that then they’re at least going off with the gender essentialism bs#like you do shit like this and then wonder why you can't get other women to agree with you. gee. i fucking wonder why#couldn't possibly be the way you're acting. nah it's the other women who are wrong. (sarcasm)#maybe if you stopped punching down all the time and actually went after the people who *do* have power over you#there could be more agreement and solidarity.#they register to me like those aggressive gatekeepers who keep insisting only they can decide what identities are 'real'#and if you disagree with them then it's always *you* who's hurting the community according to them.#saying horrible shit and then when they're called out on it it's 'why can't we just support each other uncritically always 😭'#'men support men all the time! even when they do awful things!' and the solution you claim is women doing the same?#i should support white feminists when they contribute to racist stereotypes or oppression?#i should support cis feminists when they parrot conservative anti-trans rhetoric VERBATIM?#i should support those who hate bisexual women? who think we deserve abuse for liking men?#i don't fucking think so. just because men can be uncritical of their shitty pals doesn't mean i should.
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mrfoox · 2 years ago
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I'm going to struggle to sleep and get up tomorrow
Curse it all
#miranda talking shit#At one hand i liked the conversation i had with fabian and i think i got some answers to questions ive been wondering about but im also lik#Unpacking all this.... So much to unpacking and to be put in a folder in my head where does it all go... Still hate how#He hit me with the biggest ... Maybe in the universe and i can't deal with it. No I'd be relieved and accept an no fullstop but he had to#Add in the.... Idk actually lol i dont have a reference and i would like to know how it is crossing boundaries in our relationship#Whag the fuck man.... You really gave me the strongest 'i think youre into me and it worries me' and then nullify it with an 'idk how i#Feel sometimes id like to explore more' how am i supposed to... Handle that information... I had been going around telling myself#What he said to me 2019 is the way he still feels and me thinking he might think more is just me being paranoid but then yeah#What a clusterfuck. I mean to me it wont change anything in the broader picture no matter what i care for him ya know? But now thats... An#Whole other thing like. Should i try to act differently? Be more careful? Or would that be unfair bc then id do what he've been doing to me#I will quote him again 'miranda i think if both of us got an gf/bf at the same time this would solve itself' i joked and said he could find#Me one and I'll find one for him. But yeah i think that would ... Be a solution in an ideal world. Idk how to do anything man#At one hand i think he's overestimating how much he's on my mind but also its true. I spend a lot of my social time with him so obviously#I think about him? But i also have a reference on how i am... With people i have crushes on and who im in love with and how o think of thoe#Its just so scary to think about how i am his reference ... To... Well basically a ton of things... Im not a good reference unless you want#An abnormal reference. I guess im anxious I'll somehow ... Ruin him or something. This was a big conformation that i am his reference to#Women and close relationships with women and i am not made for that... Most feminine tjing about me is being sappy and giving compliments#And encouragement. Otherwise im basically like ... A dude. Guess it also scares me that he knows me. I know i know him but the fact its#Mutual is aw man... Being known is still a struggle. He wasmt completely wrong is his logic bc he knows me i think too much about people#And things. I understand im so anxious bc i care about him and im worried about losing him or pushinh him away but shit#Hes sleeping rn and is at peace with this probably. He doesn't dwell on it. He even said hes been thinking about this... Bc he began to#Think about what i could be thinking? So its not even his own thoughts but thoughts about whaf i could be thinking? ?? Whack and im likebro#Flattering that you go to that length but also... Literally what??? Cant tell if hes somehow projecting or if this is genuinely how he was#Thinking but damn. Boy does have some confidence at least? He's such an fool. I love him but holy shit he blows me away sometimes
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beeseverywhen · 4 months ago
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i mean 10% of ppl are hypermobile. Hypermobility is within normal human variation.
Problems related to hypermobility? Not so much.
Tbh i think we should stop focusing on what is and isn't normal and look more at quality of life. Most people do not live their lives in pain and exhaustion unless they do things to cause that pain and exhaustion (marathon running, hurts and is tiring. going to the supermarket should not be). If you've decided to just get on and accept that you're always in pain...literally nobody is asking you to do that.
Pain and exhaustion impact on your quality of life. Sometimes humans get problems that can't be cured. But most of the time? If you're in pain or exhausted there likely is a solution. If you've decided not to seek that, maybe ask yourself why? Nobody is asking you to torture yourself. Nobody wants you to be living a half life cause of pain and exhaustion. You just don't have to do that.
You don't win a prize at the end of life for having made things more difficult for yourself.
This isn't aimed at any one person, more of a general observation from my comments/inbox over the last few years, but the number of people who say things like "but that's normal" when I describe hypermobility compared to the number of times healthcare providers look at me like I'm a glitch in the matrix is a Ven diagram made up of a single circle at this point.
Like I feel like some people just aren't envisioning the things I'm describing properly and are imagining a normal range of motion, but I also think some of you might want to consider getting evaulated.
Especially when you send me messages like, "There's nothing wrong with me except for my debilitating joint pain, crippling exhaustion, and the fact that blood shoots out of my eyes once a month, but isn't it normal to be able to do X?"
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wispered-dream · 5 months ago
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:T
'I was raised/abused by people who used their illness as an excuse to be horrific towards others and said I wasnt ALLOWED to question it (because then I'd be Obstinate, and go to hell)'
and 'then I was abused by someone who used their illness as an excuse to be horrific towards others and said I wasn't ALLOWED to question it (because then I'd be a Bigot, and everyone will hate me when I tell them)'
Sure does explain so much about me.
Turns out:
- Didn't go to Hell for being Obstinate
- Extended family laughed and high fived me for joining the 'canceled by XYZ' club
So while I am perhaps oversensitized to "abusing the good will/sympathy of others"
I see that those who do this are in the real hell.
And I've seen how it comes crashing down so so SO slowly.
Abusing the sympathy of others results in people who are wary of extending that sympathy ever again. It's a net crueler world, no matter how much you say "NO NO ONE WOULD EVER DO THAT!"
They do, people take advantage of good will/sympathy. Especially when you can exploit that sympathy for control.
People do it without realizing it too, and enabling that only makes it worse. Protecting the 'abuser'/abuser in the name of "we gotta say it never happens to immanetize the eschaton!" is its own Cruelty.
You're gonna damn each other if you put yourself in a place where people are too fearful to tell you you're being unfair. Claiming '-ism' like a YuGiOh trap card [especially to people who are victimized by that -ism, RIP] is a fantastic way to do that.
People learn to ignore the ableism accusations or treat it like a joke. And it's not JUST bigotry, as neat of a solution as it sounds. Someone comes out with a Caard of all their mental illnesses and I'm asking myself 'why' not because GRRR HATE MENTALLY ILL, but because there is still a motivation there.
'If you ask why someone would do that you're a bigot!' okay so are they trying to establish that they want special treatment or needs. I am excessively empathetic to that.
But it's not 'I forget about messages sometimes [And if you werent mentally ill it'd OBVIOUSLY be because you just dont care?*] or might infodump [on nerd websites? How dare you!*]', it's "Here's the disorder I say I have according to the description I give of it, if it's contrary to any knowledge, experience, or literature on the subject it's because you're a bigot."
Personally I just try to treat everyone assuming they COULD be ill, I find everyone could use kindness. I think that's a better model, but the neurodivergent are uniquely suffering or whatever.
"It's not that I want special treatment, I just want to be the same as everyone else gets to be" You are imagining an ideal that does not exist. Even the fabled Neurotypicals are deserving of things like Patience.
See to me it looks like you're only willing to offer those kind of things to people who will tell you their psychiatric histories. My experience with people who have done the caard thing has so regularly been such! Whereas my experience with people who have severe illness [a majority of my friends] are much more *example* or *event* focused.
#theres a third part where someone attempted to do that#and it was harmful to the friend group and only got worse and worse over time as everyone was scared of#one person inconsistently attacking others for percieved slights#I was far enough from the sun to avoid consequences of the implosion and y'know#I really don't think theres a solution to this other than just ignoring the 'youre being ableist by saying I cant steal!!'#Got like 30 witnesses that can affirm that it was bullshit. I could produce a thick dossier proving the parties here are what I say#Got a few 10s of Thousands of hours spent considering 'was I actually in the wrong' and man#All evidence and affirmation and therapy and meditations point to 'why didnt I stop it sooner'#makes me question my skepticism wondering why this keeps happening to me#possible event 4 comes and nah. not again. what a shame. but I am not giving a chance beyond evidence again man#Part of me wants to ignore red flags but I think that part of me might just be blind#and how have I sacrificed worthwhile friendships because I didnt want to abandon someone?#how many times did I recognize that my description inspired fear/anxiety in my friends and take that as affirmation#without extending that affirmation to 'you need to do something!!'#how many times do I scream where few can hear instead of disengaging?#how many times have i let the 'I dont want to be a bad or cruel person'#override everything telling me to run or fight?#be a social fawn you wont hate yourself for it! you can complain on tumblr or to your closest friends instead!#yet the complaining never calms the feeling I am betraying myself!#either betraying the part of me who fears the hell my 'friends' are creating for themselves#or betraying the part of me who has a fucking right to fight and be obstinate#What solution exists where I dont feel like Im betraying myself in some way?
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pipermca · 2 months ago
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New AO3 Tag Wrangling Policy and the Transformers Fandom
Edit in the event people come back to the original post: Please do not email AO3 about this issue. See their response about this issue!
(This is a long one, folks, but I think it's important.)
A new tag-wrangling policy on AO3 has the potential to create some massive confusion and chaos in the Transformers fanfic community, with regards to fandom tags. There is a Reddit post about it here with a focus on anime fandoms, but I want to give some concrete examples for the Transformers fandom on why we DO NOT WANT this, and why I think it's a horrible idea.
The Problem
Basically, AO3 is looking to get rid of the "All Media Types" fandom tag across the board, either by dismantling them or just not maintaining them. The Transformers - All Media Types tag has been an all-purpose tag that you could select when your story doesn't fall into any one specific continuity. Additionally, all most (see below) TF continuities on AO3 are considered a subtag of the Transformers - All Media Types tag. For example, if you look at the link above for all works in the All Media Types tag, you will see fics that are also tagged ONLY with Transformers: Animated, because it falls under the All Media Types tag.
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One exception: With the upcoming Transformers: One movie coming out imminently, there will likely be a big influx of stories tagged with Transformers: One. In fact, there are several already. However, it hasn't been linked to the larger Transformers - All Media Types tag yet. I wasn't worrying about it though, because I know these things can take time.
With information about this new tagging policy, however, I'm now wondering whether it'll EVER get linked to the All Media Types tag. If that happens, and when more continuities are developed in the coming years (since you know Hasbro loves creating new universes) this has the potential to cause massive confusion when looking for stories to read.
Searching for Stories with the New Tagging System
So let's say the All Media Types fandom tag isn't accurate anymore, because it no longer includes ALL of the continuities (such as TF:One). You will need to include ALL the Transformers continuities when browsing for TF fics.
How many tags is that? Well, here are all of the tags currently listed under the Transformers - All Media Types tag:
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Note that this doesn't include Transformers: One since it hasn't been categorized yet.
You will potentially have to have 40 or more different fandom tags in your search, just in case the author tagged their story with something you weren't expecting.
This massively decreases the findability of a story.
Tagging with the New System
The email response from the Tag Wrangling group (see the linked Reddit post above) seems to be a bit flip in the response to the user's concern. "...encourages creators to tag with the media they intend."
While I appreciate what they are attempting to do, this policy change feels like a solution in search of a problem, especially in larger fandoms with multiple continuities, versions, and media types that are all cross-pollinated in both canon and fanon. While I'm focusing on Transformers fandom, imagine a creator in the DC comic universe writing a story that incorporates bits and pieces from a dozen different reboots.
For example, let's say that I am writing a fic about Ratchet. I am using the setting of the original G1 episodes, but I also am using the characterization of him as a bit of an old man grump. That characterization originated in the Animated continuity, but I want to incorporate bits of pieces of his other characterizations as well (old friend of Optimus from TFP, Ratchet ran a faction-free clinic like he did in the War for Cybertron series, he's got a Decepticon boyfriend like in IDW1 - or maybe even Cyberverse, etc.)
With this new tagging structure, I might potentially have to tag the story with ALL of those continuities. So instead of just slapping down the "All Media Types" tag (and maybe one other fandom tag that matches the characters as best I can), I'll have to analyze my story and try to figure out how best to tag for the characters I used.
And what if you're doing a completely AU version of the story? For example, a humanformers story, or merformers? Using the All Media Types tag along with a Alternate Universe - Human or Alternate Universe - Mermaid tag worked perfectly, since you weren't writing the story to fit into one specific continuity. But now, that might not be an option.
What To Do??
The first thing I would suggest is to contact AO3 (using the Feedback and Support page) and let them know (nicely) that you think this is a horrible idea. Give them some examples on how you use the All Media Types tag to find stories to read, or to help you tag a story. People outside of the Transformers fandom don't always appreciate how absolutely tangled the continuities can be with each other, and providing examples might help them see why this would be a really messy change.
Readers: Be aware that when you are looking in the All Media Types tag, it will no longer show newer continuities. And if AO3 starts dismantling that tag like they suggested they are doing, be aware that some stories won't show up in that tag like they used to. You can also create and then bookmark a custom search page that includes all 40+ continuities. REALLY annoying, but it's a workaround.
Writers: Until they start dismantling the All Media Types tag, ALWAYS ALWAYS tag your stories using Transformers - All Media Types... Especially for newer continuities. This will be especially important if you are writing a Transformers: One story. Right now, anyone who is only browsing the All Media Types tag will not see a story tagged only with Transformers: One. Make sure you're aware of how tags work and how they can affect the visibility and findability of your story.
Epilogue
Ugh. That's a lot of words for a long-weekend Saturday. And maybe I'm overreacting a tiny bit. But my work involves information architecture, and this change just absolutely baffles me. It's almost as though they want to make it harder to find stories. Considering that AO3 won a Hugo partially because of its fantastic tagging system, this change seems like AO3 is doing its best to shoot itself in the foot.
When you have a square hole, a round hole, and a rectangular hole… Yeah, you DO want each peg to go in the "right" hole. But if all of the pegs fit in the square hole, who cares? You got the job done.
I love you @ao3org, but please reconsider this change... Especially for IPs that are as old and are as varied as Transformers.
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thehmn · 3 months ago
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Here’s some inspiration for anyone who wants to write a green utopia or something that symbolize the rot under the surface.
I visited Stige Island today. It’s not really an island because it is connected to the mainland by a small road but the name stuck.
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It is an artificially constructed island that was turned into a dump which made it grow bigger and bigger as more trash was piled on top.
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Eventually the dump was closed down by covering it in a thick layer of dirt which is why the island is full of hills and bumps. A web of paths were created and the landscape was dotted with playgrounds and picnic tables and today it’s an incredibly popular place for the locals to relax.
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Unfortunately most photos online show the island in its early sorta barren state because today it has become a haven for all sorts of plant and animal life skittering around in the dense bushes. It’s a wonderful place to go birdwatching, fishing or pick berries.
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But the trash is still down there creating methane gas. What did the city do about that? Harvest it for energy of course! So when you walk around the island you’ll see pipes and what appears to be manholes that are part of this sophisticated system.
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You can look at it in two ways. To me it’s a wonderful solution to turn this former dump into a beautiful green area for wildlife and people to use while also using it for energy, but the idea that something fire related could happen and blow the entire thing up and unearth the dirt of the past is pretty tempting.
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piplupod · 1 year ago
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do the "rbs > likes" and "reblogs are appreciated" and "reblog it if you like it!!" footers ever help on art?? bc i feel like it more just annoys ppl than anything else fjfkdl and then u would end up getting less engagement than u would've normally ??
