#again never met anyone w/ it irl

[nyxi-pixie]

the most important thing abt noah coming out is that the people going 'hehe how does our fav strAIGHT frat boy play that fucking gayass so well??😱😱' had to stfu😁👍

[g0thsoojin]

🕷️🕸️

[odysseys-blood]

im always wondering abt it and i feel kinda lonely on it cause i have so few black transmasc mutuals on here but how do yall fee abt the word stud? ik i get called one often bc of how i look and dress but ive always been like. wondering if i should turn down that label more or less than i do bc knowing the history of it i dont think it fits me 100% bc im not a lesbian and i feel like the word still retains a connection to femininity and sapphics that i dont rly want for myself but also ik some ppl see stud as its own identity on its own so i just. idk

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐒 !! ❞

❝ PROF. GETO IS SO HOT AND NOW HE’S YOUR THESIS ADVISOR !! ❞

✧ pairing: professor!geto x f!reader (yuta x f!reader) (part six of the prof geto series)

✧ summary: just when you had moved on, suguru is back in your life as your thesis advisor, and what choice do you have but to deal -- deal with lingering feelings from your breakup, but also yuta's. and through this, you both find out what you all owe to each other.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut , fluff, but also angst depictions of student/teacher relationship (only ok in fiction not irl!!!), reader is a grad student, but age is vague, post breakup, dealing with exes, insecurity, semi-exhibitionism, desk sex, fingering (f! receiving), handjob (m! receiving), oral (f! + m! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, multiple orgasms, amateur's take on moral philsophy and ethics, fanart by @ / kyrraen (pls go follow them, they are so talented)

✧ w/c: 25,305 | part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

Suguru never had believed in fate before — before he met you. 

And now it seemed fate had its own plans for the both of you — pulling you together, even when he had tried his best to push the two of you apart. Try he had, and in the end, you both ended up back where you had started — seated across from each other with a pile of papers littered with red pen. 

Except now he himself had found himself littered with you — your tie pin you had given him, the way his fingers wanted to smooth your brow with a kiss as it furrowed while you flipped through your proposal, and how his heart felt whole from the moment you walked in the room. And he knew he would be littered with your marks all his life, more permanent than ink — and he would never be able rid himself of them. 

Or of you. 

When Yaga had come to him with the news, it was already too much to handle. He was being re-assigned to Tokyo to handle duties for both schools for a time — until someone stepped up to handle Kyoto. Yaga didn’t trust anyone else — and since Suguru had worked at Tokyo longer, it made sense to have him go back. 

But then the question of you — the reminder came on the form of your email during their meeting — and you came into his world again the same way you did before — an email for a meeting. But it wasn’t for him. 

Not yet at least. 

It was hard to know what to do, or what you would want. Yaga could have you re-assigned, but the thesis you were working on was in Suguru’s specialty and he knew half the reason you had asked Yaga was to have a department head listed on your thesis. And to rob you of that wasn’t a choice he wanted to make for you. 

He’s done enough of that to you. And he had done it for your future — and he would do this for your future, if you wanted him to. 

You’re speechless when he breaks the news to you — as he expected you would be. But his surprise comes when you reply — he expected anger, frustration, a straight out refusal to work with him — but he did not get any of those — he only got quiet acceptance. 

“Fine, should we stick to the same schedule that Yaga and I agreed to?” And Suguru takes a minute, leaning back in his chair, “what?” 

“I just…I didn’t expect you to accept so readily,” he replies softly, choosing his words carefully, “in my email, I said you could take time to think about it or we could procure a different advisor—“ 

“Professor,” the word sticks in his chest like a right dagger that barely misses his heart, “out of everyone who works in this department I know you are the only one who is capable of pushing me to be my best, even when I don’t ask for it,” you add under your breath, “especially when I don’t ask for it,” 

A hollow chuckle is stuck in his throat, “If you’re sure, it’s your choice,” and he’s looking for a few notes and edits he had written out for you for the schedule you sent along previously. 

“It is my choice,” you echo, your eyes meet his, as he looks up from the papers strewn about the desk, “and I choose this,” and he knows all too well what you mean by your deliberate choice of words— and he did love you for your cutting tongue. 

Even when it was used against him. 

“If you do, then can you choose to come to my old office?” And you’re blinking, brow furrowing — and his cheeks burn, “I left your schedule there — I had a few notes regarding my own schedule,” 

You raise an eyebrow, a flicker of a smart remark on the tip of your tongue that you seemingly swallow, as you gather the proposal into your bag, “let’s go,”

The walk over is in relative silence, the campus mostly quiet with the impending end of the semester at bay — as he forces his gaze forward, but that doesn’t stop his traitorous eyes from sneaking glances all the same. Why was it that he was a lighthouse and his eyes were spotlights only made to find your ship on the dark waves of the sea. 

And you stop in your tracks, a glance at your face doesn’t give him the answer — but another face does. 

“Yuta?” And he’s holding your lunch bag — the same one you insisted on taking with you, refusing to spend more money on the overpriced lunch on campus. And the realization hits him all at once, and he’s suddenly toppling headfirst into the waves. 

“You forgot your lunch,” Yuta offers an awkward smile — and Suguru’s eyes find your face again, right before he goes under — the same soft look you gave him. 

Used to give him. 

And he lets the water overtake him. 

~~~

“You forgot your lunch,”

And you never thought a rushed morning would lead to the most awkward moment of your life. Yuta glances between you and Suguru, as you step forward to take your lunch from his hand, your fingers intertwining with his, as if to ground yourself. 

“Yuta, this is Professor Geto, he taught one of the classes I took and he’s taking over as my thesis advisor,” and you’re only lucky Suguru is able to tuck away emotions so easily, a polite smile on his lips as he offers his hand to Yuta, “this is Yuta, my boyfriend,” 

You can’t meet Suguru’s gaze as you say it — but you wonder what you would find — hurt, anger, or nothing at all? And you couldn’t figure out which would hurt the most. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” Suguru says, before shaking his hand, and Yuta nods. 

“Likewise,” and Suguru turns to you, hands slipping into his pockets, while yours remained laced with Yuta’s — but how long ago would it had been intertwined in his? “On second thought, I’ll email you my edits to your thesis schedule, I’ll leave you both to the rest of your day,” he gives a stiff smile, before heading on his way. 

And he knew this was a future of his own making — the consequences of his own actions. 

He gives a bitter chuckle. Consequentialism — the morality is centered around creating the right consequences — and wasn’t it right? Right for you to be happy with someone your age? Right to be with someone who you can hold their hand and be with? Right to be with someone who can give you everything and anything you want? 

“I understand the intention of consequentialism, but it just feels so pointless,” you had said while the two of you sat watching TV on the couch, your legs thrown over his lap, the comfortable warmth of your head resting on his shoulder. 

“That’s not where I thought your mind was,” Suguru had chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead, but still he indulged, “the point is to get as much good as possible out of a decision correct? The most happiness?” 

Your brow remained furrowed, “But the problem is the cost of it — it can come at the cost of your own happiness if it’s creating the right consequences,” 

“That’s more utilitarianism—“ and you shrug. 

“I understand it’s more complicated, but I don’t see the value in making decisions like that — doesn’t it defeat the purpose because you’re doing it for the outcome — without considering your feelings or the others? You’re nothing more than a happiness pump,” 

And as he sneaks a glance back, watching you and Yuta stand there still, fingers still intertwined, his fingers squeeze the handle of his bag, is that why it feels so wrong? 

He arrived back at his office, fingers turning the knob and finding an empty tomb — the walls stripped down to the bare, a thick layer of dust that clung to the surfaces, the couch he had in the corner of the room likely relocated to another office — that he thought he had finally left behind. But here he was again — right back where he started. 

He dragged his finger through the dust on his desk. Was he nothing more than a happiness pump? Giving himself pain for the sake of others’ happiness — and was the outcome worth it? But he’s swallowing down his pain — a bitter consequence he had to take — because he knew — he would take any pain, if it meant you were happy. 

And you were. 

Right? 

~~~

Yuta knew — he did even before he had started to date you. Or rather, he had suspected. But now he knew.  

The first time he saw the two of you bump into each other, he knew because of the way Geto looked at you — and even the way you looked at him — the hurt flickering in your gaze, even when you refused to look at him. 

Professor Geto has been much more than a professor to you — he was your boyfriend, the same one Yuta had envied for so many months. Only for him to be back in your life again. And he felt like he was right back to where he had started in your life again — a friend. 

And there wasn’t a thing wrong with being your friend — but now that he was more than one, he knew he only wanted even more of you — and to give more of himself. If you would let him. 

But when your fingers curled around his, ‘boyfriend’ slipping from your lips, assuaged his anxiety for a moment, but as he watched your eyes find the back of Geto’s head after he left, it all came back. 

Your fingers squeeze his, “Thank you for bringing my lunch, Yu,” and it brings him back to the moment, and your face is so readable in this moment — as if to make up for the times he couldn’t make sense of you — searching for an indication that he knew, an implication of his emotions, a question unspoken to ask if he knew. 

And he did. 

“Of course, baby,” he presses a kiss to your forehead, and he wants to tell you he does, wants to ask you why you hid it, why you felt you couldn’t be honest, and why you look like you’re still as heartbroken as the day he ran into you outside this building, “I have to go, but I’ll see you later,” but he doesn’t ask. 

“Yuta—“ but he’s only pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, fingers cupping his cheek. 

“I love you,” and your lips curl into a small smile. 

“I love you too,” and it was enough, he thought, as his fingers parted from yours, and he turned to leave. 

It was enough, for now.  

~~~

How do you tell someone something they already know? You snuck glances at your own boyfriend after dinner, as the two of you settled in to watch something to unwind. The day had gone by as expected, but the crawling anxiety only grew as more time passed, the words wanting nothing more than to leave your mouth. 

Why was it you when you had so much to say you couldn’t say it? And now when you had to explain, no words could leave your lips? 

God, how the fuck did you catch yourself in this mess? Your ex as your thesis advisor — was this karma for being unethical? A cruel consequence of the choices you made? Maybe fate? No, it wasn’t fate. Things were better without Suguru in your life, simpler and easier. And you were happy — but now this, this just had the potential to ruin everything. 

But only if you let it. 

And the longer you went without discussing this, the more damage it would be. It was a secret you had chosen to keep — you didn’t think it was pertinent, especially with Suguru in Kyoto. It was a detail you could spare, at least until after you graduated, 

But now it couldn’t wait. 

It was a piano hanging by a string that’s already snapped and it was on its last fibers, swinging back and forth, waiting to see whether you would push Yuta and yourself out of the way — or whether one or both of you would get crushed in the process. 

The walk back to your apartment is an exercise in coping mechanisms to prevent panic or anxiety from settling fully into your skin, holding the string together with your arms seemingly, ready for it to tear you apart. 

But it doesn’t. 

“I have to talk to you,” you say once you and Yuta are sitting on the couch, one leg tucked under the other to prevent you from shaking it, or running away for that matter, “it’s nothing bad — well, I mean it’s not—“ you cut yourself off, shaking your head, “just know I love you, and that hasn’t changed—“ 

And his lips find yours, cutting off your frantic thoughts with a sweet kiss that only leaves you wanting more, but also leaves you with more questions than answers. 

He pulls away, a small smile on his lips, “Breath “ and you sigh, taking a breath, “and I love you too,” your fingers interlace with his, “what is it?” 

But you don’t even know where to begin, except at the point, “You know the ex that broke my heart before we dated?” And he’s nodding, “Professor Geto is—“ 

“Is your ex,” he finishes, and you knew he had figured out, but you hadn’t expected it to come out so matter-of-factly, “I had a feeling and this morning confirmed it,” 

“I’m sorry,” you shake your head, “after he moved, I never thought he would move back, much less become my thesis advisor,” you bury your face in your hands, “and I don’t want you to think I was hiding it. It’s just with the relationship being taboo, I didn’t think—“ 

“You were trying to protect yourself and your ex, it’s understandable,” he squeezes your hand, “you couldn’t have expected this to happen,” 

And you’re lifting your gaze to his, “How are you so calm? How are you so…okay?” 

He gives a sigh, “it’s hard, I’m trying to stay rational for you — for us,” you lean against him, “what are you going to do? About your thesis?” 

“I think I’ll have to take Suguru as my advisor. I don’t have much of a choice,” you bite your lip, “I could take another, but no other professor has the same specialization as Yaga, except Geto, and I know he’ll give me good feedback,” 

“But?” You rest your head in your hand. 

“But having to spend that much time with my ex? Having to work on something so important to my career with him? Having to put you through that?” you feel more lost than when you began this conversation, “I don’t know what to do. I already agreed to it, but I think it’s only sinking in,” and you turn to him, “and then there’s you,” 

“What about me?” and you shake your head. 

“How can I put you through watching me spending hours with my ex over the next semester?” And Yuta shakes your head. 

“A decision important to your future shouldn’t just be based on me, it should be about you,” and you purse your lips — another reason why Yuta was so sweet, as you lean against him, burying your face in the crook of his neck. 

“I don’t deserve you,” he chuckles, running his fingers through your hair, “I’ll keep him as my advisor for now, but if you have a problem, please talk to me okay?” You lean back to look at him, “please?” 

“Of course,” and his lips find yours in a sweet kiss, “and you always deserve me — because I chose you.” You kissed him, his arms curling around you, as you leaned into his touch — the one place that always felt safe. 

And you didn’t know that he just hoped — you’d choose him too. 

~~~

Fuck. How was it you found yourself before Professor Geto’s door yet again? 

Winter break had flown by and now you found yourself back in the office you thought you had left behind not so long ago. Even if it felt like forever. You had spent your time split between working on your thesis, with the edits to your outline that Suguru had provided you, and with Yuta — who was more endlessly understanding than you could have hoped to imagine. And even today, as you headed off to meet Suguru in his office, he had nothing but soothing words for your nerves, sweet kisses, and a promise for a good meal when you got home. 

You hovered before the door of his office — no matter what had happened throughout these months, why did it always feel as if you always ended up here? Pulled against your will into a rotation around him — one that would have you stuck into a constant push and pull — and just when you had let go of his grip, you were pulled back in. And as your fist hovered next to the door, bracing to knock, you weren’t sure if you were ready to fall back in. 

But what you didn’t know as you stood before the door was that the man behind it was more anxious about this meeting than you were. 

~~~

“You’re early,” Suguru glances up from his paperwork, his top of his pen pressed to the seam of his lips, “for once,” 

Suguru himself had nearly been late this morning — ever the hypocrite, he supposed. He could barely sleep the night before, spent catching up on the work piled up for two department heads while the Kyoto campus makes potential temporary candidates jump through hoops. And then there was the other reason, his meeting with you — and all the complicated feelings he didn’t wish to entangle himself in. And yet he always fell deeper into your web, as if he didn’t willingly ensnare himself to begin with. 

He didn’t even know Yaga was sick, but he had seen the change in him. The subtle differences in his demeanor, the bags around his eyes, and the creeping slowness that came with illness. But it still hit like a gut punch to hear it from his mouth, and for him to ask to take over duties for him was a double edged blade of honor and complication. 

Yaga had given him the option to turn it down: to keep managing everything from Kyoto — but he accepted anyway — accepted because he knew that you’d be out of a thesis advisor. And he would be left unable to help from Kyoto with the in person role an advisor played. 

And so he was here. 

When he finally had gotten to lay down, eyes fixed on the familiar ceiling fan again — as he had managed to get his old apartment back by some miracle — and he hates how this place is a husk of itself without you here. But even with you here before him, his eyes snuck at glance at you, it somehow was worse being with you — when he was nothing to you. He could bear to not be your lover, but he couldn’t bear the weight of your hatred, or worse, your indifference. 

You cross your arms, your laptop bag draped on your shoulder, “You’ll never let that go until one of us is dead will you?” 

“That’s assuming we wouldn’t haunt the other,” he replies without missing a beat, as you take a seat across from him, eyes taking in his office. The same set up from before, if not a little less ostentatious and obnoxious — a few missing pictures and awards tucked away, the missing luxury sofa, and the lack of leather bound books lining shelves, instead minimally decorated with a few select titles — including What Do We Owe Each Other, prominently displayed. 

“I have better things to do than haunt you,” you scoff, pulling out your laptop from your bag, “did you forget to finish unpacking?” And he doesn’t offer even a look up at your remark. 

“No, just decided to take a certain person’s advice and try to take a less pretentious approach to my office,” his lips curled in that damnable wry smile of his, “plus not everything has been sent back from Kyoto yet,” and he leans forward, plucking your revised thesis outline from the neat piles lined up on his desk, “but my office decor isn’t why we’re here,” he flips through his notes on your draft, “the outline is in good shape, have you started on your draft?” 

You pull a stapled stack out to slide to him, “I have fleshed out some of my main points and I wanted your thoughts before I dove further,” and he takes it before scanning through it, silent as he peruses the contents. 

His eyes flit up, “You didn’t have to wait for my approval—“ 

“I know, but I value your opinion,” you grumble, eyes averted as you admit it, a graze of your teeth against the bottom of your lip. It draws a small smile from him, hidden away behind his closed fist pressed to his lips, “as my advisor,” you add, and he nods. 

The meeting finished up with much else, as you slide your laptop and things back into your bag. And for the first time your eyes meet his. 

“Have you been sleeping okay?” and he’s blinking a moment, as you continue, “you look tired. You should sleep more instead of working,”

He furrows his brow, “I am slee—“ 

“You have bags under your eyes, Professor,” you roll your eyes, “listen or don’t, but I rather my thesis isn’t re-assigned last minute because you ran yourself into the ground,” you say before turning to leave. 

“I expect your next draft by the beginning of the next week,” and you pause, the click of the knob as you pull the door open. 

“I’ll have it to you by the end of the week.” And you’re gone, door shutting behind you, and he leans back in his chair, a smile that he can’t quite hide on his lips. 

Maybe he wasn’t quite nothing to you after all. 

~~~

“I’m home, baby,” you say, as you walk in, the burden of the day still in the process of sliding off your back as you passed through the threshold of your apartment. You stripped yourself of your cost and your shoes, hanging your bag up, “Yu?” 

You checked your phone with no text or call from him — he said he would be at your place, and that’s when you spot a familiar mop of black hair from the couch. Your lips curl as you round the couch, only to find him fast asleep, his work spread out around him. His first day back seemed as stressful as yours, and yet he hadn’t complained. 

His bags were dark — a product of a bad night’s sleep — a running trend for today seemingly. You ran your fingers through his hair gently, knowing he wouldn’t wake simply by that, but you heard the quiet mumble of words you couldn’t catch. You glanced at the kitchen and found dinner prepped but not made. You smile softly, as you take the throw blanket and gently spread it over him, before pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, and then rising to your feet. 

You’re almost done cooking curry when Yuta stirs, the smell of the stewing beef and spices waking him, as he lifts his head, back of his hand rubbing his eye, while he glances at you with the other. 

“Hey sleeping beauty,” your lips curl, doing a bad job of stifling your chuckle at the sight of his black hair askew, “dinner is almost ready,” 

“Dinner? When did you get—“ and he picks up his phone to check the time, a small groan stuck in his throat, “why didn’t you wake me when you got home?” 

“I would have,” you wipe off your hands, as you make your way to the living room, as Yuta swings his legs off the couch, scrubbing a hand down his face, “but you’re so cute when you’re sleeping,” and his cheeks flush an ever so subtle pink — even after this time together, it was so easy to fluster him, “plus, it looked like you needed it,” 

Your hand brushes his cheek, and he’s leaning into your touch, your other hand running fingers through his hair to straighten it out, “I did,” he mumbles, “it was a long day,” 

“Want to talk about it over some rice and curry?” and he bites his lip, before he leans in to press a sweet kiss to you, delighting in the desperate look he gives you when you drag your tongue teasingly against the seam of his lips only to pull away, “don’t pout,” you drag your thumb down his lips, “I’ll kiss you plenty after dinner,” 

“Promise?” And you drag him to his feet and he’s walking to the bathroom as you’re opening cabinets to take plates out, only for his arms to wrap around your middle, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. 