#i kind of avoid rbing that art tbh and that might make me a ''bad person'' but i don't like feeling like op is watching me like a hawk#if i like an art piece i will often queue it so that it has a chance of getting a second wave of being rbed around#and theres artists out there who say shit like ''if you like this and DON'T rb it then I'm blocking you'' so i end up not interacting w it#at all. when i would've normally just liked the piece and then queued it fhdkdl. so. idk.#it just feels very hostile and pushy? idk i understand how frustrating it can be for sure#my art doesn't ever get rbed except by like two friends and sometimes if i make it appealing to a wide enough audience then i get 2 more rbs#so i Understand. but i dont think being pushy and Telling ppl to rb ur art is the way to go about it... idk!!#to each their own ofc but heres my thoughts ig fjdkdl i just Wonder about it sometimes when i see it#I think this may also be the autism for me bc i often have a rly hard time doing things when someone Tells me to do it#pathological demand avoidance or whatever. idk if i can rly say i Have that but i experience smth similar at least#and maybe thats on me to work thru. but fhdkdl idk i just. ough. i wish this wasnt a thing at all i wish everyone could get what they wanted#i dislike this entire debate tbh djfkdl bc i see both sides and idk what the solution is or if there even is one#it might just be one of those things where it just Exists and theres no fix for it and we all just gotta cope with it#pippen needs 2nd breakfast
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oepionie · 5 months ago
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— "HE'S THE OTHER MAN!" . the corpse groom
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SYNOPSIS: A ghost groom has claimed MC as his unwilling bride. Unfortunately for him, she's already got a lover
⊹ [ c.w ] — violence, possessive behavior, malleus blows a fucking green laser down ramshackle, mentions of blood, yuu is poor but we alrdy knew that, papa crewel crumbs
⊹ [ w.c ] — 1.6k opening post with malleus! if this gets enough attention, I might do more :P
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"You what?" Crewel seethed, eyes wide as an unsettling smile stretched across the red of his cheeks.
"Repeat that."
"I…I accidentally released that ghost from the spellbook," Grim sobbed, his glossy eyes reflecting both fear and guilt as he looked up at the imposing figure of the professor. "And he's taken my henchhuman as his bride!"
Oh, Great Sevens. Not again.
Crewel groaned, his hands reaching up to frantically rub at his burning eyes. The flickering candlelight cast erratic shadows across his face.
"Please, do tell. How in Wonderland did someone with your lackluster skills manage to—" The professor was abruptly cut off by a loud, almost obnoxious cry that echoed from the doorway. Turning sharply, Crewel saw Crowley hunched against the entrance frame, hysterically sobbing into his palms. Fat tears dripped beneath his ornate mask, glistening in the low light. "They grow up so fast! My dear child is already getting married!"
Crewel's eye twitched as he took in the scene: Grim shaking like a leaf, and Crowley, dramatically weeping, pathetically looking to him for a solution.
"Fools," Crewel snarled, striding out of the room as he fished his phone from his coat pocket. "If you two won't be of use, then I'll have to enlist the help of those mutts instead."
The day had started like any other in Ramshackle, but you certainly didn't expect it to end with a wedding. Surrounded by the ghostly residents of the dorm, you stood dressed in all white, a bouquet clutched in your hand. Curling in yourself, you sighed and rested your head in your hands, avoiding everyone's gazes which felt like icy needles on your skin.
Ramshackle's old lounge, with its worn-out floorboards and faded wallpaper, was the chosen venue for your ceremony. Whispers rustled through the gathering, carried on a faint breeze that stirred the dust motes in the dim light. Somewhere in the background, the somber notes of an organ piano echoed. You didn't even know you had a piano…
"Dear?"
Jumping with a shriek, you whipped your head around. A ghostly visage, bathed in a deathly pale blue glow, hovered inches from your face, an unnaturally wide grin stretched across their blue lips. Bony fingers gently traced up your cheeks, sending tingles down your spine.
With sunken eyes and high, sharp cheekbones, Elizan—a "visiting" friend of one of Ramshackle's ghosts—was truly a sight to behold. His complexion had a pallor that matched the moonlight filtering through the decrepit windows of the form. Wisps of long, flowing indigo hair framed his face, swept back as if caught in a breeze that only he could feel.
"You look wonderful," he cooed, pressing a featherlight kiss to your forehead, leaving your cheeks burning.
"Ah. Thank you," you stammered, averting your gaze and gently pulling away. You could hardly focus on the words being spoken to you, your mind spinning with the surrealness of it all.
"You look... Good as well," you forced out with a cough, tugging at your hair nervously. "But... Listen... I—"
Before you could finish, the door to the entrance slammed open, nearly breaking off the hinges with a sound that could wake the dead, sending cracks spider-webbing through the already dilapidated walls.
On the inside, you screamed louder than the hinges.
You had painstakingly patched up the door after Grim's recent screw-up—a feat that had tested your patience and carpentry skills to their limit. Unless you wanted to survive on a diet of stale canned food and cafeteria leftovers for another year, you couldn't afford any more repairs.
While you were busy mourning the loss of having decent meals, heaving and leaning against the door for support, your friends called out your name in a panic, their bleary and furious gazes zeroing in on your figure. Clad in white, you stood there, the perfect picture of a pretty blushing bride.
The uninvited guests didn't go unnoticed by your "groom," and in seconds, you were pulled into a suffocating grip. Elizan's usually serene demeanor shattered like fragile glass. His deathly pale features contorted into a snarl, veins pulsing ominously beneath translucent skin. His typically gentle eyes blazed with an unsettling fire, icy whites now narrowed and piercing.
"Mutt!" Crewel seethed, his foot slamming into the floor and shattering the newly installed tiles. Your soul nearly left your body as you screamed inside again. There go a thousand thaumarks…
"What in the Sevens is this!?" Crewel shrieked, running a gloved hand through his tousled hair. With sharp movements, he pointed a finger at Elizan. "I'll have you know I can have you arrested for trespassing, unlawful detention, and violating the sanctity of this academy!"
"How... How dare you? Barging into this sacred ceremony—Who even are you?!" Elizan snapped back, his arms coiling tightly around your torso. The crowd erupted in a haze of shouts and muddled answers. Unable to understand anything, Elizan's intense gaze shifted and bore into yours, demanding answers. You gulped nervously, suddenly feeling small and vulnerable in his grasp.
"Who is he?! Who are they?!" he barked like a dog, flashing his sharp fangs at you.
"Uh… That's my professor—uh, Crewel," you stammered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. "And those are… They're my… friends?" Your gaze flickered to the group of men who had entered, their expressions ranging from confusion to anger.
Elizan's wide eyes now filled with shock, white orbs glossed over with luminescent blue tears. He pushed you away as if you had burnt him, recoiling from your touch as though it pained him physically.
"You know other men?!" the ghost cried out, his hands clenching into fists, his midnight blue hair cascading wildly around his face like a tempestuous sea. The tortured cries of the groom echoed through the room, sending a shiver down your spine as you awkwardly shifted on your feet, feeling like a character caught in an soap drama.
"…Yes?" you replied, unsure.
"How could you do this to me?!" He sobbed, a dark shadow covering his face. "Running off on an affair the DAY of our marriage?!"
"Well, that's a rather dramatic accusation—" you started, but Elizan shook his head in anguish.
"Answer me! Do you have another man?!" His voice shook the room, and you took a few cautious steps back.
"Elizan, please," you uttered gently, your eyes darting nervously toward one of the men in the room.
Your lover didn't meet your gaze; instead, his eyes were locked onto the ghost, a storm of emotions brewing beneath his features. As you jumped down from the makeshift podium, you shot an apologetic frown at the ghost, hoping to diffuse the escalating situation. "Don't you understand? You're the other man."
"No! You're married to me!" Elizan shrieked, lunging forward in a frenzy, his nails clawing at the air as if trying to grasp something intangible. "Whoever he is—He's the other man!"
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MALLEUS DRACONIA
"Whoever he is—He's the other man!"
Lilia raised an eyebrow with a chuckle, his form reclined against a fogged-up window of the room. The weather was gloomy and stormy, the skies tinted green outside, casting an eerie glow over the scene. The window pane, streaked with raindrops and mist, blurred the view of the turbulent skies beyond. Lilia hummed a tune under his breath, a calm figure amidst the brewing storm.
With a sidelong glance, his eyes locked onto Malleus, whose entire figure shook with a barely contained wrath that threatened to engulf the very air around him. The young prince's chest heaved in violent, choked breaths as smoke wisped from his mouth and nose—tendrils of flames flickering amidst the swirling dust and ash.
A deafening crack tore through the air as a vivid surge of green emerald lightning erupted from the heavens, descending upon the roof of the venue with explosive force. The blast of energy painted the sky with a blinding flash of green as it crashed into the building, sending broken glass and wood raining down upon the venue.
Cursing, Elizan moved you both aside, a large chunk of debris hurtling past, narrowly missing your startled form. As more debris crashed down, he shielded you with an outstretched arm, a shimmering barrier briefly forming to deflect a particularly large piece of wood.
"Spectral pest," Malleus seethed, his eyes aglow with an eerie green hue as his nails elongated into sharp claws. With a click of his tongue, he raised his hands, summoning thorns that spiraled towards Elizan, ensnaring the ghost in their sharp embrace. Simultaneously, from the floorboards below, vines emerged like serpents, their tendrils gently but firmly pulling you away from Elizan's protective embrace and guiding you into the safety of Malleus's arms.
"How—?! Ngh!" Elizan writhed against the thorny vines. The prickly tendrils twisted around him like serpents, their sharp points digging into his ghostly flesh.
Malleus paid no mind to the struggling spirit, keeping his gaze fixed on you as he checked for any signs of harm. His expression softened with relief upon finding you unscathed, albeit a bit dusty.
"Beloved," he murmured, his voice a soothing balm amidst the lingering chaos. His gloved hand moved delicately, sweeping away the clinging dust from your shoulders and arms. Pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, his lips lingered there briefly, conveying a warmth that contrasted starkly with the raw power he had displayed moments ago.
"Are you alright?"
Blinking up at him with wide eyes and frazzled hair shooting up in every direction, you nodded dumbly. Turning away from him, you nearly gasped aloud to see the room in shambles, debris scattered everywhere, and the eerie green glow of energy still lingering in the air. The ghostly residents were in a state of panic, their translucent forms flickering as they moved frantically.
"My dorm," you whimpered, your mind racing as you calculated the cost of the damage.
With a chuckle, Malleus adjusted his grip on you, his muscles flexing as he gently set you down. Your legs felt shaky as you tried to steady yourself.
"I will handle the cost of repair, my dearest," Malleus assured you, bending down to your height, his voice dropping to a whisper. Green eyes bore into yours, strands of his midnight hair falling over his face. "You will not need to worry about such things once we are formally betrothed."
You froze, your face suddenly warming and burning.
"What?!"
Malleus reached out, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering against your cheek, claws dragging across your supple cheeks. "Yes, my dear," he murmured, chest rumbling as his lips curved into a sharp smile. "You heard me correctly."
"I… I don't know what to say," you whispered, feeling dizzy with emotion.
"Will you consider it?" he asked softly, a faint hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "Please?"
Caught in the depth of his gaze, you felt your resolve melting away. "I-I guess?" you breathed, your voice trembling. "I'll… consider it."
A smug smile spread across his face, and he tenderly pressed his lips against yours. "That's all I ask, my dearest."
After ensuring you were alright one last time, Malleus redirected his focus to Elizan. With a flick of his wrist, the thorns under his control tightened around the ghost. Elizan shrieked and thrashed about, his translucent form writhing in pain as the thorns dug deeper.
"Do try to exercise some restraint, my boy," Lilia drawled, tapping his sharp fingers idly against his crossed arms. "We do not want Ramshackle to be bathed in blood. It would be very unsanitary."
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not too sure if i am continuing but feel free to suggest some peepl bookies
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medicinemane · 1 year ago
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It's amazing how much having the roofer who put my roof in and have a direct monetary incentive to finding something wrong with my roof telling me it's fine other than some bruising lets me calm my anxiety about the rain
I'm still worried about whatever's causing the water to leak around that pipe (only when it rains so... I wouldn't think it's plumbing related), but... I can put that one aside if I know it's not a problem with the roof
It's just amazing though what solid information can do
#it's why I'm always using the phrase evidence; it's why I'm always talking about what evidence I do and don't have#here I have evidence I can present myself that says that my anxiety isn't about stuff that's really happening#and that means that I can stop from fixating and being driven crazy by it as much#I could probably totally get rid of it with this if I could give the same treatment to the few other things#that give me anxiety related to the rain right now#if I can feed my anxiety solutions or facts it tends to go away#the problem is I'm often totally in the dark on things#like here; I'm not comfortable going on my roof and I don't know what to look for; so I couldn't just find out myself; I needed help#and there's a lot of stuff like that where even metaphorically I don't know what to look for... so I can't find any evidence#that will prove my warped view of things wrong#this is what I keep trying to explain but... but honestly feels like it never gets through to anyone#...I often wonder if I'm just terrible at communicating#if maybe all my words just kind of come out garbled from what I think I'm saying#...it really does feel like that's the case some times; but... it's unlikely; isn't it?#still... functionally it describes what I experience a lot of times even if it's probably the wrong answer#I just don't know why nothing I say really ever seems to make sense to anyone or... or even be heard 99% of the time#not something new either; felt this way pretty much my whole life... so you see why I wonder if I just...#if I'm not saying what I think I'm saying; like if the words are the wrong words and are confusing everyone
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gojonanami · 9 months ago
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❝ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 ! ❞
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❝ EVERYONE WANTS PROF GETO — IN A WORLD OF BOYS, HE’S A GENTLEMAN ! ❞
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✧ pairing: professor!geto x f!reader (part three of the prof geto series)
✧ summary: you always had the wrong timing with professor geto -- first you were his student, then his T.A., and now it was the wrong place -- he’s moving to Kyoto. but you had a few weeks together before then -- so can you make them last?
✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, a lot of smut (for real), so much fluff (we've earned it), depictions of student/teacher relationship (only ok in fiction not irl!!!), reader is a grad student, but age is vague, fingering (f! receiving), handjob (m! receiving), oral (f! + m! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, shower sex, amateur's take on moral philsophy and ethics, surprise appearance by someone :)
✧ wc: 12,010 (is anyone surprised?)
✧ other parts: part one | part two | v-day special
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Time was the one thing that seemed to always escape you and Suguru — fuck,  timing was never your strong suit to begin with—if your late arrival to Suguru’s first class was any indication. 
You always ended up too early or too late to places, your entire day spent waiting for an appointment in the middle of the day, and your meeting days often mixed up in your head. And now—
Your relationship had an expiration date before it had even started. 
The question you asked when the message from the department head came through hung in the air of his office like a death announcement. And it almost was — the second death of not even the start of what could have been a relationship. 
Suguru’s eyes can’t meet yours, brow furrowed as if he had thought hard enough, he could solve the problem of distance with a simple application of an ethical theory — but unfortunately Socrates nor Plato had invented any solutions for instantaneous travel. 
So the elephant remained. 
“When did you—“ 
“No,” he’s swallowing, his eyes meeting yours again — desperate, but not the desperation you had both felt a moment ago — the desperation felt in the throes of passion — no, this desperation was the one felt when clinging to sand slipping between your fingers, “let’s not talk about this, not right now,” 
“Suguru—“ and his lips find yours again, more insistent this time, his hands slipping around your waist, and each brush of his lips steals away another ounce of sense from you, “we have to talk about—“ 
“I know we do, I know,” he murmurs between kisses, his fingers cupping your cheek, thumb brushing back and forth against your cheekbone, “but I don’t want to think any more — I just want to be with you. I just want you,” and his voice breaks ever so slightly, and it cracks any reservations you have — just as this man always did, “but if you want to talk, we can talk right—“ 
And your lips cut off his sentence, only a moment’s pause before he’s melting into your touch again, your hands sliding against his bare chest, his heartbeat racing as fast as yours was — so much so that you wondered if the beating you heard was your own or his. 
“Your place or mine?” and he blinks, as you kiss his jaw, a chuckle on your lips, “unless you’d like to fuck me in your office, I’ll have to admit it’s one of the things I’ve thought about,” 
And god, all the blood in his body must have fled south in a half second with how much he aches for you, “Now who needs to watch their language?” His words are whispered against your neck, as he leans down to press a sweet kiss there, “what other things have you thought about?” His fingers find your chin, tilting your head until your gaze met his again — dark pools of lust stared back — and your thighs would have pressed together, if his knee wasn’t between them, teasingly rubbing against your far too damp panties. 
“Patience, we have time for that,” and his eyes soften ever so slightly, an iota of relief rippling across his features.
“We do?” And it’s a question he needed to ask — had to ask, but that he wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear the answer to — because he knew it could break him. 
“We do,” you pull him into a kiss, your lips sliding against his, “so the question remains, Professor,” you tease, and a shiver runs down his spine, “your place or mine?” 
~~~
You end up at his place — the car ride there was relatively short, but far too long — wringing your hands in your lap, so you wouldn’t touch him. Because you know it would only take one touch — one touch for him to pull to the side of the road and pull you across the console and into his lap. 
But you wanted to do this right — you needed to do this right. You had both waited long enough — you couldn’t hurry, not when you were both about to cross the finish line. But it didn’t mean you couldn’t toe it. And your fingers brush his outer thigh, and his eyes flicker over to you — a silent warning, and you knew you were playing with fire — the same fire that had burned you both time and time again, but this wasn’t his office. And you weren’t to let a goddamn phone stop you from having what you wanted. 
And you wanted him — so bad — and from the way his gaze found yours, tongue flicking across his lips — he wanted you all the same. Your fingers just rested on his thigh, if only to ground yourself — as if touching him was the same as pinching yourself, to remind you that this wasn’t a dream. It was real — this was real. 
It only became more real as he pulled into his apartment parking lot. He got out first, opening the door for you, as he offered you his hand, and helped you out, drawing close, too close for your brain to function — his lips brushing against your ear, “that’s for teasing me in the car,” you barely manage to gape at him, before he’s leading you inside, a palm resting on the small of your back, as you sneak a glance at him — cheeks still burning.
He was so beautiful — in every sense of that word. His dark hair fell in waves, strands slipping from his bun, assuredly from your tryst in his office; his lips were curled in a slight smile, as he pulled his keys from his pockets; and even his hands were gorgeous — they were so much bigger than yours, and his long fingers, lovely veins running across the back of his hands. 
And you’re finally inside his apartment, as he holds the door open for you — the quiet click of the door makes your heart squeeze, his footsteps against the hardwood still when he’s behind you, his arms slowly curling around your waist. His lips ghost your neck, breath warming your skin, “should we talk first?” 
You lean into his touch, your back pressed into his chest, his fingers lightly squeezing your hips, “we should,” and you should, you had to talk about what was going to happen, what this meant, what Kyoto means — but you want to just stay in this moment, you turn to look at him, and your noses brush, “but I don’t want talk right now,” 
And his breath hitches, as your lips brush his, “But we will later?” his voice is barely above a whisper, as if even a word muttered above a whisper could break this moment. 
“I promise we will,” you murmur, your lips curling, as you turn to face him fully, “but let’s not worry about later right now — there’s only one time that’s important, and that’s right now,” 
“Paraphrasing Tolstoy?” He hums, his arms pull you flush to him, your fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt, already rumpled fabric wrinkling further under your touch, “And what do you plan to do to me right now, Princess?” 
“Oh I have many ideas,” you lean up and brush your lips against the cut of his jaw, delighting in the shiver you draw from him, “so many ideas, Professor — should I write an outline up?” 
“Fuck the outline,” and his lips find yours, his arms curled around you, pressing you flush against him, “I have all I need in my arms right now — I’m sure you’ll give a wonderful oral presentation, now won’t you?” He hums, as his lips part yours a moment, his thumb dragging down your puffy, kiss bitten lips — “I already know you’re an incredible orator,” this fucker knew exactly what to say to make your knees buckle. 
“And I know how good you are with your hands,” you guide them to your hips, “able to tear papers and pantyhose apart,” you teased as a tinge of red appeared across his pretty cheekbones, “I’ll expect a new pair by tomorrow,” 
“Consider it a promise,” and he’s kissing down your neck now, and you wonder if he can feel your pulse jumping under his touch, “but I can’t promise that I won’t do the same thing again,” 
And he’s guiding you to his bedroom, walking backwards, as his teeth nibble at a soft spot of your neck, your fingers finding his jaw to guide him back for another kiss when you pause. 
“What is it?” And you’re reaching into your pocket for something, and then reaching into his as well, as he flinches, fingers far too close to a very sensitive spot, and both of your hands emerge with your phones, turning them off before tossing them onto his couch. And he chuckles, “no risks?” 
“There’s already far too much risk when it comes to us — call it preemptive measures,” and you’re leaning back into a kiss, his lips curled in a smile, “no landlines right?” 
And he laughs, nodding, thumb and forefinger tilting your chin up, “Sure you aren’t a utilitarian at heart?” 
“Well, you are certainly the best consequence, now aren’t you?” and he smiles the same smile that doomed you from the start— 
“What a coincidence,” he murmurs, as he pulls you into his bedroom, helping you lie back on his bed, just as he imagined far too many times to be anywhere near ethical, — I was going to say the same about you.” 
~~~ 
“Shouldn’t I be making you feel good first—“ Suguru sucks air through his teeth as your pretty lips press a kiss to his sensitive erection through his tenting boxers, a dark patch of his pre-cum visible on the fabric, “please, sweetheart—“ 
“This is for all the times your email and phone calls blueballed us—“ you smirk, teasing the head with your thumb through the fabric — “and I have to tease you — I mean Professor Geto begging me to suck to him off? Maybe I should make you work for it, write a paper on why you think I should let you cum in my mouth,” and he’s gritting his teeth, cock twitching in his boxers, your words far too effective, “tear it apart until you’re begging for it,” he’s swallowing thickly — and god, he’s so pretty like this, hair splayed out like a halo around his head, cheeks ruddy from his flush, and his chest rising and falling, teeth baring down on his lip, “but I’m much too kind for that,” you’re sliding down his boxers, his cock nearly slapping against his stomach, “and we’ve waited long enough,” 
His cock was even gorgeous — truly what was he? Intelligent, kind, funny — and even his naked body was perfect — his cock was flushed red at the tip, black hair neatly trimmed dotted around it, a slight curve that you knew would feel far too good inside your cunt, and pretty veins you couldn’t wait to memorize— 
You weren’t his favorite student for nothing after all. 
You reach for his cock, smearing the thick beads of pre-cum along his length, kissing the tip, as your fingers slowly gripped the base. He grunts, a sigh leaving his lips, muscles tense as he tries not to rut into your hand and hang on to one iota of self control — and oh, you smirked, you’d do away with that soon enough. 
“You think about me in this room, Suguru?” your fingers slowly start to pump him, his head falling back, “did you touch yourself to the thought of this?” 
“Fuck, Princess—“ your lips curl. 
“Is that a yes?” And you lean down, parting your lips for his length as your tongue traces a teasing trail down his vein, “or a no?” the tip of your tongue lapping at the pre-cum that leaked from his slit, “c’mon, Sugu, not so good to keep your student waiting — maybe I’ll drop the class,” 
“I’ve thought about you — you know I have,” the words leave his lips, any hint of self control lost as his length presses against your cheek when you run a thick stripe with the flat of your tongue up his dick, “wanted to fuck you, taste you, make you scream my name—and,” his gaze softens ever so slightly as his only can in the midst of all this passion, “I wanted to wake up with you, make you breakfast, cuddle you—“ 
And he’s groaning, as you finally wrap your lips around his throbbing cock, tongue swirling around the tip, as his name left his lips in reverence, long fingers finding their way to weave in your hair. Your hand pumped what you couldn’t fit in your mouth. And you know he’s already close by the way his twitching now when his tip nearly brushes against your throat. 
“Sweetheart, stop, I’ll—“ but you don’t oblige him, fingers brushing against his balls, before you’re bracing yourself against his thighs, as you suck and lick at his length, until he’s groaning, “where should I—“ and you suck at his tip in reply, and his head falls back, lips parted in a groan, as he cums hard, swallowing every drop as he paints your throat white with his release. He’s panting and twitching as he comes down from his high — deliciously flushed and messy, as his chest falls up and down as he pants, trying and failing to catch the breath you had stolen from him — sucked from his dick undoubtedly. 
Eyes lidded as he watches you pull yourself from his cock, a string of spit and cum connecting your lips to his cock, before it drips down your chin, “I may get addicted, Sugu,” and you’re climbing back onto his lap, your lips grazing his still racing pulse, grunting as your clothed cunt rubs against his cock, “gonna have my professor’s cock every night at this rate — maybe I’ll suck you off under your desk next time,” your lips brush against his ear, as he gasps, cock twitching against your needy cunt, “how unethical your cock is compared to the rest of you,” and you’re undoing the buttons on his shirt, until it falls open for you, “wonder what other sounds I can draw from you tonight? Shall we learn together—“ 
And he flipped you onto your back on the bed, lips curled in a smile — but a smile laced with lust, eyes raking over your body as he began to strip your shirt off your body, “did you forget, Princess? I’m the professor,” and he leans down to kiss your erect tits through your bra, delighting at your gasp, before sucking lightly at your erect nipple through the fabric, “and I still have so much left to teach you,” 
He is kissing agonizingly slow up your body, first the valley of your breasts, along your collarbone, and the curve of your neck — until his lips finally find yours again. His tongue traces the seam of your lips before being granted access, tasting your own with a moan you swallow all too eagerly. It’s truly not fair for a kiss to be this good — but again, everything about Suguru Geto was.
“What are you going to be teaching me? Kant? Rawls? Aquinas?” You ask between kisses as his fingers sliding behind you to undo your bra, slipping it from your body, his lips parting from yours, a string of spit connecting your lips to his. 
He drags a thumb down your bitten red lips, “No, today's lesson is a bit unorthodox,” and now he’s kissing back down your body this time, tongue dragging over your stomach and belly button, before kissing right above the elastic of your panties. “I’m going to show what I owe you — what I’ve always wanted to owe you—“ a smile playing on his lips, as his legs force your thighs apart, eyes falling onto the wet patch on your underwear with a lust ridden gaze, “and how much I can make you moan my name from it,” 
His fingers begin to ghost up your thighs, before he leans down to ghost all too chaste kisses up your inner thighs, pretty hands holding your flesh still even as it shakes under his attention. 
“Seems like you enjoyed tasting me almost as much as I did,” he teases, dark eyes flickering up to meet yours, as his finger teased the drenched fabric, thumb rubbing against your clit, drawing a lovely gasp from your lips, “no smart remarks now? You always have so much to say,” and he’s pulling your panties down your thighs, seeing your pretty folds on display for him, glistening with your arousal — your need for him, “don’t tell me all it takes is my face between your thighs to get you to fall quiet,” and his lips curl as your lips pout, only making him chuckle, “don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll make sure the only thing you know how to say is my name after this,” 
He presses a sweet kiss to your dripping folds, nose brushing against your sweet clit, the tip of his tongue tracing your outer lips teasingly, “thought about this so long, dreamed about this sweet cunt, Princess — tastes and smells better than I ever imagined,” your fingers grasp at the strands of his hair, tugging the hair tie from his messy bun, toes curling into the sheets, “wanna spend all night buried in this pussy,” 
And his tongue licks a stripe up your cunt, ghosting over your entrance, before he’s circling your clit again. Moans leave your lips, again and again, lips closing over your clit to suck. Your muscles tense, back arching and your nails digging into his scalp, “barely even started, baby, don’t go cumming just yet,” 
“Sugu, please, more,” you whine, looking down at him, eyelashes nearly fluttering. 
His lips curl, “How can I say no to my favorite student?” And his fingers spread your sweet folds, your cunt fluttering around nothing, as he gathers your slick on his thick digit, working his way into your tight walls. 
You’re gasping at the way his finger sinks knuckle deep into your tight cunt, your insides wet and warm, “your pussy is as talkative as you are,” the lewd squelch of your walls fills the silence, “maybe even more,” as he begins to fuck you in earnest, “think you need more, don’t you, baby?” And he’s adding another finger, the delicious stretch making your mouth fall open at the intrusion of his fingers. 
You’re bucking against his touch, thighs shaking as you do, his fingers curling against that spot that has you moaning his name, his dick half hard already just from feeling your walls around his fingers. 
You’re so fucking close — the drag of his fingers against your walls, your hips meeting his thrusts, “good girl, you take me so well, can’t wait to sink into you, Princess,” and his lips find your clit again, teeth grazing it teasingly, “s’good for me, baby, you close?” And you’re nodding, walls fluttering around his fingers, and he grunts, “cum for me,” 
And you do, your head falling back onto the pillow, as you cum hard, his name on your lips, as your walls squeeze around his fingers. He finger fucks you through your orgasm, tongue lapping up your release, his lips leaving your clit with a pop. 
“Such a good girl,” he murmurs, pulling his fingers around your sweet cunt. Your eyes flutter open, watching him lick his lips clean, before he meets your gaze, pressing his fingers into his mouth and sucking them clean, “sweetest thing I ever tasted, baby,” 
He’s kissing your thighs, as you come down from your high, teeth grazing the plush flesh of your inner thigh, sucking and pinching, before soothing it with his tongue, “s’good for me,” and he’s slinking back up your body, his hard cock catching on your clit, making both of you groan. 
“Please, Suguru, I need you,” your fingers find the back of his neck, threading through his hair,  and he smirks. 
“Look at my T.A., so needy for her professor,” and your fingers tug at his hair to pull the smirk off his lips, “I’d say you hold all the power in this relationship, Princess,” 
“Do I, now?” Your fingers curl around his length, teasing the leaking head with your thumb making him hiss. 
And his gaze meets you so earnestly, it nearly makes you melt, a gasp leaving his lips as he cups your cheek, “You could ruin my life, and I would thank you for it, if it was you,” 
“Suguru—“ 
“If you were going to use me, I’d tell you to use me. If you needed me, I’d want you to call me,” he leans down to kiss your forehead, “and If you didn’t love me, I’d love you anyway,” and he doesn’t let you respond, lips brushing against yours, as he gently moves your hand away, and lines himself up, the head of his cock rubbing against your sensitive clit, “are you ready?” 
And you’re nodding, a huffed chuckle escaping your lips, “Been ready for far too long — there’s no other electronics around here right?” 
He laughs, “No, just you and me,” molten lava stared back at you, a heat seeping into your skin as he guided himself into your fluttering cunt, inch by inch, as his name leaves your lips in a desperate moan that nearly has him cumming right then and there, not to mention how eagerly your pussy swallows his cock whole, “fuck, such a good fucking girl f’me, baby,” 
He split you open as he sunk into you, pretty walls stretching around him — delicious pleasure with an undercurrent of pain, soft praises whispered in your ears as he did, setting an agonizingly slow pace, “that’s it, baby, look at you, taking me s’well,” he’s pressing sweet kisses to your neck, as you bite your lip, “are you okay?” and he finally bottoms out, stilling as your walls clamp around him, a groan leaving his lips, “so tight, so much better than I could have imagined,” 
“Sugu, please, move,” and you didn’t need to say anything more — he starts slow, languid thrusts that drive him deeper into your cunt, his fingers lift your legs up, hooking them around his waist, and you wrap them even tighter, the tip of his cock hitting even fucking deeper, “fuck, Sugu, so deep, so good—” 
“You were made for me, just like this cock was made for you,” he grunts, the lewd squelch of your insides, the slapping of your skin against his, “been thinking about this for so long, pretty girl, never wanna leave this cunt,” his vulgar words only made your walls flutter around him, “trying to keep my dick, Princess? Don’t worry, it’s only for you anyway,” he teases, “my pretty girl’s cunt been denied twice — gotta make sure you learn your lesson this time, right?” 