You chuckle, biting back the shiver that runs up your spine at the warmth of his touch, “what’s that for?” 

“Thank you,” he murmurs, meeting your gaze with umbra eyes that has you lost in the only inky black sky you craved. 

“Of course, Yu,” you murmur before his lips find yours again, and you just wished you could live in this moment, as he parted from your lips only to press another kiss to your cheek, but you supposed you could— 

—For now at least. 

“She’s what?” Maki stares at Yuta as he rubs the back of his head, her words nearly ringing out in the empty conference room, “she’s spending a bunch of time with her ex and you’re ok with it?” 

Yuta has made a mistake — the mistake of being twenty minutes early to this student government meeting only to find Maki here alone, scrolling on her phone. Her eyes flitting up only for her to tilt her head and bark: 

“Oi, what is it now?” And Yuta didn’t know if he liked being so seen by her. 

Especially now that he was being judged for his decisions — or rather, raked over the coals for them. 

Yuta purses his lips, “I’m not exactly okay with it, but I don’t know what to do. She has to work on her project with him — I guess, how could I object?” And how could he? Your omission made sense, you were only trying to protect your reputation— and your ex’s by extension. But it didn’t make it sting any less. 

“Doesn’t she have another choice? Couldn’t she work with someone else?” Maki crosses her arms, eyes narrowed, as if she can detect the holes in his lies by pure reflex, “aren’t you worried she’ll go back to him?” And voices every worry almost if she’s ripped it from his mind itself.

“I am, she does have other choices, but I couldn’t be the one to make her choices for her—“ 

“But you couldn’t tell her how you felt about it?” Maki shakes her head, pinching the bridge of her nose as if this conversation is giving her a headache — or more likely, he’s giving her a headache, “how do you feel?” 

Yuta chews his lip, leaning on his arm on the table, “I don’t know, I understand it’s just a project — it’s something for her future — I don’t want to make things more complicated for us,” he mumbles. 

“You mean for her—and for your relationship,” Maki crosses her arms, tilting her head, “Yuta, if you can’t be honest with her, what’s the point of this relationship?” And people start to file into the room for the meeting, so she hisses in a whisper, “you need to figure out what you want — and how to tell her how you’re feeling because it’s going to eat you alive or drive her into her ex’s arms — either way, you won’t be in this relationship,” 

And on that bleak note, she gets to her feet to corral everyone into their seats, leaving him to simmer in her words. His phone lighting up nearly on cue with a text from you— 

Can’t make the meeting this week, babe — Geto rescheduled my meeting with him this week for now, so I’m headed there 

A hint of irritation pricks at him — it had to be today, during the only time that they had together at school? 

Another message comes through. 

I’ll see you at your place after the meeting - love you 💕

He locks his phone, tucking it away in his pocket — as Maki starts the meeting. 

It was fine — he would see you at home. It didn’t matter — Geto had only these meetings, Yuta had much more of you. It was fine. 

He forced his gaze forward, a gnawing dread in his stomach. Right? 

“What do you mean it was expected?” 

You were starting to remember the reason why you hated this man so vehemently when you first met him. His nearly smug expression made you want to leap across the desk and strangle him — though you knew the consequences of that action wouldn’t turn out well for you — nor the proximity for that matter, “what I wrote—“ 

“Is what others have written in papers time and time again,” he cuts you off, and you slump back in your chair, as you flip through the red inked comments he had so thoughtfully ripped apart your first few pages — the precise cuts and slashes enough for red ink to look like blood, “your thesis needs to be a unique take—” 

“And now it isn’t unique enough?” you grumble, crossing your arms, as your cheeks burn, “soon you’ll be saying I’m rambling again,” 

“No, I was able to rid you of that habit a while ago,” you glare at him, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips, “I would be concerned if you started to regress,” 

“Well, at least it would only be academically,” the words spit like venom from your mouth without a thought, but the hurt that flickers across his face is one that seemingly has too much thought behind it, “sorry, that was inappropriate,” 

“It’s fine,” the hurt is gone from his expression, as unreadable as it always was, “to get back to our discussion, I know you want this paper to be published by journals, and in order to do that, you need to have a perspective that hasn’t been explored before—at least not fully. Your outline reflects that, but your paper is regurgitating ideas that you’ve read,” he’s handing you a list of papers and books, with some noted passages, “read some of these materials, it might help give you some ideas to rework your paper,” and then he adds, “and you knew I’d say this,” 

You knit your brow together, “What?” 

He leans against his arm propped against the top of his desk, “Why else would you want me to see if you were going in the right direction? You always have an idea what you want to write, of where you want your paper to go — and you never wanted my greenlight for a long time now,” 

You hate how he can still see right through you — you hate how easily he can pinpoint your problem without you uttering a helpful word. Even before, it always felt as if he was the only one who saw you, without you having to explain a single thing. 

“You’re right,” and he hated how right he was, “I wasn’t sure where I was going,” this thesis had been weighing on your mind day and night, pricking at your nerves each time you stared at the blinking cursor of the document, “I still don’t,” 

Suguru murmurs your name softly, his gaze as gentle as it always has been for you, a part of you hoped — only for you, “As I’ve always said, the only reason why I push you is because I know you can do more. This thesis would be outstanding for many scholars, but I know you can do more,” he tilts his head, small smile on his lips, “and I know you still can,” 

“What if I can’t?” The question slips out before you can even think it, and he raises an eyebrow. 

“There is no ‘what if,’ I know you can do it,” and you bite your lip, “i don’t have any doubts,” 

“Not even one?” You reply, an eyebrow quirked. 

“Not when it comes to you,” and he said just what you wanted to hear, but you hated it all the more — because how did he know you so well? How did he know you so well and yet not know to talk to you before breaking your heart? 

But it didn’t matter now. And you couldn’t trudge up these feelings now, or maybe ever. 

“I’ll read these materials and rework it,” and you begin to collect your things all the while, getting to your feet. 

“Good,” and you catch sight of his smile in the reflection of your phone, “it’s what you owe yourself.” 

And your eyes meet his for a moment, so why couldn’t he give you what he owed you before? 

“Thank you, Professor.” 

“I’m back,” you call out in Yuta’s apartment, tucking your keys away into your bag, as you slip your shoes off and shrugging off your jacket, but you hear nothing in response, “Yuta?” But not a sound — no quiet voices of the TV, the clatter of dishes and utensils in the kitchen, and no sign of him in the bedroom either. 

You check your phone, as you sit on the edge of the bed, creaking under your weight, and you see his text: sorry baby, Maki took the group out for dinner after, you’re free to join us. And the address is sent underneath. 

But the text was well over twenty minutes ago, and it would take you longer to get there — which meant dinner would nearly be over. You laid back on his bed on your side, typing a reply. 

Sorry Yu, just saw this :(. I’ll come next time. I’ll make something up fast and probably lie down. I’ll see you at home. 

You curl up on the bed, placing your phone down with a sigh, eyes fluttering shut. Your nose turned into his sheets, Yuta’s scent flooding your senses, and you could nearly feel his arms around you. Almost. 

God, you missed him — especially you two just kept missing each other like this — and it made it all the more important you stayed awake. 

Your eyes flutter open, the sweet siren of sleep growing all the more tempting, a late lunch sitting like stones in your stomach and the need for the sandman’s relief growing headier. 

And before you knew it, your legs were tucked under the comforter and your eyes succumbed to their own weight. 

Your soft breaths filled the silence of the apartment, and even as Yuta came in an hour or so later, only to find you sprawled out messily in his bed, phone still in your hand, did he chuckle. His hands are gentle as he guides you into a normal position for sleep that wouldn’t fuck over your back, putting your phone on charge, and pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

And as he leaves the room to shower, not hearing the quiet murmur of his name leaving your lips. 

“You have to try a little,” you’re nearly waving your ice cream cone in front of Yuta’s face, soft serve dripping onto the pavement, and the soft pink swirl threatening to topple over in front of your eyes, but the risk of losing your beloved ice cream was not as important as advocating for it, “c’mon it’s so good—” 

“Baby, the ice cream is supposed to be your treat for all the progress you’ve made on your thesis, not a taste test, and I have my own flavor—” but as the ice cream hovers in front of his face, Yuta tastes it — the subtle sakura flavor lingering on his tongue, “it’s good,” he concedes, “but not as good as my matcha,” 

It had been a lot to tear you away from your work — it had been weeks in the making of trying to get you to take a break that wasn’t you falling asleep on the couch with your laptop and notes strewn about or a mindless TV break. And the times you both were supposed to have together often ended with one of you being busy or falling asleep. He barely remembered the last time the two of you had spent together that didn’t involve takeout or the couch. 

You pout, “Sakura is so much better,” you grumble, licking at your ice cream, trying to stem the excess melting off the sides of your waffle cone, and he chuckles, as a little of your ice cream sticks to your nose. 

“More for you then right?” he’s pulling a tissue out to wipe your nose and lips before kissing them, “Mm, it’s sweeter on your lips,” and he knows your cheeks are burning as you avert your eyes, biting your lip.

“You’re the worst,” and he laughs, as he wraps his arm around your middle, “but I’ll say you’re right about today. This date was definitely needed,” you lean into his touch, still working on your ice cream, “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy,” 

“You don’t have to apologize, it’s not just you that’s busy—” 

“I know, but it’s mostly been me,” your eyes find his, and he wavers under your glance, “I know we haven’t had a lot of time together, and I promise, it’s only going to last a little longer, once I’m done with my thesis I’m all yours,” 

And it’s hard for him to believe that — but he tries, because he knows you are. 