And god you were — you were learning his shape, his length, the slight curve he had, every vein that lined his cock, every inch — and you’d be sure to memorize it. Because he may be reaching you this time — a moan leaving your lips as his cock kissed a particularly deep part of your cunt — but the next lesson, you would be sure to pass with flying colors. 
“S’close, Sugu, fuck, ngh—“ and he’s nodding, his fingers reach and rub your clit in circles, cock hitting that part of your cunt that has you seeing stars as pleasure rips up your body, as you cum. Your toes curl, fingers grasping at him to pull him impossibly close, His eyes flicker open, watching your cunt squeeze around his cock, a white ring of cum around his base, he fucked you through your orgasm. 
His hips begin to stutter, a groan pulled from his lips, “S’good baby, I’m close—where—“ 
“Inside,” and his dick twitch, “cum for me, Suguru,” and he does, notching himself deep inside you, as he spills his seed inside, thick spurts painting you walls, as he moans your name. His thrusts slow, his lips brushing against yours. And you smile up at him, still dazed, his softening cock still inside you, “well that was very unethical,” a giggle escaped your lips, and his lips curled, as he leaned up to kiss you again. 
“And how much more unethical would it be to do it again?” and you hum, as you flip him over onto his back. 
“It’s a sunk cost fallacy at this point, think we can get away with it now,” and your lips find his in a hot kiss, your teeth grazing his bottom lip, tugging at it as he pulls away. 
“A philosopher and an economist?” he chuckles, his lips grazing your jaw now, murmuring, “I learn more about you every day,” 
“I could cite Kant or Butler if you’d prefer—” and he’s grinding his hips under you, a gasp parting your lips, as his cock slides against your soaked cunt, “Sugu—” 
His lips curl in that damn smile, and all words fall away, as he kisses you, “I think I would rather listen to my name leave you lips instead, princess.” 
~~~
RING. RING. RING. 
Fuck. You give a soft groan — a dream again? 
A small sigh parts your lips, as reality washes over you. Eyes fluttering open and shut, as sleep pulls at your eyelids still. Your hands reach over to both sides, but find no one as expected, you sigh, rolling over and burying your face in your pillow. It was all soft sheets and shining sunlight — but no Suguru. You kicked your feet up and down, pouting. You thought you were over having those dreams. 
But then….why did it smell like him? 
“What are you doing?” And you snap up, turning quickly, the comforter sliding down slightly and find Suguru standing in the doorway of his bedroom, leaning against his door frame. He looks sinfully good — long hair still thoroughly rumpled from the night before, pretty lips a little kiss bitten red, only a black t-shirt and boxers thrown on, and his obsidian gaze fixed on you. 
“What—what are you doing?” And he raises an eyebrow. 
“Isn’t that obvious? Watching you,” he chuckles, as your cheeks burn, “can you blame me? I’m enjoying the view,” he teases, as you glance down and see that half the blanket had slid down, exposing your bare chest. 
You pull the blanket back on, wrapping it around yourself, “So one night in bed and the ethics fall out the window, huh?” 
“Well, you did a good job defenestrating them, didn’t you?” He chuckles, sipping his coffee, “have to take responsibility for your actions — it is your duty,” 
“Oh, it’s my duty now?” And he’s climbing back into bed beside you, “and what does this duty entail?” And he hums, as your fingers find the fabric of the front of his shirt and tug him close, before sliding up to wrap around his neck. 
“Well, Kant said, it’s not the consequences that matter, but the motives behind the actions,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting over your jaw, “so what are your motives?” 
“My motives are…” you consider your words, as you suppress the moan from his teeth grazing his pulse, and you pout, “you’re distracting me,” and he laughs, the lovely vibration against your skin making you shiver, before he draws back, thumb drawing circles on your palm now, “I want to wake up with you, I want to fall asleep beside you, I want to hear about your days and your night — even ones I spend with you, and I’d say my main motivation is to be with you,” your fingers clasps his thumb, before slowly intertwining your fingers with his, “is that a sufficient answer, Professor Geto?” And he’s silent a moment, a sweep of anxiety rushes across your body, fingers grasping at the sheet hidden under the comforter, as you add, “but Kant would also argue that the behavior is not one done of good will since, even if the consequence is good, it’s not done out of respect for the moral law—“ 
And his lips find yours, cutting off your ramble mid sentence, letting each sentence, word, and thought burn under his touch, each brush of his lips and his hands — as one palm cupped your cheek, while the other found purchase on your thigh — erased more of your worries, until he finally parts—
“It’s always good, if it’s you that I have as my consequence,” and he erodes the last of your concerns with his words, as his lips find yours again, “I was going to make you breakfast,” he mutters against your lips, meeting and parting again and again, before he’s easing the blanket from your fingers, gaze darkening as he sees you fully. And he’s easing you onto your back, against the plush pillows and sheets, as he kisses a hot trail down your body, before he finds himself between your legs again, tongue darting out to lick his lips, “but I think I may have my meal first.” 
~~~
Suguru would have thought it was a dream, if he hadn’t woken first. To wake again in your arms, sunlight filtering through in his bedroom, your arms curled on his front, and your legs entangled, the warmth of your breath heating his skin, and your face tucked into the crook of his neck. 
He had to pinch himself to make sure, eyes drifting up to the ceiling to the same fan he had stared at on many sleepless nights with only thoughts of you plaguing his mind, before his gaze fell back to you — only to find you beside him now. 
There was no more perfect dream than this, but it wasn’t one, as the back of his fingers caressed your cheek gently, and you stirred only for a moment, a whisper on your tongue, “Sugu,” you murmured, lips parted as your nestled further into his chest, and his body burned with want. 
Fuck. He tried to shift his hips away from you — this wasn’t helping his early morning problem — now was it? He really didn’t want a repeat of the hotel bathroom again, but this time, he could take his time — because you both had it. The end of the semester had mostly come and gone — he could wait on grading the papers — if only it meant a few minutes more in bed with you. 
You woke up soon enough after he had left bed, hoping to start on the beginnings of breakfast, but he found himself feasting on another meal instead. 
“Sugu, please, s’close,” what was it about you that tasted so heavenly? He had spent his life pouring over ethical dilemmas and trying to tackle problems of moral truths, but as he brought you over the edge to your second orgasm, he couldn’t help but wonder if he should have spent his time buried in your cunt instead of books. 
He lapped up your release eagerly, teasing your swollen clit with the tip of his tongue before running a thick stripe up the length of your cunt, drawing another gasp from you — thighs shaking from pleasure. 
“Sugu, please, enough,” and he eases off, chin and lips still sticky with your cum, as his tongue darted out to clean some of it off, wiping the rest off with his arm, “I want you, please,” 
And fuck, he could cum just hearing those words from your kiss ruined lips, eyes blown out in lust, and your bare chest rising and falling. He drags his cock over your folds again, “need me again, Princess? Last night not enough for you?” he grunts when he watches your walls clench around nothing, as if to tempt his dick to sink into you. 
He bit his lip, it was working. 
Eventually, the two of you lie entangled again, a little stickier than before, your faces half an inch apart, and your fingers tracing his jaw. 
“I wish we could stay here in this bed forever,” you murmur, and he turns his head to brush his lips against your fingertips, soft kisses pressed to each one, his nose then rubbing against your palm, “no responsibilities, no reality, just us,” 
“Sounds like heaven,” he murmurs, words whispered against your skin, “of course I think any place with you is,” except when he can’t touch you, when he can’t kiss you, when he can’t smile at you without his heart aching — but he doesn’t say that, “we should talk shouldn’t we?” 
“We should,” your eyes meet his, an ache that only made the ache in him grow, “I don’t want to stop you from going to Kyoto,” 
“I would if it was for us, for you,” and your lips curl sadly, teeth bearing down on your bottom lip, as if to stop yourself from saying yes, that you’d let him — let him say no, let him keep his old job, let him stay in Tokyo. 
“But that’s exactly why I can’t do that, for you — you said you wouldn’t jeopardize my future, and I can’t do that to you too,” you say softly, pressing your forehead to his, “I can’t let you put your career on hold for us, I know you’ve wanted this. You must’ve since you applied,” 
“I only applied because I thought we would never—“ he cuts off, lump sitting on his throat, “I don’t want this to end before it’s barely started,” 
“Me either,” you say softly, and his lips brush yours — he didn’t want it to end, not now. Not ever. 
And then he realizes — it doesn’t have to. 
“Then we start there,” he says, as he parts from your lips, words said in the promise of the same breaths you both had just exhaled, “I’m not moving until next semester. We have two months of summer before I’ll be in Kyoto full time, and before you have classes again,” his fingers find yours, intertwining with his, hand engulfing yours, “We’ll live as philosophical presentists,” and you scoff, a smile pulling on your lips. 
“You don’t miss an opportunity to give a lesson, do you?” He gives a wry smile. 
“Take the professor out of the classroom—“ and you snort, “what I mean is let’s live in this moment — we could discuss the future and past all day long — but neither exist right now,” and he rests your palm against his cheek, fingers squeezing your own, “but we do, in this moment right now, so why don’t we savor it?” 
Your lips can’t help but curl into a smile, “How about instead of a drink you make me breakfast?” 
~~~~
Was it possible to get deja vu from an experience you hadn’t had yet? 
You step into Suguru’s shower, a distinct sense of deja vu settling over you as you wash yourself, the marks of the night before (and this morning) still littering your body, as if to remind you that it wasn’t a dream. 
It better not be, as you pinched yourself again, pressing your hands to your still hot cheeks, sticking your head under the water. God, this shower smelt like him, the scent of his shampoo and soap lingering in the bath, even after he had left. He had showered here this morning, after you had laid in for a bit longer, emerged from the master bath with only a towel around his waist, stray water droplets running down his chest, drenched black strands clinging to his skin. He had stood here, and washed himself — lathering his body, hands drawn up and down his muscles, from his shoulders to his chest to his stomach — lower and lower—
You bit your lip, as you pressed your thighs together.
No, no, if you did that and Suguru caught you, he would never let you live it down. You finish your shower, the squeak of the faucet as you shut the water off, before toweling off. You glanced at your clothes hanging on the towel rack outside the shower, rumpled from the night before, reluctant to pull it back on. Instead, you step out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around your body, 
You had a better idea. 
~~~
“You have good timing,” Suguru says, smile on his lips, as he folds the omelet, yours he had decided, as with pancakes, his first omelet has not come out as well as this one had, “not late for once,” as he carefully plates the other omelet with some rice as well as miso soup he had made the night before, “I—“ 
And he turns, words fleeing his mind, assuredly taking his several years of education and teaching with it, as all the blood from his brain floods downward. 
You were wearing his button up from last night, the wrinkled fabric draped over your body, falling past your thighs, the buttons mostly done, with a few top buttons unbuttoned far too teasingly — just one more and he could kiss your chest, two and he could— 
Fuck. 
“What?” You blink, chewing on your lip, “sorry I didn’t want to get back on my clothes from last night, so I stole your shirt, and uh,” your gaze shying away, “your boxers,” 
Self control. He had perfect self control — hell, this last year had been an exercise in self control — control from brushing his fingers over your cheek, control from saying anything that pushed the line any further than the two of you had blurred it, control himself from taking you in his office (though he had not controlled himself as more as he was interrupted — twice). 
But it was as if the dam had broken,  the small cracks formed in the concrete now had compromised the integrity of the barrier and had burst the night before, and now — he rounded the counter, his arms reaching for you — there was no putting the water back in the dam after a flood. 
Then again, he was more than happy to get swept away — if it was you. 
“Sugu—ummph,” his name was muffled by the namesake’s own lips, swallowing the rest of his syllables along with your breath. His hands rake down your sides, his large hands slipping under your shirt, finding bare skin underneath. 
“Nothing but my boxers and shirt?” He kisses your jumping pulse, lips lingering on your neck, as his hands squeeze your hips, “it’s like you knew what I wanted for breakfast, Princess,” fingers toying with the hem of the boxers you stole, “stealing isn’t very ethical,” 
“Neither is a professor sleeping with a student,” you said between gasps. 
He chuckles, “Well, a fair point, but let me remind you,” his fingers tease the elastic of his boxers you wore, the pads of fingers burning against your skin, as his erection pressed between your ass, drawing a gasp from your lips, “you wanted it,” 
“What’s gotten into you?” you murmur, as his hand dips into your boxers, your head pressed against his body, lips parted, as a ribbon of heat spreads like a fire in dry heat. 
And he knows exactly what’s gotten into him, his clothes on you, the scent of his soap and shampoo on you, and the way your body just melts under his touch—as your eyes drift to meet his own, looking up with lust scrawled across your features. 
“You just look like a dream,” and his body met yours with a practiced ease, as if he had loved you all his life, and not for the first time last night, “one that I’ve had for far too long,” he buried. His face in the crook of your neck, lips pressing careful kisses as if you’d disappear under his touch, “is this real?” 
And he doesn’t know why his breath catches at the question, a question he knows the answer to, because he knows you’re real, your warm skin under his touch, the pulse he felt racing under his lips — but he still worried he’d wake up in any second and you wouldn’t be here. 
You softly chuckle, pinching his arm, “you feel that?” And he nods, and you turn to face him, leaning up to kiss his lip chastely, “did you feel that?” And he’s nodding, eyes fluttering, before you kiss his neck, teeth grazing his soft skin there, a gasp parting his lips, as you lean back, a smirk pulling on your lips,  “and you definitely felt that,” you press your body into his, “this is real, I’m not going anywhere,” and he smiles, arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you flush against him, “should we have breakfast now?” 
His lips curl, his fingers tilting your chin up, as he leans down to kiss you again, “in a minute.” 
Because now you both had plenty of those. 
~~~
“Where are we going?” 
Suguru laughs, you were sure his laugh was in the top five noises that he made — right between him whispering your name in the mornings  and the way he groaned when you teased him particularly badly. 
His eyes still fixed on the road, flickered to you for a moment while he drove, “The more you ask, the less likely I am to tell you,” and you pout, hiding the smile that creeped on your lips as you crossed your arms. 
After the day you two spent, the next day, Suguru had already made plans to take you on a date — only giving you a day or so to prepare. No instructions except to wear layers to keep a little warm. 
“You weren’t likely to tell me anyway,” he chuckles, as you glance at him again — it still almost feels forbidden as you did — he had opted for contacts rather than glasses, his hair tied in a bun as usual, lips curled in your favorite smile — you didn’t have to steal glances anymore, these glances were yours to have. 
It felt so different from that drive you had taken to the conference — it felt as if you were being suffocated by your feelings, sucking the air you breathed from your lungs as if to stop you from speaking because any word you spoke would only cross that line you couldn’t even toe without drowning. But now, that line wasn’t even blurred, it was gone, washed away by the decision the two of you made — and it couldn’t have been better. 
Because now you could do this. 
Your fingers rest on the gap of the console, before sliding over, and finding his thigh. His eyes slide over to you, “Need something sweetheart?” 
You hum, drawing circles on his thigh, “Wondering if I could convince you to tell me where we’re going with some extra credit?” 
“I don’t remember assigning any extra credit, plus you’re not being graded, but even if you were,” you smile, “you’d have at least a B+,” 
You gasp, “Suguru!” He laughs, even harder when he spots the pout on your lips, “I think I deserve higher than that,” 
He pulls up to a stoplight, fingers finding yours  “well maybe you can change my mind tonight,” 
“Will we ever get there? Or is it a ‘Waiting for Godot’ situation?” He snorts, as he intertwined his fingers with yours, lifting the back of your hand to his lips and holding it there. 
“I promise I’ll never keep you waiting,” and your gaze softens, as he continues to hold your hand as he drives. 
You smile, squeezing his hand, “Good, because I think we both have waited long enough.” 
~~~
“Is the blindfold necessary?” 
“Trust is essential to a relationship,” Suguru replied, his arm around your waist as the other hand held your own, a blindfold tied around your eyes, as he guided you somewhere — the blindfold had come a few minutes before you reached your destination, “don’t you trust me, princess?” 
“Oh I don’t know, it depends on whether you’re planning on murdering me and disposing of my body in the ocean,” and he pauses — you can almost see the furrow of his brow, “you may have blindfolded me but I can still smell,” the scent of sea salt carried by the cool breeze tickled at your nose, even as you still walked on pavement approaching the beach, you could faintly hear the distant sounds of waves crashing against the shore. 
“I suppose I should have gotten nose and ear plugs for my far too observant girlfriend,” and the title makes your heart squeeze, as his fingers squeeze your hand, before parting, only to brush against your hair as he undoes the blindfold, “well since it’s spoiled already,” 
The blindfold falls away, sunlight peeking through a moment, as the world comes into view — a beautiful sandy beach with salty waves parting through the shore, so bright as the sun reflects off the sand, making your eyes squint, only for Suguru to place sunglasses carefully on your face, “You came prepared,” your lips curl, as he tucks the blindfold away, and lifts up a picnic basket, “in more than one way,” 
“Well, I thought a picnic on the beach was a nice way to begin today,” and he pulls out a sunhat from his bag as well, placing on top of your head, “don’t worry, I have sunblock as well, in case we need it,” 
“You thought of everything, didn’t you?” and you look up at him, the light glinting off his flint eyes like sparks, “and now what’s my job here?” 
“Enjoy today, take in the view,” and your fingers brush his cheek, somehow warmer than before. 
“Funny, I thought I already was.” 
~~~~
“Are you cold?” Suguru murmurs, when he feels you lean on him, a slight shiver against his chest that runs up your spine, and before you can answer, he’s wrapping a blanket around the two of you. 
“Mr. Philosopher always has all the answers don’t you?” Another breeze has you moving even closer, as his palm moves to lean towards you, arm brushing against your back. 
“Not all the answers,” and he brushes a stray hair behind your ear, as his lips brush against it, “I still don’t know how you became so irresistible,” 
“All the ethics, of course,” and he snorts, as he hums, his hand sliding against your cheek, as his lips press against the soft skin beside your ear, “Sugu—” 
“Hm?” he leans back to listen so intently, noses brushing, and all the words you have slips off your tongue, every thought flies right out of your head, and all that’s left is the feeling of warmth that comes with being this close. 
God, he was unfairly gorgeous — even now, his hair unkempt from the wind as dark locks trickled out of his bun, his  skin painted with a pretty flush, and his warm body pressed against you made any thought of being cold evaporate. 
“Sweetheart? You okay?” he murmurs, fingers drifting over your cheek, a tilt of his head, and pulls you back from your reverie like the waves pulling more sand back into the ocean. 
“I’m okay,” you shake your head, as your fingers rest over his, leaning into his touch, “I just was thinking how perfect this moment was,” 
“And what’s so perfect about it?” 
“You and me, just,” you bite your lip, “I didn’t think it’d happen,” 
“Me either,” he admits, “I don’t ever want to hold you back — I couldn’t stand to be the reason for your unhappiness,” 
“I could never see you as that,” and his lips curl, “promise you’ll never leave me?” 
“Princess—“ 
“Just promise,” you murmur, “even if it isn’t real—“ 
“Who says it isn’t?” His lips brush yours, a heat that swallows your cold, creeping anxieties and burns them to nothing, “I promise, I’ll never leave you,” 
“You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep,” 
“Well, call me a Kantian,” he kisses you again, whispering these words against your lips, “because I intend to keep this promise.” 
~~~
“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help?” 
You chuckle, glancing over your shoulder at Suguru looking perfectly lost as he stood, watching you, hands crossed if only to stop him from taking over. 
“For the millionth time, no,” you continue stirring the miso soup you were making, as you tenderized the chicken for the chicken katsu, “just keep me company,” you glance at him, biting your lip as your eyes raked over his outfit — a white shirt tucked under a navy pullover tucked into dark jogger pants, “and you’re already providing eye candy,” you teased. 
“Oh, am I?” He raised an eyebrow, and you turned back to the task at hand, as you set the meat tenderizer down, to prepare the chicken to be breaded, and his arms curled around your waist, “and what if I want you to use a little more than your eyes?” 
“Suguru, my dinner—“ but he continues, fingers brushing your hair aside, his warm breath turning your blood to molten molasses, “you’re making a habit of interrupting our meals like this.” 
“The only thing I want to eat is in my arms,” he kisses your neck, feeling you shiver, “there’s another philosophy — ‘the customer’s always right?’”
You laugh, warmth blooming in his chest at the sound, “this isn’t a restaurant, unless I’m charging you at the end of this,” 
“Maybe you should, I’d be more than happy to oblige,” and you hum as he trailed kisses down your neck to your shoulder — he never had a sweet tooth, but you were the only dessert he ever had craved. 
“Knowing you, it would also come with a review written in red pen,” and it’s his turn to laugh now, as you lowered the stove temperature on the soup, before turning to face him. 
He pulls you flush against him, “I’d hope you’d do better than a B+ this time,” and you glare at him, before your lips curl into a smirk, as you dare closer, your chest now pressed against his. 
“This time I will because my annoying prick of a professor is very much able to be persuaded by other methods not available to me at the time,” your lips ghost over his ear, just as your voice used to haunt him in his dreams, “but now, I think he’ll be quite amenable to my work,” 
“Don’t you want to earn your accolades?” and your smile is more wicked than the night itself, as you lean up to meet his own.  
“Oh I will be earning them,” your lips are so close he could feel the words you spoke as you did — every part of your lips, every flick of your tongue — and then he’s met with your fingers dragging flour over his cheek, “after dinner.” 
Suguru gaped at the flour smeared across his cheek, as you turned back around, the click of the burner as you turned it high again, “Was that necessary? You snorted, as you began to season the chicken, as he wiped the offending flour from his cheek. 
“Well, was it necessary to give me a 99 on the final paper?” 
~~~~
“Well, this is just unfair,” you sat in the middle of a cat cafe — arms crossed and biting back a small smile that threatened to bloom across your lips — the cutest one you had found in the heart of Tokyo that you had reluctantly dragged Suguru. 
He wasn’t a fan of cats or dogs, for that matter. 
But now, after paying the admission fee, and ordering your drinks, the two of you sat in an enclosure of cats you were far too eager to meet — and perhaps, they could sense it. 
“Did you break Kantian principles and lie about hating cats or is the universe playing a prank?” you watch as yet another cat approaches your boyfriend, an entire litter already taking up residence on any available real estate on his body, while you had only a single cat in your lap the entire time, as if it was taking pity on you. 
This was no better than when you were a T.A., swarms of students surrounding Suguru, while you were left with barely a soul. Apparently it applied to students and animals, and you felt a small twinge of jealousy — but you weren’t sure if you were more jealous of the cats or him. 
“I don’t hate them, I just don’t particularly want one of my own,” he shrugs, as he scratches the newcomer behind the ear, “but maybe you’ve changed my mind,” 
“I tend to have that influence,” and his lips curl. 
“I have seem to have developed a soft spot for strays,” and you gape at him, as he snorts at your aghast expression, a cat swatting at his bobbing bangs as he shook with laughter, “but you’re my favorite one,” 
“I better be,” you grumble, crossing your arms and pouting, before you watched him pet yet another cat that had made itself at home on your boyfriend’s lap. And you pull out your phone to sneak a few pictures.
“I wanted to ask you something actually,” he says as you glanced up from your phone, he bit his lip, a small hint of nerves apparent in his stiff shoulders and shy gaze, “I’m going to Kyoto next week to look for an apartment for when the semester starts,” and your heart sinks a little at the thought — the summer was half over already, and it was far too quick for your liking. The more you wanted time to linger, the more it seemed to escape you, “I wanted to ask if you’d like to come to see apartments with me,” 
You blink, you ask softly, “You want me to come?” 
He gets up, easing the cats gently out of his lap, as he makes his way to your side. He sits beside you, the cat in your lap, stretching its way between the two of you, as you rub his head.  
“I know we said we would see how this would go before the start of the semester, but I know what I want — I think I did from the very start of this,” he says, as his ebony gaze finds yours, “I want to be with you — and I’d like you to come with me to pick out an apartment, because I want it to be somewhere you want to be too—“ 
And you cut him off with a kiss, arms thrown around his neck — he freezes a moment, before melting into your kiss, his fingers cupping your cheeks, “We’ll have to make sure it’s pet friendly,” 
He chuckles, his forehead pressed against yours, “So we’re getting a cat?” 
Your fingers find his own as another cat brushes against both of your legs, “That or a poodle.” 
~~~
“What did you think of that place?” You ask as you both walk out of another viewing for an apartment, as he looks at the list he made on his phone, “it had good light, it’s close to the university, it’s pretty spacious,” But he’s sighing, as you tilt your head, “Suguru?” 
“Sorry, it’s nothing,” he’s shaking his head, “i think we should look for another place,” the same thing he had said for the last three places — he had found something wrong with each of them, but this one seemed different. 
“Why?” and he doesn’t answer, and you cling to his arm, a hand on his cheek to guide him to look at you, “Sugu?” 
He bites his lip a little, as he rubs the back of his neck, “it’s just far from the station so when you come to visit, it might be a little difficult for you,” and your gaze softens, mouth opening to reply, “I didn’t want to tell you because I know you would tell me not to worry,” and you close your mouth, and he chuckles, “I was right huh?” 
“Oh, a man is a smart ethics professor and he thinks he knows everything,” you kiss his lips, “you really don’t have to worry. We’ll make it work,” 
“I know, but the round trip on the bullet train is four hours, I don’t want to make you wait longer or waste even a minute of your time together,” he murmurs, as you twirl a dark strand of his hair between your fingers. 
“No moment spent getting to you or being with you is a waste,” you smile, fingers smoothing your boyfriend’s furrowed brow, “plus the train gives me time to catch up on my reading — and you’ll be coming to see me too,”
“I know, I just,” he sighs, leaning into your hand resting against his cheek, “I don’t want to ever be a burden,” 
“Not to me, it’s not a burden when it’s you,” your fingers find his and bring his knuckles to your lips, “you’re worth every minute,” 
“And you’re worth so much more than that,” and you smile against his skin. 
“Always have to one up me, don’t you?” And his arm wraps it’s way around your waist, tugging you close. 
His lips brush yours again, “Always, when it comes to caring for you.” 
~~~
“You found such a perfect hotel room,” you sighed, collapsing onto the pristine (not so pristine now) bed, your feet very sore from all the walking you had done over the last three days, “I’m glad you finally found a place you liked,” and he sits at the edge of the bed, beside you, as he chuckles at the sight of you laid starfished on the bed, “the apartment’s beautiful, close to the university and a station, and it allows pets,” 
His fingers find your foot, massaging the sore sole, bringing a low groan from your lips, eyes fluttering shut, “Good thing, otherwise, they’d never let me bring you in,” and your eyes snap open to playfully kick him and he laughs, as he stares at you, fingers ghosting over your ankle. 
“What are you staring at?” You tease, and he can’t help the words that escape his lips. 
“I love you,” and your breath catches, as your mind struggles to process the words that left his lips, and a chuckle leaves his lips, as he leans over on his elbow to hover over you, “I’ll say it again, as many times as you need to hear it,” 
“You will?” your lips curl into a smile, “because I think I would like to hear it again,” 
“I love you,” and his lips graze against yours, “I love you,” again, his lips linger a moment longer, “I love you,” again, “I love you—” 
And you kiss him this time, your fingers cupping his cheek, sliding to the back of his neck, as your forehead press together, “I love you too,” and he grins down at you, his lips finding yours again and again, pressing you into the comforter, “I love you, Suguru,” you murmur, his fingers skimming your cheek.
“You know you don’t have to say it back—” 
“I know,” you scoff, as you pinch his cheek lightly, “I said it because I meant it, I do love you, Suguru — I have for a long time,” 
He smirks, “A long time?” 
“Shut up,” you pout, and he’s laughing as he showers your face with soft kisses, “nooo, I changed my answer, I don’t know if I love y—” and he’s swallowing your words with another kiss — but this one is languid and deep, a heat that sinks in from his touch, as his body brushes against yours, until he finally parts to allow you both a breath, “not fair,” 
“Sorry sweetheart, no changing your answer now,” he runs his fingers through your hair, and you’re pulling him into another soft kiss, before you bury your face in his chest, and he gives a soft sigh, as the two of you cuddle, a small chuckle on his lips. 
“What is it?” 
“Deja vu,” and you blink, he laughs again, “the last time we were in a hotel together, we weren’t together, but we had these feelings, and now—” his lips find the top of your head, fingers running through your dark locks, “things are so different — it almost feels like a lifetime ago,” 
“It wasn’t that long ago, but I’m glad it feels that way,” your nose brushes against the hollow of his throat, “I want us to fill up our present with good memories, so that we don’t have any of those other ones linger,”
“I think we can manage that,” his lips glide against yours, his teeth grazing your bottom lip, “we should shower,” 
“We?” you raise an eyebrow, a heat that sparks and settles over your skin that only stokes brighter and hotter, when his hand runs down your side and squeezes your hip, “Sugu—” 
“Should we take a utilitarian approach? The benefits: it’s better for the environment to preserve water, we can stay close to each other as we clean our bodies, and reach the spots that are hard for us ourselves to reach. The costs would be,” his lips ghost your collarbone, “we would take longer thus using more water, we would get messier before we would get cleaner, and we might spend a lot more time in bed after,” 
“How is that a cost?” you slip off the bed, tugging your shirt over your head and tossing it at him, before pulling down your shorts, as you open the bathroom door, leaning against the door frame, “Are you going to show me the benefits of being my boyfriend?” 
~~~
“Suguru,” his name left your lips in broken syllables, as the head of his leaking cock teased your drenched entrance, your hands braced against the shower wall, the cold of the wet glass contrasting with the warmth of his body pressed against your back, “please,” 
“Please what, princess?” his lips ghost over your shoulder, licking a water droplet from your neck, as he moves a few wet locks to kiss the skin behind your ear, “You’re going to have to be more specific — I can’t help you, if you don’t tell me what you need — isn’t that the first thing I taught you?” 
“No, the first thing you taught me was to never be late,” you gasp as he allows his tip to sink into your needy cunt only a little, before he allows it to slip out, “fuck, Sugu, please, I want your cock,” 
“There we go,” his chuckle rumbles against your skin, as he guides his length to your dripping pussy before beginning to sink in, “I told you we would be in here for a while,” his fingers find yours, as he thrusts into you in one smooth movement, his balls pressed flush to your ass, “even your fingertips have become like prunes,” he turns your head to see your lips parted and panting for him, cunt twitching as he drags a thumb down your lips, “but my favorite student doesn’t mind does she?” and you whimper as he pulls his hips back, only to pump back in even harder, a moan leaving your lips, as he holds an arm around you to hold you, as he presses his other palm against the wall, as he starts to fuck you in earnest. 
The slaps of your wet skin echoes in the glass walls of the shower, steam from the hot water filling both of your visions, as his tip brushes against your cervix, “S’good, Sugu, so deep,”  your walls flutter around his dick. 