“I know,” he presses a kiss to your forehead, “I’m just glad we got to do this today, I just feel like we keep missing each other, and it just…it’s been bothering me,” 

And you kiss his jaw, before softly smiling, “You’re not alone,” and his lips find yours again, and again, ice cream starting to run down his fingers and palm, but he could care less about anything else but you at this moment, “You’re gonna make me drop my ice cream,” 

“I’ll buy you another,” and you laugh, kissing him this time, and he melts just like the ice cream into your grasp, your arms wrapped around him tight, “now who’s making our ice cream melt?” 

“You said you’d buy me another anyway,” you nuzzle his neck, “plus I have to leave space to eat you up later,” and you giggle as his cheeks burn, “you blush so easily still, thought you would be used to my teasing by now,” 

“Don’t think I’ll ever get used to it, still feels like a dream,” you pinch his cheek in reply, a smirk on your lips, as you kiss the skin that you pinched. 

“Now, it’s not a dream, is it?” And right as your lips were about to meet his again—

RING. RING. RING. 

Your brow furrows as you ignore it at first, before a sigh catches in your throat, “hold on—“ you check your messages, your brow furrowing, “fuck,” you swear under your breath. 

“What’s wrong?” And you’re tossing your ice cream in a nearby trash can, wiping your hand with one of the tissues the ice cream place had handed you, before texting back. 

“Geto wants to meet today about my thesis. Apparently some departmental meetings got pushed around, and today is the only day he can meet in person—“ 

“Do you have to—“ and you’re shaking your head in exasperation, burying your face in your hands. 

“I have no choice. It’s the only time until a week and half from now, and I can’t wait to get this feedback, otherwise it will throw off my entire schedule—“ 

“But this is the only time we can meet,” he cuts you off, voice catching on the words, as his tongue is caught between holding it and wagging it, “I miss you, baby, we haven’t seen each other in weeks because of our schedules, because of your thesis—“ because of him, “when will our relationship take priority? When will I be important enough to matter?” 

“Yuta,” your voice breaks, “of course you matter to me—“ and your phone vibrates again, cutting you off, and he takes a beat and a breath. He swallows thickly, this wasn’t the right time for this. 

But when would it be? 

“Go,” he says, and your eyebrows knit together, lips parting to refuse, “I’m okay, really. We’ll talk when you get home,” but he’s stepping towards you, as he presses a kiss to your forehead, “promise, we’re ok. Just go. I’ll call you.” 

“You sure?” He wasn’t. He wasn’t sure if he should let you go or stand his ground — but, his fingers cupped your cheek, and kissed your lips — but he was sure that he loved you. 

“I’m sure,” and he wanted what was best for you — and he watches you leave after you say your farewells — even if it wasn’t best for him. 

You shouldn’t have agreed to this. 

Agreed to take this meeting over your date. Agreed to meet in the lecture hall instead of his office. Agreed to have him as your thesis advisor. Agreed to even take a course with him to begin with. You were several steps too close to regret being born, but your real mistake was ever pursuing this man to begin with. 

That was your mistake — and now you are reaping what you sow. 

Literally. 

“Your lecture was compelling — I have so much to learn from you,” you stood outside his lecture hall as students filed out quicker than usual, without the typical quorum that formed after every one of his classes — only to find the reason that a single person commanded his attention, “I didn’t realize how wonderfully interesting philosophy could be as a topic,” her voice already grates on your ears, the elongated syllables of her words nearly enough for you to roll your eyes into the back of your head so far that you were they would get stuck. 

“It’s a fine line between interesting and dry, I’m glad I could walk it for you, Mei Mei,” and you could hear the smile in his tone, the saccharine sweetness enough for you to choke on and die of excess sugar, but unfortunately you don’t, so you have to hear the rest of this conversation. 

“I’m so glad I took Satoru’s advice to see your lecture, it was definitely eye opening,” and you furrow your brow, “he’s been asking me about you — he told me if I stopped by to have you call him,” 

You purse your lips — Satoru? 

A sigh in his voice as he speaks “He sent a real messenger this time? I get his texts, I have been really busy with my duties—“ 

“You know what they say — about all work and no play?” You hear the click of heels against the floor, as she assuredly steps closer, “maybe I can help you with the play—“ 

You knock on the door then, hand possessed, as you spot the woman with whom the voice belonged — her long silver locks tied into a braid that hung past her shoulders, her dark eyes finding yours and brow arched in curiosity, and wine stained lips curled. 

“Professor, I’m sorry to interrupt, but our meeting?” Your voice was laced with irritation you didn't intend to have, “I have a class after this, so unless you’d like to reschedule?” 

Suguru’s lips part, only for Mei Mei to speak first, “I’m sorry about that — that’s my fault — old friends you know?” Her head tilts, as if to say, no, I know you don’t know, “and you are one of Suguru’s little students?” 

“I’m his former T.A. and he is my thesis advisor,” and his girlfriend, you want to add — ex girlfriend, rather, but the words are as taboo as your feelings are, “I’m sure Professor Geto wouldn’t mind speaking to you after our meeting if you could wait,” 

And again Suguru opens his mouth to speak, but she cuts him off again, “Oh I wouldn’t mind waiting at all, not for him,” she walks past, “I’ll wait for you in your office, Suguru,” and you have to force your expression to be neutral, a knot in your gut, and a fist clenched and hidden around the handle of your bag, “I’ll make myself comfortable,” 

The lecture hall door closes behind her, the click of the door brings silence between the two of you, “I apologize if—“ 

“No, I should be sorry for interrupting,” you cut him off, your throat tied into knots, a distinct dull ache in your chest that surely shouldn’t belong to you — not after all of this, “I should have just rescheduled—“ 

“No, I’m glad you interrupted,” he says, “we have an appointment and she really is only a—“ 

“You don’t owe me an explanation, Professor,” and the title seems to cut this time, slicing through his mask, fraying his calm demeanor and leaving behind a deep frown, “it’s your business, not mine,” not anymore. 

His mouth opens and close, before he speaks, “Maybe not as a professor,” he says softly, taking a step forward, “but I think I do as your—“ 

“I’m not ‘your’ anything—“ you interrupt him, taking a step back,  “I’m only a student, and your advisee, nothing else, Professor Geto,” you’re turning to leave, “let’s reschedule after all, I have somewhere to be,” 

You had to be somewhere that wasn’t here — here with dredged up emotions that had no right belonging to you. Ones that you thought you had moved past, ones that shouldn’t hurt you the way they do now, and ones that you don’t know how to stop from spilling from your lips. 

“You’re not just—“

“Did you hear that she would wait for you?” you don’t turn to look back at him, “I wish you could have done the same,” you give him a second, one second longer than he gave you when he broke up with you, to reply, but he says nothing, “I’ll email you a few times to meet next week, just send me any edits you have on my pages.” 

The door clicks behind you as you leave the classroom behind, wondering if you had ever rid yourself of your feelings, or if you had simply buried it— 

And now, you are starting to unearth it — and your world may crumble underneath you along with it. 

There was something wrong with him. 

But there always was — when it came to you. 

Suguru stared at the email you had sent later that week, opting to skip the in person meeting again for the third week in a row. The semester was over half over — and now the other department head had started in Kyoto, so he had a little more free time — and yet he couldn’t use it to help you, at least not really. 

Your thesis was shaping up — you were on the right track now, and he knew your paper would need little edits before being submitted for peer review. And when it did, a journal would be lucky to publish it. By that standard, he could take a more hands off approach — but he never wanted to be hands off, not with you. 

He wanted nothing more than to take you into his arms, fingers trace the curve of your cheek as he’s done countless times before, and press a kiss to those lips that consume his consciousness. 

But he couldn’t. 

Not when he was the one who had broken your heart, when you had managed to piece it back together, and when you had found happiness with someone else. 

Something he wasn’t sure he could ever do. 

Mei Mei was an unforeseen complication — a donor that made some generous investments in the university — trivial with the amount of wealth she possessed, mostly due to Satoru’s convincing. And Satoru was the reason she had decided to sit in on his class — and he was stuck entertaining her, while his best friend was away on his sabbatical. And he couldn’t resist an opportunity to fuck with him while he was away — his apparent revenge after Suguru had avoided his texts. 

And your reaction was—not what he expected. He pursed his lips, you were jealous right? That’s what you seemed to imply with your words — as if Mei Mei was a friend he would be interested in. The pot calling the kettle black — when you were the one to move on first. A sigh caught in his throat, not that he had any right to complain. Not when it was his fault.  

But when the only person he was truly in love with was in front of him — the pain in your gaze as fresh as it was the day he had broken up with you — it was hard to hold back, especially when he wanted nothing more than to—

And then there was a knock at his door, “it’s me,” your voice came through the wood, his eyes sliding to the time, it was late into the evening, “can I come in?” 

“Yes, come in,” 

“I apologize, I just had a few questions I wasn’t able to ask over email, and since I was on campus, I thought—“ 

He shakes his head, your rambles still as endearing as they always were — though you had kicked the habit in your papers, you couldn’t help but ramble in the way you spoke, “No need to explain, what can I help you with?” 

You lean back, hands folded in your lap, “Do you remember when we discussed the concept of a happiness pump as a criticism of utilitarianism?” 

“Yes, in class, we discussed it — the idea of someone who will do anything to make others happy, even if it makes them miserable,” he tilts his head, as he leans back in his chair, eyes betraying him as he watches your dress ride up ever so slightly as you cross your legs — he forces his gaze to your face, “do you plan on using it in your thesis—“ 

Your eyes could cut stone with its biting glare, “No, I don’t, I wanted to talk about it in context of why you broke up with me — do you plan on being a happiness pump for the rest of your life? Or is that simply for me?” 

His mind moves slowly as his words do, “what—“ 

“Because it’s only for me, it’s flattering — if it’s what you do for everyone, well, it’s just exhausting,” you scoff, twirling a strand of your hair with your finger, “especially when your idea of what will make others happy is so misled,” 

“And how’s that?” He says through gritted teeth. 

And you’re rising from your chair, “You think my happiness means to make yourself miserable, when it does nothing more than make me unhappy,” you’re rounding the desk, fingertips dragging over the edge of the surface, “do you want to spend the rest of your life miserable? Do you think that girlfriend of yours will make you happy?” 

“She’s not—“ and your heels clicking against the wood cuts him off. 

And you’re only drawing closer and closer, and he can’t bring himself to speak — words caught in his throat because he knew anything he uttered would break this spell, and he wanted nothing more than to succumb, “pumped full of unhappiness when it could very well be the opposite—“ and your hand is sliding up his chest, toying with the top buttons of his button-up, lips ghosting his ear as you whisper, “when you know I know exactly how to pump you, don’t I?” 

“Sweetheart, please, we can’t—“ and your fingers finding the buckle of his belt, a gasp lodged in his throat, as your hand grazes his tenting bulge, twitching against your thumb as it runs over the clothed tip, “fuck—“ 

“We could be so happy, like before,” your lips brush against his, and he crumbles under your touch — his resistance crumbles like a statue made to wait, and god, he’s waited so long for this — too long. 

His lips find yours in a bruising kiss, the way he’s wanted to since he had watched you leave that day — the way he should have, the way he should have grabbed your hand and stopped you, pulled you into his arms, and never let you go. 

And he never would again. 

BUZZ. BUZZ. BUZZ. 

Suguru jolts awake at the sound of his phone, a paper stuck to his face, drool sticky at the corner of his mouth. He tugs the paper away, rubbing his eyes, as his heart slowly retracts from his throat. 

A dream. He runs his fingers through his hair, leaning back in his chair, what the fuck was he doing? Sleeping at his desk again accompanied by wet dreams of you — he thought he had grown from this. But you always sent him right back where he started, his eyes falling to the bulge in his pants. He ignores it, gathering his things and tracing the edge of his desk as he rounded it to leave his office. He took a look over his shoulder at his office that he spent so much time with, he was sure of one thing — he flicked off the light — you would be the one to haunt him. 

For the rest of his days. 

“Baby, aren’t you gonna get up now?” Yuta murmurs in your ear, pressing sweet kisses to the skin behind it, fingers resting against the nape of your neck, “you said you have to practice for your thesis presentation,” 

You mumbled, burying your face in his neck, as the two of you lie entangled on the couch for your mid afternoon Saturday nap, “a few more minutes,” 

The semester had been going by far too quick, days slipping into weeks, and now there was just over a month left in the semester. And soon you’d be graduating — his fingers raked gently through your hair — and he didn’t exactly know what that meant for the two of you. 

He still has a year left in his program, and you were going to be moving on — though you weren’t sure exactly where. And he would be here — but what then? Would it be a long distance relationship ? Would you look for opportunities here? Or would it be something else? 

He didn’t want to think about other possibilities. 

So many of his friends had warned him not to date while in grad school — that it would only end in heartbreak, and the more significant fact that it would always end. Your face nuzzled into his neck, warm breath still warming his skin, as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head — and he never wanted to be apart, not from you. 

“Baby,” you mumble, “what time is it?” And he can’t help but smile at you, as he reaches for his phone. 

“It’s almost four-thirty,” and you groan softly, wrapping your arms around him tighter, “you still have time before you have to go practice don’t you?” 

“No, I reserved the classroom until seven, if I don’t go now, I won’t have enough time to practice,” you kiss his neck, “I have to get as much practice in this month before doing my defense,” You untangle your limbs from his and haul yourself to your feet, his body already mourning the absence of your heat. He watches you make your way to the bedroom to change, the door still open as you strip your shirt off.

His gaze admires you as you do, shifting to sitting up, his chin leaning against the back of the couch, “When is your defense again?” 

“It’s in three weeks,” you sigh, as you tug a shirt over your head, “I’m so nervous, I have to start practicing now or I’ll drive myself insane,” and you’re stripping off your shorts in exchange for some jeans, “my advisor, many of my professors, students from the department, and maybe some undergrads might attend,” you turn, as you finish changing, catching his admiring gaze with a slight smirk, “and unlike you, they won’t just be interested in staring at me,” 

“I think some of them definitely will,” he smiles, and you walk over, leaning down to press a sweet kiss to his lips, “at least, I’ll be, if you let me,” 

Your lips curl, “Oh yeah? I think I’ll be distracted if you keep giving me this puppy dog look, baby,” you kiss his nose, “might make me walk over in the middle of the defense and kiss you,” 

A soft chuckle leaves his throat, “That would cause a scene, but I could also be some moral support — a friendly face,” 

“More than friendly, you’re selling yourself short, Yu,” you kiss him again, and he can taste the lingering salt and butter of the popcorn you two had ate earlier during your afternoon movie turned nap time, “but I think having you there would make me more nervous, so is it okay if we just have dinner to celebrate or cheer me up after?” 

His brows knit together, “You don’t want me there?” but Geto gets to be there? The unspoken feelings he can’t find in him to voice, the words lodged in his chest, ricocheting off his ribs if only to free themselves from his anxious heart to spill from his lips — but they don’t. 

“I do, Yu, of course, but I think having you there will just make me more nervous, I’ll just keep looking at you instead of addressing the whole audience, and…” you bite your lip, “with Professor Geto already having to be there, I think I would spend the whole time worrying about the two of you together than about my defense,” 

And his heart sinks — your ex gets to be there, but he doesn’t? At one of your most important moments? He knows logically the only reason you ask because you can’t ask Geto — but it doesn’t hurt any less. Does he always have to be the nice one? The mature one? Couldn’t he argue with you?

No, but he could ask. 

“Do you think I’ll make a scene or that he’ll—“ and you’re shaking your head, your fingers cupping his cheek. 

“Of course not. I know you would do nothing but support me, but still forcing you two of be in the room together,” you press a kiss to his forehead, “even if you say it’s okay, I know it’s still hard,” his lips part, but you add, “and it would be awkward for me too. And I can’t do anything about Geto, but I can ask you,” 

You could always ask him. He would do anything for you — but did his feelings matter as much to you? 

“Of course, I understand,” your lips curl, and you’re pulling him into a hug, you rake your fingers through his hair. 

“Are you sure?” You murmur, pressing your forehead to his, “you can tell me if you’re not okay with it,” 

He could tell you that he’s not — he could tell you that it’s important for him to come, for everyone to see that he was important to you, for him to see that he was important. But it wasn’t about him. This was your defense, shouldn’t you have a right to have who you want there? 

Even if it wasn’t him. 

“It’s fine baby, I just want to support you,” he kisses your lips, “but I’ll plan something special for after you pass your defense — because I know you will,” 

You kiss him again, softer and fuller this time, as your fingers run down his cheek, “You don’t have to plan anything — I just want you, and maybe some food,” and he chuckles, as you place butterfly kisses all over his face, “I love you,” 

And he knew you did — you loved him — and that was enough, right? 

“I love you too,” and you’re pulling away, as you pull on your shoes and grab your bag. 

“I’ll be home by eight, should I grab dinner?” and he leans back on the couch, nodding, “I’ll see you when I get home okay?”

And he was the one you always came home to — the one you wanted to come home to — and that was enough. 

“See you soon, baby.” 

For now. 

You enter the lecture hall, the door closing behind you with a click that rings in the silence. 

Of course. 

Of course you ended up with the lecture hall you had with Suguru’s class. You round the podium at the bottom, and give a terse chuckle, how had it been so long but so little time? How many days had you watched him lecture here — only to end up falling for him after? Even despite how much you hated him — it was so easy. 

And still so hard. 

You set up your phone to record yourself, if only so you could fine tune your presentation, and see any spots that you struggle. You prop it up, making sure it’s framed correctly on the desk directly in front of you. You run through your presentation once, noting spots for improvements or thoughts for potential questions people could pose during your defense. 

You flipped through a few pages of your notes — wondering how this semester had flown by. 

The rest of your thesis was completed over email — brief email exchanges and your thoughts exchanged through notes scrawled on the pages he scanned to you. It was better this way — you didn’t have to see him. You didn’t have to see the smile on his lips that you didn’t put there, a stray lipstick mark on his collar that you didn’t stain, or the happiness in his voice that you didn’t cause. 

No, you didn’t need to see that. 

But you didn’t know why. 

Why did the idea of him moving on irk you when you had already moved on? You weren’t vindictive — your fingers drumming against the podium — you wanted him to be happy, to find someone who made him happy — maybe in all the ways you couldn’t. But the stubborn thought remained — the same one that kept you up crying every night after he broke your heart and haunted you even in your happiest of nights — that he could have had it all with you — but he didn’t. And now here you both were, fake smiles plastered in front of each other whenever your paths crossed, as if those lips hadn’t murmured ‘I love you’ before in the quiet of the night. 

But why did it matter? You were happy with Yuta, you had moved on, and yet — when you saw Suguru with her, it felt as if the stitches holding your heart together had come undone, and you were back — right where you started. 

But it didn’t matter. Either way the thesis was complete, and now all that was left in front of you was the defense, then you would be done — with this project, with your degree, and with Suguru. 

But would you ever be done with him? 

There was a knock at the door, and you turn only to find Suguru leaning against the frame, “Sorry to interrupt,” 

Apparently you would never be. 

Your shock lasts a moment, before your eyes flicker back to your stack of papers, “Do you need something?” The question comes more bitingly than you intended, but you don’t bother to gauge his reaction, focusing on mindlessly rifling through your presentation. 

“I forgot my notes for tomorrow’s class,” he says, quiet steps ringing in the silence of the lecture hall, “didn’t mean to interrupt,” and you’re gathering your notes, catching a glimpse before you step back from the podium, “are you practicing for your defense?”

“I am,” your answer is as terse as your emails, eyes fixed anywhere but where Suguru stood, as he pulled his file from one of the shelves inside the podium. 

“Do you need any help?” He asks, and you almost want to ask: ‘haven’t you helped me enough?’ But you don’t, only shaking your head in reply. The silence drags on for far too long, “can we talk?” 