“Good girl, so perfect f’me, take me so well,” his balls slap against the soft flesh of your ass as he fucks you harder, “been thinking about this for so long, thought about taking you in that hotel room all those nights ago, and it’s better than I could have imagined,” one of his hands finds your breast, tweaking and pinching your nipple, as your walls only pull him in deeper and deeper each time he sinks back in, “perfect little princess cunt made f’me, only for me,” 
He’s desperate, as he fucks you deeper and deeper, “Please, I’m close,” your soft cries and moans will be the death of him. He’s turning your head and leaning forward to pull you into a kiss, a sloppy kiss that’s all tongue and teeth. His hands squeeze your hips as he rocks against you again and again, the wet squelch of your cunt ringing in his ears, until he finally hits that spot that has you seeing stars, pulling you over the edge. You cum, the coil in your stomach snapping as you do, your walls clamping down on his dick, as he notches himself deep and cums — spurting his hot release deep inside, as the two of you moan, lips parting. The quiet water drumming against his back fills the silence along with your soft gasps and his pants. The two of you slump forward in the shower, his arm braced around your middle, as his softened cock slips from inside. 
He presses soft kisses to your neck and cheek, whispering quiet praises, “Let’s finish washing up, baby, and I’ll help you into bed,” and you nod, boneless, as you lean against his chest, fingers brushing down his cheek, “are you okay?” 
You nod, as you lean up to kiss his lips, “More than, when I’m with you,” and you add with a dreamy smile, “especially when I find out you’ve fantasized about me,” his already flushed cheeks even redder than before, “you’ll have to tell me more about these thoughts,” 
“And if I refuse?” he murmurs, the blush kissing his ears now, the pink of his soft skin contrasting against the black of his gauges. 
You hum, “I have my ways of making you talk,” and he snorts, as your expression softens, “I love you,” 
He turns you gently, finding your lips in another kiss, your arms wrapped around his neck — and he can’t think of a place he’d rather be than with you, “I love you too.” 
~~~
“It’ll fly by,” you murmur, as you rake your fingers through his hair — you had convinced him to get a trim a week ago, the dead ends long gone, and all that was left were his gorgeous locks. He still opted for the long hair look — sometimes it was tucked away in a bun, other times it was half up, and even at times, he kept it down, “it’s two weeks, and then I’ll come by to visit you,” 
“It’s two weeks too long,” Suguru sighs, burying his face in the crook of your neck, “I’m sorry I had to do—” 
You place a finger over his lips, “Don’t apologize for furthering your career with something you’ve always wanted to do,” you cut him off, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, “I only have one year left of the program, and then after that, we’ll see where we’re at—” 
He glances away, “I don’t know where either of us will be — but I know I want us to be together,” he bites his lip, and it only makes you want to kiss him all the more, “if that’s what you want too,” 
You pull back only to find his lips again, “You never mince your words do you, Professor?” You can’t help but smile at this man — the man you loved more than you could express in any combination of words. 
“Well, I find my most bright students need a more direct approach,” and you laugh, as he’s pressing needy kisses along your jaw, nosing the sensitive skin, “I think you’ll find it’s a tried and true method,” 
“Oh yeah, I’ve tried it — it’s very true,” as his lips kiss their way back to yours, “do you mean that? And what did you mean? Do you want us to live together or live in the same city—” 
“I would like us to live together, if we are at that point then,” his gaze meets yours, a hint of concern dancing across his ever furrowed brow, “I don’t want to pressure you — so why don’t we discuss that when we get there?” 
“Sounds reasonable,” your fingers smoothing his brow, “but for the record,” you kiss the tip of his nose, “I want to live with you too,” and you bite back a grin at the joy that evaporates the hints of worry on his features, “along with our non-negotiable dozen cats and adorable poodle,” 
He laughs, an easy smile that pulled on his lips, as it always did with you, “I told you, I don’t take in strays aside from you,” you grab your pillow and hit him with it, as he laughs, “ow, ow, I’m joking! I’m sorry—” and you’re giggling as he rips the pillow from your grasp, only to roll you over onto your back, “it sounds nice — a home with you — waking up next to you, planning our days, spending our evenings,” he murmurs, “feels like a dream,” 
You pull him into a kiss — you’ve had many dreams about this man before you — far too many sleepless nights hoping for this reality, only to have it ripped away. But you wouldn’t wake up from this dream, the back of your knuckles grazing his cheek, not ever. 
“It won’t be — not for long.” 
~~~~
“Still not awake? You’ll be late if you wake up any later,” a murmured whisper in your ear stirs you awake, words prying you from your unconscious, as you groan softly, limbs and eyes still so heavy with sleep. But you know you have to get up, part ways with your far too warm bed and the tempting grasp of your blanket. 
“Don’t wanna wake up yet,” and a laugh rings in your ear, lips pressing soft kisses to your neck, “noooo, please, five more minutes,” 
He relents as you stretch your limbs and stare at the spinning ceiling fan above you — your thoughts similarly circling the drain — you had a lecture, a presentation, a student council meeting to tend to — not to mention a meeting with your advisor and the department head about your thesis. 
You turn and cuddle into his chest, pressing soft kisses along the space where his collarbone and chest meet, you smirk against his skin as he shivers, as he murmurs your name. 
“What? I’m trying to wake up,” as you lean up and meet him in a lazy kiss, fingers finding the back of his neck, “what better way than this?” 
Today was going to be long, but you supposed it was worth it only to end up here at the end of the day, as you turn and run your fingers through his black locks, “What do you have to do today? First day of a new semester,”
“Two lectures and our meeting later today, and maybe lunch with you?” And your lips curl, as you pull your phone off its charger to check your emails. 
“Really? Lunch? You don’t think that wouldn’t rally scandal across campus two members of the student council conferring outside their meetings on the first day of spring semester?” And he laughs, turning to face you, his short black hair fell in messy tangled in front of his forehead, “might be tempting political intrigue, Yuta,” 
And your boyfriend only smiles, jet black short locks falling in front of his forehead as his fingers brush your cheek before he leans over to press a sweet kiss to your forehead, “I think we’ll be alright,” his fingers intertwined with yours, “we’ve been pretty lucky, don’t you think?”
It was so simple, it was so easy, and it was so right. 
And your phone flashed with a reminder that caught your eye: Meeting with Suguru Geto — the first time you’d see him in several months, the first time since you had broken up, and the first time since he had broken your heart. 
And Yuta called your name, his eyes curious, “You okay?” And you only smile, locking your phone and the glaring reminder away, to lean over and kiss your boyfriend. 
“More than okay,” as you slowly sit up, “come on, we can’t be late, can we?”  
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✧ a/n: this has been a long time coming - so when i planned part three with hannah, it was supposed to have three arcs -- this is only one of them lmao - i suppose i was a bit too ambitious with what i thought i could contain in one part. anyway sorry about this ending lmao :) love you - don't worry they will all have a happy ending
✧ taglist: @hatsunemitskislobotomy, @difficultdomains, @diogodxlot, @that-goth-bisexual, @bash1018, @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, @akvrae, @lalacute03, @rxndou, @c-themoon, @xxrag-d0llxx, @hqtoge, @sugarxlumps, @hopeluna, @actualdeemon, @enchantedpendant, @serendididy, @soulstealercat, @neuviloved, @simply-a-s1mp, @satorusmochis, @maddietries,
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malavera · 3 months ago
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Peaches: “Would you be so kind in lending a hand?” (18+) — Logan Howlett
summary: the friendly old man neighbor of yours is helping you with your wash day
warning: the setting of this one-shot is AU no correlation to Wolverine & Deadpool, SMUT! MDNI, fingering, female oral receiving, age gap (legal), no use of Y/N, the use of pet name peach, sir kink, squirting
wc: 3.5k (well it's a full shot not a drabble ehe)
creds: i forgot where the divider is from, creds to the creator!
dedicating this one to my favorite authors!
@velvrei @wolverinesleftclaw @stark-ironman @lovelybucky1 @cyber333angel @dollverine @joelsgoldrush
peaches masterlist
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The day had finally come when you decided enough was enough. The laundry had been sitting there for three days, staring at you from the corner of your room like a silent accusation. Today was the day you would conquer it. Armed with your resolve, you hauled the overflowing basket to the laundry room. But as fate would have it, the universe had other plans.
The washing machine, that steadfast appliance you’d trusted for years, chose this very moment to betray you. The once familiar hum was replaced by a groan, a sputter, and then—nothing. You stared at it, disbelief turning to frustration as you realized the mountain of clothes in your arms was going nowhere. Your favorite pair of undies, buried somewhere in the pile, would have to wait.
You let out a long sigh, leaning back against the machine, its cool surface doing little to soothe your annoyance. Arms crossed, you dialed your father’s number, hoping for some semblance of a solution.
“Dad, the washing machine broke,” you said, half hoping he’d have a quick fix, half dreading his response.
There was a pause before he spoke, his voice calm, almost too calm. “Ask Logan for help, he’s pretty handy with stuff. I won’t be back until 8 PM tonight, buttercup.”
You nearly dropped the phone. Logan. Of course, it had to be him. The very thought of knocking on his door, asking him for help, sent a thrill of anxiety coursing through you. Why did it have to be him?
Logan Howlett—the man who occupied your thoughts far too often, the man who was the face of your wildest dreams. Just the mention of his name made your heart race. And now, you were supposed to ask him for help? The universe certainly had a twisted sense of humor.
You ended the call, staring at the washing machine like it was some cruel joke. The burnt toast theory, they called it. Sometimes, when things went wrong, it was the universe’s way of steering you toward something better. But as you stood there, contemplating the inevitable encounter with Logan, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was a blessing in disguise—or a test you weren’t sure you could pass.
Logan Howlett had been a fixture in your mind for five long months, ever since he moved into the neighborhood. It wasn’t just his rugged good looks or the way he carried himself with that effortless confidence; it was the way he seemed to have slipped so seamlessly into your life. Your dad, always quick to befriend a fellow drinker, had taken to him immediately. They were practically inseparable, sharing beers on the front porch, watching games in the living room, and even lingering over meals in the dining room.
And there you were, sneaking glances every time Logan was around, feeling that unmistakable flutter in your chest whenever he caught your eye.
Today, though, was different. Somehow, you found yourself standing on his porch, heart pounding as your fist hovered in mid-air. What were you thinking? Asking Logan for help—it felt too forward, too direct. But here you were, ignoring every ounce of self-doubt, raising your hand to knock on his door.
You barely had time to second-guess yourself before the door swung open. And there he was, the embodiment of everything that had been haunting your thoughts for months: tall, effortlessly sexy, his dark hair tousled just right. He was wearing a white shirt that clung to his broad chest and shoulders, tucked into denim jeans that fit him perfectly. You couldn’t help but notice how the summer sun cast a warm glow on his skin, making the moment feel almost surreal.
“Hey,” Logan’s voice broke through your reverie, casual yet deep enough to send a shiver down your spine. He squinted against the sunlight, his expression shifting into one of familiarity. “I was about to come over. Your dad called and asked me to check on something.”
You swallowed, trying to keep your voice steady as your mind raced. “Yeah, the washing machine broke. Dad said you could help… Would you be so kind in lending a hand?”
You could hear your own voice, slightly strained as you tried to strike the perfect balance. Not too high-pitched, not too low. Not too eager, not too aloof. But before you could overthink it any further, Logan flashed you a small smile, one that made your heart do a little flip.
“Yeah, sure, Peach.”
And there it was—that damn nickname that never failed to turn your insides into mush. It started innocently enough, the day your dad brought home a bag full of peaches and peach-flavored drinks. Logan had been there, chuckling at the sight, and ever since, he’d called you “Peach” with that easy, teasing tone. Now, every time he said it, you couldn’t help but melt a little, even if you tried to play it cool.
As you turned to lead him to your house through the backyard, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was the universe’s way of pushing you closer to the man who had taken up residence in your thoughts.
“It made a really loud noise and it was shaking really bad, the sound was a bit scary,” you admitted, your voice tinged with worry. “And also, can you check if my clothes are alright? Did it tear them off or something?”
Logan nodded thoughtfully, a low hum of consideration escaping him as he surveyed the situation. “Where did your dad put his tools?” he asked, his gaze already scanning the room.
“Oh, it’s right there,” you said, pointing towards the shelf against the wall. Determined to be helpful, you stood on your tippy toes, stretching to reach the toolbox. But before you could grasp it, Logan moved past you with ease, his hand already closing around the handle.
“Careful, Peach. It’s pretty heavy,” he murmured from behind you, his voice close enough to send a subtle shiver down your spine. His presence loomed over you as he reached up effortlessly, the scent of his cologne mingling with the warm summer air.
You stepped back, feeling a mix of flustered and grateful as he handled the heavy toolbox with ease, making you feel small and protected all at once.
“O-okay.” The stutter slipped out before you could stop it. Seriously? Get a grip, you scolded yourself internally. Trying to regain some composure, you quickly added, “I’m just—gonna… fix you something to drink.” You gestured awkwardly towards the kitchen, hoping to retreat before you embarrassed yourself further.
Logan nodded absentmindedly, his focus entirely on the washing machine that seemed to be on its last legs. He didn’t even glance your way, which was both a relief and a disappointment. You took a nervous step back, then another, finally turning and heading to the kitchen, hoping a moment away would help you steady your nerves.
Leaving his presence created an unfamiliar ache in your chest, a tug of reluctance you hadn’t anticipated. It was as if some part of you didn’t want to leave his side, didn’t want to be apart from the quiet strength that Logan exuded. The thought of retreating to the kitchen, of putting physical distance between you and him, felt wrong, almost unnatural.
You wanted to stay. You wanted to watch him work on the broken machine, to see those skilled hands in action, to listen to the steady, assured way he moved and spoke. But at the same time, you knew you couldn’t trust yourself around him. Not when your heart raced at every little interaction, not when just being near him made you feel so unsteady.
You didn’t have the confidence to be casual, to act like you weren’t hanging on his every word and gesture. And you certainly didn’t have the strength to face the feelings that threatened to overwhelm you every time you were close to him. So instead, you sought refuge in the kitchen, hoping the distance would help calm the storm inside you, even as it left you aching for more.
Twisting the faucet, you watched as the water streamed out, the steady flow almost hypnotic in its simplicity. The kitchen was quiet, the only sound the gentle rush of water hitting the sink. You leaned forward, letting the coolness soothe your heated skin, and splashed your face with the cold water, hoping it would bring some clarity to your muddled thoughts.
For a moment, the shock of the cold jolted you back to reality, away from the overwhelming thoughts of Logan that had been swirling in your mind. You closed your eyes, letting the droplets drip down your face, trying to steady your breathing and collect yourself. It was just a broken washing machine, just a neighbor doing a favor.
You swung open the fridge, your hand instinctively reaching for your favorite peach-flavored soda. The cool metal of the can felt reassuring against your palm as you pulled it from its place. With a satisfying hiss, you cracked it open, the sweet, fruity scent immediately filling the air.
Reaching for a tall glass, you filled it with ice, the cubes clinking softly as they settled. Then, you poured the bubbly soda over them, watching as the fizzy drink cascaded down, swirling and dancing around the ice. After inserting a straw into the glass, you carefully picked it up, the cool condensation forming on the outside of the glass. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself, and made your way back to where Logan was.
"Here you go," you announced, placing the glass on the nearby table. Logan turned his attention from the washing machine to you, his eyes briefly darting to the drink you’d set down. A smile curved on his lips, the warmth in his gaze making your heart skip a beat. “Thanks, Peach.”
“Ehe…” You offered a nervous smile in return, your cheeks heating up at the casual endearment. Trying to steady your fluttering nerves, you grabbed the straw and shoved it into your mouth with a little more force than intended. It was your way of silencing the awkwardness bubbling inside you, a desperate attempt to keep any embarrassing sounds from escaping.