Your muscles tense, a bow drawn taut for an argument, but you would draw blood first, “What is there to talk about, Professor—“ 

His calm facade cracks, irritation seeping in like poison through the fractures,“You don’t need to call me that—“ 

“I do,” you cut him off, “because that’s what you are. My professor. Nothing more,” and it’s a line in the sand you’ve drawn since you’ve met again, one he hasn’t dared to toe, much less cross, until now. 

His voice is broken, “We were so much more,” yes, you both were. He was everything to you as you were to him — but that was before. And this was now. 

“Operative words are key, Professor — ‘were’ is past tense,” 

“But we’re here now, aren’t we? How long are we going to avoid discussing this?” 

You scoff, “am I the one who avoided it? Do I have to discuss it now on your terms — when you didn’t even give me a chance to make my own decisions before?” Your fingers curl into fists, “you broke me, you broke me and now you come back wanting to talk as if you didn’t do the breaking to begin with? You don’t get to come back when I’m fixed,” the bottled emotions burst at the seams of its lid, the contents more vile than when they were placed inside, resentment fermented into rage. 

“I know,” he says softly, “I’m not trying to come back, not if that’s what you don’t want. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I left you. I thought it was the best for you—“ 

“Because you know better than I do?” You give a bitter chuckle, “do you know infantilizing it is to have someone make your decisions for you? I know what I wanted, Suguru, and I would have chosen you, every time—“

“That was the problem,” he cuts you off, “I wanted you to choose yourself,” 

“Do you not understand that choosing you is choosing myself too? Because it would have been a choice for me, for us, for us to be happy,” 

And those words seem to sink in the silence, his eyes averting from yours, a hand scrubbing down his face. 

“You’re right,” he finally says, “I’m sorry,” his words are quiet, but heavy — a rock sinking slightly into near still waters, “I wanted you to have everything, but I didn’t take into consideration what that meant to you,” he says, “I suppose I didn’t consider what I owe you,” he adds, and you shake your head, a small smile on your lips. 

“Shut up,” a chuckle leaves your lips despite yourself, cooling the white hot anger to warm wistfulness,  “I wish it could have worked out,” and he nods, a small frown on his lips. 

“Me too,” 

“But maybe it was for the best,” and his eyes find yours, as you step back to the podium to place your papers down, “it was never going to work between us. It was already too complicated to begin with, and when we finally got together, there was a time limit,” you find his gaze again, unreadable, “maybe it was for the best we moved on,” he doesn’t reply, “I should get back to work,” 

He nods, as he turns to leave, casting a glance back over his shoulder,  “Let me know if you need help with anything. Practice or otherwise, has the final formatting of your thesis been approved?” 

“It hasn’t yet, but I believe I followed the guidelines correctly, so there shouldn’t be an issue,” you say, and he nods, as the door clicks open, as he turns the handle, “thank you again, for everything,” and there’s far too much that can encompass everything that he did even in that word, but you meant it all the same. Everything he did had led you to this moment, and you would never be ungrateful for the impact he had. 

“Of course, I’ll always be there for you, anytime,” his eyes find yours, lips curled in a wanting smile that wishes to say more, “even when I actually do move on.” 

And he’s gone in a moment, the door shutting behind him, as your gaze is fixed on the place he just stood — lips parted.

What? 

“Professor,” you stop him, fingers reaching for him, even as you promised you wouldn’t — wouldn’t put yourself here again, wouldn’t find yourself falling into his grasp again, but here you were again — you never learned your lesson. But you wondered if that made you a bad student or him a bad professor, “what do you mean?” 

He’s turning only for your hand to grasp onto the sleeve of his jacket, your name leaving his lips but you cut him off. 

The question wavers on your lips, “Are you not with—“ 

“No, I’m not. She’s just a friend, like I said,” he runs his fingers through his hair, “I know it’s ironic for me to be the one to break up with you, and not have moved on, but, I haven’t,” his fingers brush against your own holding his jacket, before slowly intertwining, “I don’t know if I ever will,” 

“Well, some philosophers believe in endurantism — the past is dead, and we live here and now — we can’t do anything about what happened then — we’re whole right now, and not defined by what happened then, or what happens in the future,” your fingers squeeze his, “if we let this go, we could just exist now — the past erased and the future unclear — but we’re no less whole, are we?” your fingers slowly let go of his — but his don’t. He only clings to your fingers still, stubbornly laced. 

“Perhaps you aren’t,” and he’s gently tugging you closer, you don’t find yourself resisting, but instead leaning into his touch, “but I always find myself clinging to my past — when you’re contained within it,” he lifts your hand to his lips,  “what future do I have without you?” He presses a soft kiss that steals your logic, “and what present is worth being in that I don’t get to spend at your side?” 

“Suguru—“ and he sighs, as draws closer to you, breath warming your lips. 

“Been so long since I’ve heard you say my name,” his lips ghost your jaw, barely not brushing against it, “my name doesn’t sound the same unless it’s leaving your lips,” 

“We shouldn’t,” but even so, the back of his hand lightly drags against your why shouldn’t you? Not when it felt so good, not when it felt this right, and your lips graze his, “Suguru,” you’re murmuring, the faint lingering taste of coffee on his lips, “fuck—“ 

RING. RING. RING.  

Your eyes flutter open to find yourself in bed alone, your hand reaching beside you only to find more of your blanket and more pillows beside you, as it dawns on you. 

A dream. Of course. A sigh stuck in your throat — no, you had watched him leave that night without another word, even though you had so many to say, but none at all. And even now, you didn’t know what to say — to Suguru, to yourself, or to Yuta. 

So you said nothing. And instead, you’re left with an aching in your chest as you grab your phone to find a text from Yuta— 

Had to go in early today— I’ll see you for dinner, baby 

You lock your screen and place your phone on the nightstand, before turning back around to bury yourself in bed — as if staying in bed would bury your feelings along with yourself—

Because that’s not whose text you wanted to see. 

“You’re home,” Yuta says when he walks through the door to find you lying on the couch and scrolling on your phone. 

“No ‘hi you’re home?’” And Yuta snorts, as he strips off his clothes, and walks in to place a kiss on your lips, burying his face in the crook of your neck, drawing a giggle from your lips, “I missed you too,”

“I thought you were going to practice today. Your defense is the day after tomorrow. I didn’t think I’d get to see you out of a classroom until tomorrow evening when it was done,” you run your fingers through his dark locks, “thought I’d have to pry you away from your notecards,” 

“Ha, ha,” you kiss his cheek, brushing your nose against it, “I thought it would be good to take a break tomorrow, and I’m just exhausted after all the practice I did tonight,” you sigh, and he’s on the couch beside you, wrapping his arms around your middle, “this seems like a much better use of my time,” you settle into his arms, “how was your day?” 

Yuta shrugs, kissing your shoulder, “Better now,” and you chuckle, rumbling against his skin, sending a shiver up his spine as you lean over, his cheeks a pretty flush that only makes your lips curl, “it’s been too long since we got time like this. I don’t even know where to start,” he nuzzled the side of your face. 

You turn your head to kiss him fully, lips sliding against his, voice a quiet murmur, “then let’s make our time count,” your sweet kiss grows deeper, your tongue at the seam of his lips that he parts for you. You swallow his moan with a smirk on your lips, your body moving against his slowly, his tenting erection catching on your clit through the far too thin material of your shorts. 

“Fuck,” you murmur, as you slowly begin to grind on his bulge, the delicious friction too much for him as well, head lolling back against the couch, “Yu, s’good,”

“Mm,” Yuta parts from your lips, panting as your lips press eager kisses down his neck, a desperation he hadn’t sensed before from you,  “baby, slow down,” and you almost don’t seem to hear him, as your fingers find their way between your bodies to touch him through his joggers, “ngh, you don’t need to—“ 

But you seemingly do, as your thumb flicks against the tip, a soft hiss escapes his lips, “like that, pretty boy?” You’re murmuring in his ear, “gonna make you feel so good, because you’re s’good f’me,” 

And you’re slipping his joggers and boxers down to free his cock, stroking him from base to tip, lovely beads of precum dripping down his length and your knuckles. 

“Fuck,” he’s covering his face with his hand, his fingers grasping at your hips, before eager fingers slide between your thighs and underneath your underwear, drawing a lovely gasp from your lips, “wanna make you feel good too, baby,” as his fingers circle your dripping entrance teasingly, a smirk on his lips, as he sinks one then two fingers in knuckle deep—

“Yu—“ your hand stills for a moment as his fingers work their way against your drenched insides, “fuck—“ and you’re melting into his arms — and maybe this was just what you both needed. 

“This was so nice,” you mumble against his chest later, pressing soft kisses against his skin as the two of you laid entangled in the afterglow, “it’s been too long,” 

He hums, “It was perfect,” his fingers skim down your cheek, “you know we could have this every day,” and you chuckle, the corner of your lips curled mischievously. 

“Do you have the stamina for that?” you tease, painting a heated flush across his cheeks, as he rolls his eyes. 

“I mean, we could go to sleep like this every night, and wake up together every morning if we moved in together,” and you blink at him, his nervousness overcoming him as he begins to backpedal, “w-we don’t have to! I just thought I’m ready for the next step with you. And I want to—“ 

You cut him off with a soft kiss, pausing his worries and anxiety in the syrupy sweetness of your kiss, before you pull away, “I think I need some time to think about it,” 

And he nods, “take all the time you need, baby,” pressing a kiss to your forehead, but a thought still niggles into the forefront of his mind that he can’t help but dwell on— 

Would you say yes if it was Geto asking? 

It always seemed that you were ready when it came to him. Ready to be with him, no matter what the consequence, willing to make it work — but with him, it felt as if he was always the one chasing, and you were reluctantly within his grasp. 

As you drew closer into his arms as the two of you settled down to sleep, his fingers running softly through your hair, he wondered how long it would be until he felt as if he wasn’t the one desperately holding onto you, even as you seemingly always slipped away. 

Even as he held you against his chest, heartbeat under where your head laid. He knew you were the one who had his heart. 

He could only hope you wouldn’t drop it. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” it wasn’t supposed to be like this, but it was always like this. No matter how well prepared you felt, something always managed to go wrong at the last minute. It was always when you were lulled into a false sense of security, only to have a rude awakening—

And this time it came in the form of an email rejecting your thesis formatting as incorrect. An email that came in that morning, but you had slept through, choosing to sleep in past noon after last night. And when your eyes fluttered open, Yuta was gone already for the day, you rolled over to check your email when you saw it. 

Fuck. 

You barely had time to text Yuta what had happened before rushing to the library to seek possible help from the librarians — fuck, you would have paid every overdue library charge if necessary. You didn’t want to wait another semester to present again. It would be more time wasted, more time spent working towards something you’re already for, more time spent in this place that you didn’t want to linger in any longer. 

How had you managed to fuck it up so bad? Now every one of your citations and in text citations would need to be redone, along with reformatting by 5:00 PM today. And it was already 2:00 PM. 

But maybe you were going to have to, as you rushed to pull the library door open, only to find it was closed this weekend due to scheduled maintenance. 

Double fuck. 

Your eyes burned with tears that you didn’t want to shed right now. You had no time to cry. You had no time to panic. But it was all you wanted to do — just crawl into bed and cry. 

You were turning back around to leave, when you nearly ran into— 

He steadies you, his fingers brushing your shoulders, as his lips part to greet you, but his brow furrows when he sees your expression, “what’s wrong? Are you okay?” 

And that wasn’t the right question to ask. 

Tears slip from your eyes before words can, as Suguru blinks, concern flooding his face, as his hand finds yours and he takes you to his office nearby. It takes a few minutes for you to calm down (several tissues later) and you finally explained to him what happened. 

His hand never leaves yours. 

“I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to waste another semester here, I can’t do that. I want to graduate—“  

“Listen, slow down for a second, ok?” His voice is soft, soothing your anxiety like a balm, even as your nerves flare as your eyes flicker to the time again, “There’s time to fix this and go get it resubmitted before 5:00 PM. But, even if you do have to do another semester, what’s so bad about that?”

You shake your head, biting your bottom lip, “I can’t waste time like that. I already said I was graduating. If I have to stay another semester,” more tears trail down your cheeks, your nails digging into your knees, “how could I face anyone after how hard I worked?” 

Suguru whispers your name, his fingers brushing against your cheek, “what’s another semester? Nothing will change. No one will view you any differently. But the more important thing is how you view yourself — and you know how hard you worked. You’ll be fine,” 

You’re wiping your tears, sniffling, unable to meet his gaze, “How do you have so much faith in me?” 

He gives a brief chuckle, “It’s you — how could I not?” And your eyes finally lift to meet his, as his thumb rubs lightly back and forth across your cheek, before he clears his throat, “we have time to get it resubmitted,” 

“‘We?’” and he stands up to grab a copy of your thesis and the error notes you had shown him. 

“Well I can’t have you do it, otherwise you’ll end up submitting it late,” and you huff, a watery chuckle leaving your throat, “come on.” 

“Suguru?” You call softly, as he turns, blinking at the sound of his name, “thank you.” 

“Of course.” and he smiles that damnable smile that made you fall for him — your heart squeezing and thudding against its bony cage, an aching that left you longing — a glance at your phone with Yuta’s notification that sent that longing sinking like a stone into the pit of your stomach. 

No. It wasn’t that. 

It wasn’t. Not if you let it be. 

“I’m sorry,”

It had been quiet for sometime as the two of you made edits — him on the actual physical copy, while you edited the digital. The quiet scrape of his pen against paper and the clack of your keys are the only sound in his office. The very same one that the two of you had built your relationship from, and now here you were again. Except there was no banter, no smiles shared, nor even a knowing glance exchanged. 

There was only silence. 

Until you spoke first. 

It was a silence you weren’t accustomed to — a layer of awkwardness that had settled between the two of you as if to bandage the honesty that had shredded the false student-professor only relationship you had superimposed on top of the two of you. 

Only for you to claw your way out — and claw him open as well. 

But no bandage can seal a gaping wound for long, and there was only one way to deal with a bandage effectively, by ripping it off. 

His eyes draw up slowly from the pages in front of him, glasses perched on the tip of his nose so precariously that you wanted to push them back, “You have nothing to be sorry for — and you know it’s better to thank than apologize — I’m always here to help,” 

But that wasn’t what you were apologizing for. 

“I meant for the other day,” you say softly, guilt was crawling at your throat. 

His gaze grows heavy, “There’s nothing to apologize for that either. You were right,” he adds, “I made decisions for us, when it should have been a discussion — especially when I said it was for you—“

“I wasn’t sorry I said it,” you gently cut him off, fingers knitted together in your lap, “but I’m sorry for where and how I said it. It wasn’t the time or place for that.”

“It’s really ok,” he tells you, a glance at his face telling you that it really was, “I would have yelled at myself far sooner, and nothing you said wasn’t true,” his hand tugs at his tie, loosening it, his fingers wrapped around the fabric, “I wish I did it differently,” 

You shouldn’t ask the question but it falls from your lips before you can stop it, “What would you have done differently?” 

And he gives a smile worthy of melancholy’s grasp, “I would have kept my promise to you,” and you know which one he means without him needing to say, “I would never have left you, if I hadn’t been too busy being a happiness pump,” and those words stir warm coals in a fire you thought was long put out — but somehow burns still, a flicker of a promise for a spark. 

One you couldn’t stoke. 

“Well, you make an excellent one,” and he scoffs, “no really, I’ve never seen someone so unhappy trying to make someone else happy before,” 

“I wouldn’t say, ‘so unhappy—’” his pout is far too cute for your own good. 

“Can really tell your life fell apart without me,” you say completely teasingly, as your lips curl, only to find his eyes on you still, “what?” 

He only shakes his head, “only regretting not giving you lower than a 99 on your final paper,” and you gape at him as he bites back a chuckle, “I am the department head, maybe I could—“ 

“You mess with my grades—“ and your phone goes off — it’s Yuta. A text asking if everything was ok, before his face lights up your phone screen, and you’re not quick enough to avoid the awkward moment where Suguru sees it, “sorry I—“ 

“Go take it. I have plenty to get through,” 

“But—“ but he’s already back to reviewing your citations as if nothing had happened as you pick up the call, screech of your chair as you get up to take the call, “hey, yeah I can talk—“ and the door is closing behind you as you step outside. 

You don’t see the way he leans back, scrubbing a hand down his face to rest at his lips, “What am I doing?” 

And he really didn’t know — as always, when it came to you. 

“You’ll do amazing,” Yuta pressed another kiss to your lips, as you did the final adjustments to your outfit for the defense, “I can’t wait to celebrate with you,” 

“I know, I can’t wait for it to be over,” you sigh, pulling him into your arms, your chin perched on his shoulder, “you still haven’t told me what we’re doing,” 

He chuckles, his fingers cupping your cheek, “I told you it’s a surprise, so telling you would defeat the purpose,” you turn away to look at yourself again, “you look perfect,” 

“You’re just saying that because you’re too nice,” you grumble and he laughs, as you bite your lip, meeting his gaze in the mirror, “I’m sorry about not having you there,” 

And he feels a twinge in his chest, he had spent the last few days not trying to think about that. It wasn’t important that he was there — it was important that you’d be coming home to him. That’s what mattered — or that’s what he kept telling himself. 

“It’s okay,” he intertwined his fingers with yours, and squeezed your hand, “I’ll be here after, waiting for your good news. Because I know it will be,” and his arms pulled you against him, and he can’t help but wonder why he doesn’t want to let go. 

Even if you were ready to go. 

You barely remembered what you said. 

You remembered how your stomach turned and twisted in knots you didn’t know were physically possible as you made your way to the building where your defense was being held. Your fingers kept twiddling with your phone, checking the location and date listed in your email a million times to ensure you hadn’t missed your defense already or that you didn’t imagine your citations were accepted. You were sure your clothes would wrinkle from the sheer anxiety cladding through your veins, the vibration of nerves enough to beat creases into your freshly pressed clothes. 

And you remembered seeing Suguru right when you walked in. He stood behind the table with the other members of the committee, chatting — and objectively, you hated how unfairly pretty he was. His long, inky hair tucked into a neat bun today, choosing to wear a crisp white button down, opting for no tie, but a off white sweater vest and black suit jacket over his shoulders, and lips curled in a small smile that only grows warmer when he catches sight of you from the corner of his eye. And it must be nerves, the way your heart flutters within your chest and the way that heat clings to your cheeks — nothing more. 

Your eyes slide to him again — no one else. 

You remembered how people filled into the classroom that you were defending your thesis in, as you shuffled around the front, setting up your presentation and notes for talking points. You spotted Maki, Panda, and Inumaki walk in, undoubtedly Yuta’s doing, along with a few of your other friends from the program. Your hands shook ever so slightly, even as you wrung them — a nervous habit you had picked up before large presentations or important milestones. 

And then as people took their seats and it was 4:00 PM, it was time for your defense. You took a breath for a second — and your gaze finds not your friends, but Suguru’s. He offers you a smile, a look that tells you that he believes in you — always more than you ever had. 

So you begin. 

You don’t remember what you said — but you remember speaking as you did a million times before in practice. You remember making an adlib or two that draws a few chuckles from your audience. But what you mostly remember is the few glances you stole from Suguru who listened intently, a mouthed encouragement when you took a pause. 

And soon you were answering questions after concluding the main part of your presentation. You are fielding them from professors and students alike, until there was only time left for one more. There was silence for several moments — it felt like hours, the committee conferring and speaking amongst themselves. 

“I think I can take one last question,” and your eyes darted over the group, finding no hands, until one slowly went up — one you were familiar with, “Professor Geto?” 

Of course he would have a question — no less, the last one. 