“So, your dad’s going on a date later today, huh?” Logan’s voice was light, but he noticed the nervousness you were trying to mask. His intention was to ease the tension with casual conversation.
“Y-yeah, he’s working now, but that’s what I’ve heard,” you replied, nervously fiddling with the straw. You decided to sit on the edge of the table where Logan’s drink was, adjusting it carefully to avoid spills.
Logan glanced at you, then back at the washing machine, his smirk widening. “You okay with that?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” you responded, a bit defensively.
Logan chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with curiosity. “From what I’ve heard, you’ve never been too thrilled about him dating. Is there something you’re not telling me?”
You hesitated for a moment, the weight of Logan’s question pressing on you. Taking a deep breath, you decided to let your guard down. “Well, it’s just… I’ve always felt like I have to compete for his attention. It’s silly, I know, but it’s hard when you’re used to being the center of someone’s world.”
Logan’s expression softened, and he gave you an understanding nod. The moment of connection hung between you as Logan turned his attention back to the washing machine. He worked with focused precision, his hands moving deftly as he made the final adjustments. The clinks and whirs of the machine were soon replaced by a steady, rhythmic hum.
“There we go,” Logan said with a satisfied grin, stepping back to admire his handiwork. The washing machine was back in action, its gentle whirl now a reassuring sound.
You let out a relieved sigh, watching the machine function smoothly. “Thank you so much, Mister Howlett. I really appreciate it.” you said, your gratitude sincere as you adjusted from your sitting position to stand up. You set down your now-empty glass on the table, the slight clink of the glass breaking the brief silence.
Hearing you address him as "Mister Howlett" sparked something within Logan—an unfamiliar, yet undeniable feeling. It was a sentiment he had been trying to avoid, one that stirred within him despite his best efforts to keep his distance. The formal address seemed to intensify the feelings he had been wrestling with, making them more pronounced.
You're not the only one who has a crush, he does too.
From the moment Logan had closed the trunk of his truck while moving into the neighborhood, you had been on his mind. He remembered the day vividly—watching you step out of your car in a beautiful white sundress that hugged your upper body and flowed gracefully. The way the dress accentuated your figure, combined with the ease of your movements, had captured his attention in a way he hadn’t anticipated. As you came knocking on his door with your dad beside you to welcome him into the neighborhood, those peach-flavored pie you brought had been lingering in his mind ever since. He wondered if you smell as good as that pie where he devoured in one full bite that night. And here you are, wearing the same white sundress that's gotten him obsessed with.
As Logan took a step forward, you instinctively stepped back, forgetting about the table behind you. Your hips brushed against it gently, causing a small jolt. Logan had intended to reach for the glass of your beverage, but his proximity brought him uncomfortably close.
With a casual yet deliberate movement, Logan took the glass from behind you, his body nearly brushing against yours. He lifted the glass in front of you, tilting his head slightly with a smirk. “Thanks, Peach,” he said, his voice low and warm.
Without breaking eye contact, he chugged down the drink, his gaze locked onto yours. The act was both confident and intimate, making the moment feel charged with unspoken tension. The shared space between you seemed to crackle with a newfound energy as you both stood there, the air thick with the lingering effects of the brief but intense connection.
You cleared your throat, feeling a flush of heat spread across your cheeks as you managed to wiggle your way out from the proximity of Logan. You made your way toward the washing machine, watching it work through the glass as your laundry tumbled inside.
“Tell me, Peach,” Logan’s voice came from behind, smooth and deliberate. “Is your taste as good as this peach soda?”
Your breath hitched, and your mind raced. Am I hearing this right? Is this a dream? You thought, trying to process his words. Despite the possibility of it being a dream, you couldn't bring yourself to face him. Instead, you leaned against the washing machine, the rhythmic vibrations grounding you.
“Um—W-what do you mean, s-sir?” you managed to stammer, your voice barely more than a whisper.
You could feel Logan’s presence closing in behind you, the air growing warmer and thicker as he approached. The vibrations from the washing machine seemed to pulse more intensely against your torso, amplifying the sensation of his proximity. Each step he took made your heartbeat quicken, your senses acutely aware of the space between you shrinking.
Logan’s shadow fell over you, and you could almost feel the heat radiating from his body. His breath, though not yet touching your skin, was close enough that you could sense its warmth. 
“You wanna know what ‘m thinking, Peach?” He mumbles behind your ear. You wished he didn’t hear your shuddered breath and the swallowed saliva down your throat from the way he makes you nervous.
“I don’t think so, Mister Howlett.” you managed to reply, your voice trembling slightly as you tried to maintain your composure.
“Naw, why? Afraid you might like it?” You could feel the smirk slowly forming in his face.
“I-”
“I’m thinking of bending you against this washing machine, lift up your very short sundress and get on my knees. Slowly taking my time smelling that scent… of arousal from your pussy, where I know, she’s dying to be touched, to be fingered, to be fucked, by me.” You gasp once you feel the bulge from his rough jeans, teasingly grinding against your ass earning a chuckle from him as he continues,
“Oh yes I know, Peach. I know how much you want to feel this cock inside you. Should’ve known better to close your blinds at night when your delicate… fingers desperately trying to reach that high, because I’m always watching you, Peach. Even though you’re such a pain in the ass with that, Peach flavored pie, and that fucking beautiful smile. I wanna turn those smiles into tears… Tears of pleasure from me, fucking this cunt.” You gasped loudly as Logan roughly thrust his bulge against your ass, hitting you against the washing machine.
“L-Logan,” you stammered, your voice trembling with a mix of nervousness and anticipation.
“Call me, Sir,” Logan’s tone was laced with full authority, each word deliberate and commanding. You choked back a swallow before you corrected yourself.
"Sir, I don't know what you're talking about." You stood on your ground.
"Yeah? Let me remind you how it feels then, this time, with me." Logan grunted in your ears before you felt a rush of cold air blowing against your damped panties resulted from Logan lifting your skirt up. You whimpered once you feel his fingers grazing against your soaking wet cunt, earning a mocking tut from Logan.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk... Your cunt says otherwise, Peach." He rubs you through the panties before ripping them off of you, the sound piercing through the room.
Logan crouched on his knees, proving his promise to you the one where he'd like to take his time smelling you from down your legs up to your thighs, dragging his warm tongue on your delicate skin upwards earning a moan from you. Logan hummed once he connected his lips to your glistening pussy lips, his tongue swirling and lapping your gushing juices.
You feel like god had just granted you your wishes into doing this sinful things. You finally can experience the feeling of his tongue against your throbbing cunt that keeps on gushing. Logan moaned, while he laps your juices up like a dog. "You taste just as I imagined, peach-flavored cunt." He murmured against your pussy.
A rosy hue crept across your cheeks hearing his statement. "Come on, Peach. Gimme more." Logan breathed out, his two hands that were gripping your thighs pushed and lifted you upward attempting you to bend over more over the top of the washing machine. Spreading your legs wide, you moaned out loud once you feel his tongue crazily lap your pussy like a dog in thirst.
"S-sir.." You squeaked, feeling yourself close.
"Hmm, yeah, give it to me, Peach." Logan grunted, burying his face even more.
"Ngh, I'm gonna-" Before you could finish that sentence, you froze as you heard your dad's voice calls out to you.
"Buttercup! I'm home, have you managed with the laundry yet?" He hollers from the other room. You gasped while Logan didn't even budge, he kept resuming his action.
"Y-yes, Dad! Everything's good now!" You holler back, holding yourself back from moaning.
"Do you need any help, darling?" You heard the sound of footstep, your eyes widened and hurriedly answer, "No- No, Dad! Everything's good, I'll be coming in a second." Logan smirked.
"Okay darling, I'm gonna get some rest." Your dad holler back as his footsteps fading away. You sighed in relief before you gasped when you feel Logan entering two fingers inside your cunt.
"What a naughty little girl, she needs to make herself cum before she gets back to being the dotting daughter huh?" You whimper to his words.
"Please, sir. Don't stop, it feels so good.."
"Yeah? Wait till you feel my cock." Logan vowed. He curled his fingers inside you, effortlessly flicking your g-spot before he stood back up on his feet, leaning against your back. He gently guide you to stand on your feet even though it's impossible for you as you're still in daze from his fingers still working their magic.
Logan whispered all kinds of filthy things in your head to get you to reach your high. "Is this just like what you imagined, peach?" — "Feels so good yeah?" — "Yes it does. Are you gonna cum for me?" — "Yeah come on, almost there, I know," — "Make a mess on my fingers, baby."
As you choked a loud moan, Logan's other hand went to silenced you while you came gushing down on his fingers. Your whole body shook while Logan holds you in place as you're coming down your high.
"There you go, good girl." You panted once you've gained your strength to stand on your own, you turned around and to find him smirking, a notable wet droplet covered some parts of his jeans as you now just learned, that you squirted on him a little.
He brought his fingers up to his mouth, his gaze never leaving yours as he tasted what's remained of you on his fingers.
"Hmm, taste just like a peach."
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let me know if you want me to start the journey for Logan & Peach 😉
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innerfare · 1 month ago
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You’re Jealous
 Summary: You get jealous of someone else in his life.
Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Ace, Sabo, Law, and Kid
Genre: Slight Angst // Fluff
CW: None // SFW
——— 
Luffy:
He never told you Boa Hancock was in love with him, and when you find out, you have to remove yourself from the situation before you have an emotional outburst and start something with the Pirate Empress. The problem is, you don’t even know which emotion will spill out of you. Finding out the world’s most beautiful woman, and a powerful Warlord, no less, is desperate to marry Luffy is a whirlwind, to say the least. Luffy can seem clueless at times, but his emotional intelligence is through the roof, and he picks up on what has you upset almost straight away. He knows to give you some space, and when he senses you’re ready, he approaches you with a handful of wildflowers he picked. He doesn’t really say much, just pulls you into a hug, presses a few kisses into your cheek and temple, and says in your ear, “you’re my girl.” 
Zoro:
He didn’t mention Perona was also at Mihawk’s castle for those two years until a few months after the crew gets together. He tells a story that features her, and you realize there was a woman keeping him company. Your heart drops into your stomach. Zoro insists he didn’t mention her because he didn’t think she was relevant; the only thing Perona did those two years was annoy him. He’s actually the one who won’t let it go, not you (even though you are pretty jealous). Whereas you’d prefer not to talk about it, Zoro is wracked with guilt because he’d never considered the whole thing in a relationship context. Him fretting constantly over it actually heals your jealousy because you realize you’ve never seen him panic over the prospect of hurting anyone else’s feelings. 
Sanji:
Even with a third eye, Pudding is stunning. And Sanji almost married her. It was before you two were together, but listening to the stories from Whole Cake, hearing how close he came to marrying another woman, knowing she really did fall in love with his kind heart and wonderful cooking, turns you into a little green monster. You know you shouldn’t feel jealous of a woman you’ve never met before, a woman Sanji chose not to marry, but you can’t help it. Sanji is completely shocked that you would feel jealous over his relationship (if it could even be called that) with Pudding, though after thinking about it some more, he does realize why you might be jealous that he had a fiancé. His solution is to bring you a bouquet of roses and walk you through the dark details of his life, telling you things he’s never outright told anyone, so you understand the special place you have in his life. 
Ace:
He collects people without trying, and often times, without realizing, either. Ace thinks he’s just making friends, but you see the way the women he laughs and shares drinks with are drawn to him like plants to the sun. He promises them freedom and adventure (and he has a very nice laugh), and you can see how it excites them. You don’t really mind it, knowing Ace well enough to see the way he holds those women at arm’s length, even if he seems close with them (such is the magic of Fire First Ace). But Yamato makes you jealous. It’s not hearing the way they laughed together but hearing the way they fought that gets to you. You know how Ace lives to fight and even just roughhouse, you know how he’s a rough and tumble guy, and you worry you’re not tough enough. Should you be punching his arm when he makes a joke? Should you be trying to trip him out on deck? What should you be doing? When you finally come clean with Ace about what’s been bothering you, he actually laughs. “If I wanted to be with someone who gives me hell, I’d be sleeping in Marco’s cabin every night. Besides,” he says, scooping you up in his arms, “I like being able to manhandle you.” 
Sabo:
Sabo is a flirt, and you knew that going into your relationship. It actually doesn’t bother you when he flashes that charming smile of his at someone else or swoops in to save a damsel in distress (a speciality of his) and even serves to entertain, especially on the rare occasions his flirtations are rebuked. What does bother you, though, is his tight relationship with Koala. You know it’s ridiculous to be envious, you know Koala would sooner saw off her arm than kiss the man she considers her irksome big brother, but they’ve known each other since they were little kids, and Koala has been through so much with Sabo that the pair have such a close bond. It’s not the angry kind of jealousy that bubbles up in you when Koala mentions something about Sabo’s past that she assumes you know but you don’t, just the sad kind that you try to keep to yourself. Surprisingly, Sabo notices, though you don’t realize until he hugs you from behind and mumbles in your ear that he’s glad you’re the only one who knows he has a skincare routine, his silly words diffusing your mood and acting as the exact affirmation you needed. If it’s not enough, though, he’ll happily prove his loyalty to you by challenging Koala to a karate match, though.  
Law:
Dr. Law and Dr. Robin sure do get along well- so well, in fact, you can’t help but wonder if they are better suited to each other than you and him. Even if they didn’t have such good chemistry, it would be impossible not to feel a touch of jealousy toward the archeologist. She’s intelligent, beautiful, fiercely loyal, a member of the Straw Hats, and has an impressive bounty that she earned even before she became a pirate. Needless to say, you find yourself brooding when the Robin brings him a beer and sits down beside him to discuss the immune systems of fishmen, a topic both are rather interested in. Of course, you’re interested in that, too, thus the reason Law realizes something is wrong when you don’t participate in the conversation. He ends up excusing the two of you and taking you to bed, worrying you had too much to drink, the thought you may be jealous never once occurring to him. You end up not saying anything (many thing in your relationship with Law being unspoken) and just sleeping it off, the fact that he excused the two of you proof enough of his loyalty. 
Kid:
He doesn’t ever talk about his first love, Victoria. In fact, you didn’t even know she existed until Killer got drunk one night and began speaking of his dearly departed. What he didn’t mention was that Kid, too, had been in love with her. It only comes up the next night when you mention it to Wire, who mentions it was the death of his first love, Victoria, that put Kid on the war path and united the first four members of the Kid Pirates. Realizing Wire messed up, Heat chimes in to say, “he’d do the same for you.” But you’re not convinced, mainly because Kid never told you any of this. It tears you apart, leaves you tossing and turning for nights on end, until you finally burst into Kid’s workshop one night ranting about how he doesn’t trust you and holds you at arm’s length. “Heat says you’d do the same for me, but-” Kid cuts you off and says, “I wouldn’t do the same, I’d do worse. Much, much worse.” And from the wicked gleam in his eye, you’re inclined to believe him. 
———
Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!
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smutoperator · 4 months ago
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Dear Priest
Naoi Rei x Male Reader
Tags: balcony sex, choking, creampie, demons, facefucking, footjob, mating press, older man, peeing, priest, possession, (lots of) pussy fingering, rocking the bed, sexorcism, squirting, taboo, titfucking, vibrator
Word count: 3701.
"Dear priest, I have a confession to make. I'm so horny today, I can't even stand straight." These were the first words you heard in the confessional that morning. "Go on," you replied, a little confused. "I think I need an exorcism; my legs are shaking, and I think a demon possessed me," the person said.
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You opened the door of the confessional, and a cute Japanese girl appeared. Her situation looked quite bad; she trembled in front of you before unleashing an attack in a demonic voice: "I need sex," she said, in a very altered voice.
Her possession looked quite bad. You felt like you couldn't fix her problem. She needed a special treatment. "I'm going to take you home and expel that demon out of you," you told her. "PLEASE!" she screamed.
You took Rei into your car and drove fast into your home. The demon inside of her made her sweat and squirt all over the seat of your car. You had never seen a case like that before and knew you had a tough demon to fight. 
"Don't touch me," Rei said as you two got to your home. "I'll need to, otherwise the demon won't get out. Open your legs, please," you told her. Rei did so. You touched her wonderful thighs and gave them a slap. "Don't hurt me," she reacted. You didn't listen, touching her panties, which were extremely warm and wet, and finally, her big tits, before placing your thumb in her mouth. You could feel her body heat was truly extreme. "It looks like we'll have to take those clothes off," you told her.
You turned the water in your bathtub on, preparing it as Rei took her robe off. Her tall body, sexy thighs, and huge tits were already a massive turn-on. Rei started taking her bra off, giving you the perfect view of her boobs. Next, she turned around and took her panties off, showing you her perfect ass and sexy, meaty Japanese pussy before getting in the tub.
"God bless you," you said, kissing Rei's beautiful feet a few times. Adding a solution to the tub, you tried to neutralize the demon inside of her. Rei seemed to feel better, as things were looking more stable inside her body. You massaged her shoulders, trying to get her more comfortable. Rei tried to relax, but as you started touching her big tits, from time to time, the devil inside her still made her shake.
"Put your tongue out," you ordered to her, stretching her mouth with your finges as you used your holy spit to counter the demons coming out of it. You took your pants off and pissed on the tub. "What are you doing?" Rei asked. "Chill out; my holy piss added to this solution will make it easier to take that demon out," you told her.
After dumping nearly a half-liter of piss into the tub, you asked Rei to get out and wash herself. Rei agreed, taking the towel and going to the bathroom. She looked in the mirror, and her now naked body was still warm. "You're such a fucking whore," the voice coming out of her mouth said. It was the horny devil. "You need to be disciplined for your naughty thoughts; that priest is going to use you like the slut you are," the demon kept whispering in her ear.
Rei returned to your living room, looking at you with bloody eyes. You touched her body and whispered in her ear. "Get out, devil," you said. Next, you touched and sucked her boobs. Your kisses felt like they were trapping the demon further inside her instead of helping. But maybe that's what you intended. You pulled your cock out and slapped it on Rei's feet, getting hard immediately. "Looks like that demon is helping me," you poked her.
Rei reached and started using her feet to please your cock. Her toes touching your shaft were a huge turn-on for her. Rei played with your cock, having fun as she used her feet to massage it and admired your growing throbbing tip.You just watched, letting the possessed girl enjoy herself as your cock kept growing bigger and bigger.
You took your shirt off, feeling Rei was transferring her body's heat into yours, taking control as you moved her feet around your shaft. You licked her toes, tasting your own cock from it as she had just rubbed them on it, gifting her mouth your cock as you started fucking her face. "Get out, you fucking demon," you said as you finished the initial facefucking, slapping her tits shortly after.
More facefucks followed. The demon was now completely trapped inside Rei's sexy body, as you pushed it back inside with your massive shaft reaching all the way down her throat. "Look at you, such a cute slut," you tell her, slapping her face. 
You choke Rei and push her towards one of the chairs in your living room. She tries to fight back, but you show her who is in control. "Do it as I tell you; slide down," you say. Rei lies her head on the bottom chair and stretches her tall body up to the couch. You spread your legs between the chairs and feed her cock, enjoying filling that cute Japanese face at will and slapping it all over her face.
"Don't close your legs; I'm shutting your mouth so the demon gets expelled through your pussy," you say to her. You cover Rei's mouth with your balls, getting the perfect view of her body as you sit on top of her like a king on his throne. You grab Rei's hands and move them so she can jerk your cock off. "Squeeze it, squeeze it," you order as you use Rei's incessant honrniess to your own pleasure.
Rei twists your cock between her soft hands, licking your balls under your body. You pushed her lower body in your direction. An evil energy seemed to be heating up under your body as the demons orbiting around Rei's body got back inside her. You ducked your body down and started eating her pussy, which looked extremely wild with so many evil spirits inside. A few licks, and Rei was already squirting all over your face.
"That's truly a satanic pussy," you said as you kissed it. "Oh, fuckkk," Rei moaned as you started massaging her cunt. "The harder you squirt, the more the demons will come out," you told her.
Rei made sure to squirt as hard as she could, as the massages in her pussy had her body contorting. Quickly, you stuck multiple fingers inside it. "Ahhhhhhh, please, don't hurt me," Rei screamed as your hands seemed to act like another devil, making her even hornier and sensible. She clinged to your cock, trying to cope with the intensity of your finger as she coated her juices all over your living room's floor.
Rei wanted to take a break, but you were having none of it. "Come here, you won't leave until I finish the job," you told her, grabbing the Japanese cutie but her massive honkers. You kissed her as one of your hands touched her tits and the other one fingered her already extremely wet pussy. "Ohhhh, please, make my pussy cum," she said. "Don't talk, bitch, just follow my orders; when I fuck you, you must keep your mouth shut," you say to her almost as if the demon had also possessed you.
You cover Rei's mouth, muffling her moans as you keep touching her pussy harder and harder, fisting your whole hands inside it and then slapping it. Rei feels like a sick girl with a massive fever, as you take advantage of her weakness to play with her tits, slapping your cock between them before you start titfucking those massive melons, something you wanted to do the moment you saw them for the first time. You treat Rei's big tits like your personal toy, sliding your cock multiple times between them before you give it for her to get fed like a good girl.
"Ohhh fuck, you suck my cock so good, such a perfect, devilish slut," you say to her as Rei bobs her head all over your big dick. "Want to take it deeper? Then come here," you say, putting Rei to your side and diving her head against your shaft all the way down. After all, if there is one thing Rei loves is to dive,.
As soon as Rei gags on your cock, you slap her face with it. Rei quickly gets back on it, giving you a very sloppy and sexy blowjob. "Good girl, or should I say, evil slut?" you tell her. When Rei dives back, you relentlessly fuck her face, slapping her tits every time she gags, as you pound her throat harder and harder each time, but Rei also seems to get stronger, adjusting to your hard thrusts and getting very sloppy as she engulfs your cock balls deep in her mouth.
"That took quite long this time," you praise her after Rei takes a couple minutes to gag following a hard facefucking. "Are you enjoying yourself?" you ask her as Rei gives you a big smile. "Yes, father," she replies. "Tell me what you are," you ask her. "I AM YOUR WHORE," Rei screams.
"Good girl," you kiss Rei and put her on your lap, now massaging her ass and giving her cute butt some spankings that make her moan, wrapping your arms around her as you poke your finger inside her asshole. "Fuckkk," Rei says as you toy with her butthole, eating it out for a couple minutes before getting her back on her feet, but keeping the massage on her fuckholes going while choking her.
Rei can't stop moaning as she struggles to stay on her feet. You grope her tits and stimulate her in every way possible, kissing her neck as you put your fingers back in her cunt and your throbbing cock hits her navel. You had waited long enough, lifting Rei's tall body with ease and pushing her close to you as you slid your big cock in her wet pussy.
Rei laughs as she bounces on your cock, you two having a very intimate moment as she gets carry-fucked. "Oh my God," Rei moans, trying not to fall down as you hold her with all your forces, using her as your perfect and very warm cocksleeve. Without ever pulling out, you push Rei's body towards your couch and start pounding her.
"Oh fuck," Rei says as your move takes her by surprise. And fuck indeed is what you're going to do to her starting now, using Rei's meaty Japanese pussy to your cock pleasure as you take deep thrusts inside it. Rei spreads her legs as you tap her vaginal entance. "That's a good girl," you say, eating her out as she looks hornier than ever. 
More hard fucking ensues as Rei is completely pinned into the couch, her legs up in the air as your cock is bulging hard under her as you stretched her pussy out. It might be a vanilla missionary position, but you know how to fuck and please her. Rei starts wondering if you're really a priest, as you seem to have done it multiple times, fucking her like many guys before you couldn't. 
"AH, AH, AH," Rei moans faster than she raps. You're truly in love with this possessed Japanese slut. A cute girl with long legs, big tits, and a naughty devil inside her seems like a gift from God, or Satan, if you know what I mean. 
Rei prays to God in front of you, but as your cock slaps her pussy and lands deep into her cervix, it feels more and more like her prayers are being answered by the devil. You put a fist in her mouth, making sure her possession lasts for long, shutting her holes down in every possible way. "OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD," Rei screams as your hands push the demons back in her pussy and you finish trapping them with your spit.
"OH FUCK," Rei screams as you get back in her pussy, her legs now fully spread as she invites your cock to pound her hard and fast, her big tits bounce like crazy at each thrust, with you making sure to reach all the way down the trenches of her devilish cunt. "Your hands are so evil, but they make me feel so good," Rei says as they finger her pussy before you use them to slap her thicc thighs once again and make her scream.
"OHHHHHHHH," Rei screams as you use her to fulfill one of your most perverted fantasies. Fucking a Japanese girl on a mating press as if you were in a real-life hentai. Her pussy gets stretched out to the fullest as you attack it extremely deep. She yells every time you hit her cervix, turning her into a fleshlight. 
You choke Rei and fuck her like an animal, groaning as her pussy gets attacked, and you shove the demons even deeper in her body, making sure they stay there as you fuck her face harder than ever as soon as you pull out of her pussy, then slap your cock in her cute face, repeating the process multiple times until you turn her face into a mess full of spit and her body into a nest of horny demons.
"You seem hornier than ever," you say as you push Rei's body sideways in the couch and give her a rough but very passionate spooning fuck. She smiles, enjoying the way you use her pussy. Your cock is truly making her ascend to heaven, or, depending on the perspective, descend to hell.
You guide Rei into your bed, her getting on all fours as soon as she is on top of it. You fuck her from behind, much to her excitement. "YESSSS, YESSSSSS," she says with a big smile on her face as you get on top of her and make her cheeks clap before fucking her sideways while groping her big tits. "YOU FUCK ME SO GOOD," she moans as you wrap your hands all over her body. It seems like you are the horny demon now, and who can blame you? No one can resist a tall, thicc, cute, and sexy Japanese girl with big tits like her.
Rei gets fucked in every position in your bed as if she were your bride on a honeymoon, looking at you with naughty eyes and never wishing to leave that bedroom. Now you two are like two sinners possessed by the devils of hot, steamy sex, fucking each other in the most baby-making way possible. Rei gets pounded, groped, choked, and fucked nonstop and loves every second of it. It truly makes a difference having sex with a much older and mature man, it turns out.
Rei dives balls deep into your cock before you use that lube from her saliva to bang her tits once again. "I have a job to finish; get it as hard as possible," you suddenly remember, after many minutes's lost into the lust of Rei's hot, young, sexy body. "We have to go outside," you tell her. "That demon is not gonna leave by itself," you continue.
You take Rei to the balcony of your apartment. "What a view. Such a nice place you have, in the most expensive district in Seoul. Guess you didn't take any vows of poverty," she says. "The only vow I took was to use the horny pussies that come at me until I cum," you reply. 
You lift Rei's legs and fuck her at the balcony, her clinging onto every support as you pound her while she looks at the view from such a big height. You pull her hair and clap her cheeks, trying to instill fear in her as you pound her. "FUCK, YES, YES, YES," she moans as you stretch her mouth out. "GET OUT, YOU FUCKING DEMON," you scream as you continue the pounding and slap her ass.
"Don't you fucking move," you order to Rei, bringing a vibrator to put in her pussy while she is pinned to the edge of the balcony. Rei starts to squirt, her right leg sitting on the top of the balcony as you twist the dildo inside her pussy, feeling as if you pushed too many demons out and needed to bring them back. After all, the hornier she gets, the better.
You fuck Rei with the vibrator, leading to her nearly losing her balance. But she loves it, giving you a sexy smile as you double-stuff her, the vibrator in her pussy, your fingers in her asshole. She cums all over the toy; even with one of her legs stuck at top of the balcony, she no longer fears anything. 
You give the vibrator for Rei to taste, using it on her mouth as she licks it as if it were your real cock. "You're so kind, feeding your little whore," she says. "Feeding? No, I am just teasing; this is what I'm gonna feed you," you tell her. "Now bend over," you say, pushing your cock back in her pussy as you hold her body pinned against the balcony. Rei laughs as you grope her bouncy big tits. If only priests could marry, because at this point she truly wants you to make her your wife.
Rei drops back on her knees as you fuck her face hard with her head hitting against the glass on the balcony. Gagging and choking all over that cock and making a sloppy mess, Rei continues to laugh, and you continue to fuck her little Japanese whore face until you finally decide it's time to finally take the demons out.
"Sit on my dick," you tell her as you sit on the chair, your throbbing pole pointing hard and waiting for her meaty pussy. Rei quickly follows, riding it as you grab her ass and grope and suck her tits. She rides it quite well; it seems like her experienced groupmates have taught her really well, especially Wonyoung. Rei moves on your cock with great pace, even better after you slap her ass, getting you closer and closer to unleash your holy cum as she tilts sideways and puts you on the edge with her riding.
You climb out of the chair and fuck Rei against the balcony, enjoying the danger as just a glass wall separates the Japanese slut from falling down. She kisses you, enjoying the pounding as she can only think of her dear priest. "Shhhh, don't let the neighbors hear you," you tell her. But Rei doesn't care; she just wants you to fuck her for the rest of her life. 
"OH MY... GODDDDDDDDD," Rei screams as she looks at the beautiful view from the sunset, her head sticking out of the balcony as she gets pounded, her tits hitting the glass and making her even hornier. The night is approaching, and she ponders if the demons inside her will get even hornier, as she couldn't even sleep the day before with them morphing into crazy horny creatures that took full control of her body once the sun goes down.
Rei laughs as you keep fucking her like a relentless machine. You're a hard man to please, but Rei seems to be doing her best efforts. But nearly 40 minutes, and you haven't shown any signs of slowing down. Rei starts to feel like you might be running out of time to exorcise the sex demons inside of her.
"OH, PLEASE USE MY PUSSY TO MAKE YOUR COCK FEEL GOOD, YESSSSS, AHHHHHHH," Rei moans as you keep the pace, fucking her from behind nonstop and making her big tits bounce hard and grabbing her hair. "YES, YES, YES, DON'T STOP," she screams. And indeed, you don't seem to plan to stop; after all, she is so cute and fuckable.
"I need your fucking cum, please," Rei begs. Little did she know you had already planned everything. As the sun starts to leave the view and the dark creatures of the night start to rise, you fill her pussy up. Rei is relieved. Suddenly, it feels like all the demons in her body are gone. She spreads her legs, letting you tuck the semen on the edges of her pussy all the way down, as you then take a bit of it and use it to draw a cross in her forehead. "May the holy cum take all the demons out of you," you say, as Rei is suddenly no longer horny.
"My job here is done; now get the fuck out," you rudely say to her. Rei wants to thank you, but in the end, sex is just a profession for you. Get pleased, and it's enough. New girls come to you every day after all.
On the next day, Rei tells her inner circle of friends about her experience with you. They are truly baffled, but very curious. "You really fucked a priest?" Stayc J asks her. "Well, yeah," Rei replies. Later, she returns to your church but can't find you, leading her to ask one of the nuns.
"The priest is busy performing a baptism," the nun tells Rei. As she's always been a curious girl, she finds the place where the baptism is taking place. She just didn't know you were baptizing a pretty young girl's forehead full of your cum.
It was Rei's best friend, J.
Rei looks at the agenda next to her, the page with the bookmark being the one from yesterday and today. She sees her name as the last girl from yesterday on the priest's agenda, and then a list of many familiar names scheduled for today with a note next to them.
J: facial Joy: anal Wonyoung: creampie Liz: passionate sex Gaeul: domination Yujin: thighjob/anal
"Oh my God, I think I spread the horny demon into my friends," Rei says.
But did she really?
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