“I just had one comment about your thesis, not a question,” and with how he had poked and prodded at the fire of your work from the moment you met him — the way he pushed you head first into the flames, if only to temper the best version of your work, and of yourself. And even though you had burned yourself one too many times, you couldn’t help but reach for it again and again, “after conferring with the committee, congratulations, you passed your defense.”

The audience claps and congratulates you, a sea of shaking hands and kind words while you recover from the defense. But as the crowd disperses, you find Suguru walking towards you. 

A silence settles over the two of you for a moment — a want to speak lingering between you two, but no words said. Why was it always when you had so much to say you found none of the thoughts you wanted to express? There wasn’t enough time — but they would never be.

But he breaks it first. 

“Congratulations on your defense. You did wonderfully,” he says, hands tucked into his pockets, as you bite your lip, cheeks burning. 

“No remark about me being on time? Or any little criticisms? I’m shocked. You’ve lost your edge, Professor,” he chuckles, shaking his head. 

“Oh, there will be time for that later,” he replies, his hand slipping out from his pocket only to be placed gently on your shoulder, “but right now, I just want you to know I’m proud of your determination and grit, but mostly, I’m proud of you,”

His name almost slips from your lips as your mouth opens and closes, words stuck in your throat, “Thank you. It means so much,” especially from you. But you can’t say that, “I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me,” 

“You don’t owe me anything,” and you chuckle, gaze finding his own, just as it always did. 

“Don’t I? I think I owe you a drink, I never did buy you one after all — purely for networking purposes,” you add, “and a thank you for saving my ass on these citations,” 

And he’s shaking his head, “All I did is what you what have done for anyone else,” 

“And you wouldn’t?” And he shrugs. 

“For a student? Maybe. For you? Always,” and you bite your lip, gaze falling,  “what is it? 

“Why?” ‘Why for me?’ was the question you wanted to ask but you couldn’t push the words past your lips even as they rested on your tongue. 

But he knew the words. 

“You know the reasons,” he says softly, “I know you have nothing but amazing things ahead, and I’d do anything to see you reach your goals,” 

And he would. He did.

“I can agree with that,” a hand clasps your shoulder, Yaga gives a small smile, “good job,” 

“Professor Yaga, oh my god,” you grin, resisting the urge to hug him, “how are you? Are you feeling better?” 

“I’m well enough. Treatment has been honestly shit, but my son is doing a good enough job looking after me,” Yaga rubs the back of his head, “that and balancing classes hasn’t been easy for the kid.” 

“Your son goes here?” Professor Yaga points at a familiar cluster of three, “Panda?” You didn’t really see a family resemblance but you supposed you didn’t have to. 

He nods, “but I’m not here to talk about him,” he holds his hand out to you, “I’m very proud of you. I know you have a bright future ahead. I apologize I couldn’t help—“ 

“You did too much. Thank you Professor Yaga,” and then others are calling for you, “if you both will excuse me,” 

“Of course, I need to speak to Suguru so it’s just as well,” and your attention is pulled, but the corner of your eye still watches him, watches him leave the leave — leaving you behind here. Just as it should be, your gaze sliding back, as your fingers rested against your chest. 

So why did it hurt so much? 

Yuta was late — it seems he always was, when it came to you. 

Even so, this time it was somewhat purposely, but he still had tried to be on time. He wanted to at least hear the very end of your defense, if not in sight, then outside the classroom. But he had run late, trying to straighten out reservations he made at a restaurant you’ve been wanting to try for months. He had finally convinced them to bring out a cake as if to celebrate your birthday, but for your thesis. It was silly, as Yuta half walked half sprinted to the room of your defense, only to find it was over. 

The doors to the lecture hall had been opened after your defense finished, some people filing out, while others lingered to speak to you or others. Yuta held the bouquet of flowers behind him, scanning the group for you — and his eyes fell on you — with Geto. 

You were both off to the side, speaking alone, his hand clasped on your shoulder, before slipping off. And it was clear from the way he looked at you — that he felt the same for you as he always did. And you—

You looked the same, as you always did, when it came to Geto. 

Yuta’s fingers squeeze at the base of the flowers, plastic crinkling under his grasp. He hadn’t asked why you had stopped meeting with him for your thesis — almost a relief to have your correspondence all over email, and not to face dealing with the weekly meetings. He hadn’t asked, but he could assume some sort of argument happened, a discussion, a confession maybe — something you hadn’t broached with him. And a part of him really didn’t want you to. He didn’t want to have the boat rocked on him — but—

As he watched you become pulled away when another professor joined your conversation, and Geto was pulled away out of the room by that same professor — Yuta saw your eyes follow Geto’s back. The two walk past Yuta without notice, engrossed in their conversation, and Yuta catches a few snippets of it before they’re out the door. 

And he turned back to you — he knew he may have to be the one to rock it. Because the ship had already begun taking in water — and it was either he grasped onto the side with white knuckles and went down with it, or he let it go, letting it fall into the wreckage. He glanced away from you, starting to walk off towards the exit — because maybe this ship wasn’t made to sail, but to sink. 

And he couldn’t let himself drown — even for you. 

You checked your phone again as you left — no phone calls, not even a text back. You bit your lip as you made your way back to the apartment. You had already called him three times, but your anxiety was getting the better of you. He had told you he would meet you after the defense, but there wasn’t any sign of him. 

You opened the door to your place, keys jingling as head inside to find him sitting on the couch. You put your things down, as you head to the living room. 

“Yu? Are you okay? You weren’t picking up—“ and you see a bag of his things packed, “Yuta?” 

“Sorry I made you worry, baby, I just thought,” he sighs, unable to meet your gaze as he looks in front of him, “I thought I could wait, but I can’t,” 

“Yuta, what? What’s—“ 

Your name leaves his lips, cutting you off gently, as he finally looks at you, gaze heavy, “we need to break up.” 

You don’t have words. 

No, you have one word. 

“Why?” You ask, as you take steps forward to sit beside him, as your mind struggles to keep up — your certificate still in your hand, the excitement of being done all but extinguished. 

“I’m sorry, but don’t you know why?” He asks softly, and your eyebrows knit together, shaking your head, 

“What are you talking about?” And you’re wringing your hands, fingers nearly in knots, a sigh parting your lips as you try to soothe yourself, “Yuta, I know I’ve been busy this semester with my thesis, but it’s done with. And we can go back to—“ 

“We can’t,” and it was so final — so definitive — and without a way for you to have a choice. Yet again. Were you doomed to repeat this cycle? Again and again. With no change in the outcome. And you don’t know what to say, as you scrub a hand down your face. 

“Okay then,” and your name slips from his lips, as you cross your arms. 

“You don’t understand—“ and your chuckle is so bitter. 

“How can I when you haven’t explained? All you’ve said are cryptic things that I’m supposed to piece together what? What am I supposed to know?” Tears slip down your cheek, forcing your voice to stay steady, the stress of the last few months crashing down around you just as your relationship did, “I know that I haven’t been the best girlfriend. And I’m sorry. I really am,” your voice breaks, “But I tried. I tried to communicate. I tried to spend time with you, even when I didn’t have a minute to myself. You knew I’d be busy. You knew that going in and still—“ 

His voice is gentle, so gentle that it infuriates you — gentle even when he’s hurting you, “It’s not that—“ 

“Then what is it?” You snap — you were tired of running in circles — you needed an answer, a tangible reason why. 

“Geto,” you blink, as the confession settles over his face, “it wasn’t your schedule. It was who you spent it with,” and you’re staring for a moment, expression crumbling under the weight of the truth. 

“Yuta, Yu, no—“ you step towards him, but he only sighs, running a hand through his hair, “it was only for my thesis. Nothing happened between us. I promise,” 

“I trust you when you say nothing happened,” but his eyes lift to meet yours, “and in a way nothing has happened, because you still love him,” 

“yuta—“ 

“I know you love me, in some way,” the words leave his lips slowly, cutting you each syllable, but you can’t imagine how deeply and how long he’s been cut by these thoughts already, “but not like you love him—“ 

“That’s not—“ 

“You know before we started dating, I talked to Maki about how I feel, and I told her I was afraid that you would never look at me the way you look at him,” and the mended pieces of your heart break apart with new cracks with the way his voice wavers, “but all this time, and still, you haven’t. Even today, when I waited outside of the lecture hall, I saw you both together — and I know,” he breaks off, biting his lip, “I know it was him congratulating you, but the way you looked at him hadn’t changed—“ 

You’re shaking your head, “Yuta, no, no, it’s just a look. I don’t even know how I look at him, but it doesn’t—“ 

“I do know how you look. It hasn’t changed,” he’s swallowing, his eyes fall to the floor, “and it’s not just that. Do you see a future with me?” 

“Of course—“ 

“When I brought up moving in, you said you’d think about it, but have you?” you open and close your mouth, fingers grasping at the fabric of your clothes, “have you thought about what happens after you graduate? Or what’s next for us?” your silence is answer enough — sinking in for you, as it already did for him — slipping in between your ribs like a well placed dagger — and it had stabbed him all the same too, “you love me, but I don’t think you’re in love with me,” 

“Yuta, I do, I do love you—“ and he draws close to you, fingers cupping your cheek. 

“But the world doesn’t stop for you when I come near? It doesn’t feel as if I steal your breath when I hold you like this? Does it feel as if you don’t wish to spend a moment without me?” 

“Love doesn’t always have to—“ 

“But it does — to some extent,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “you imagined your future with him didn’t you? Didn’t even want to spend a moment apart?” And he gives a terse chuckle, “we have to break up,” 

You don’t want it to be true. You want to fight him, argue, convince him he’s wrong, that the explanation he’s pieced before you is falsified — a distorted version of how you felt conflated by misunderstandings. 

But you can’t. 

“Yuta, I—“ and he shakes his head, “no, I’m sorry, I didn’t, I didn’t mean—“ your eyes burn with tears, “I’m sorry,” 

He smiles softly, pulling you into his arms, “I knew we had rushed in, but I didn’t want to wait, because I thought I’d lose my chance,” 

“Yu—“ he kisses your cheek, “I do love you, I do,” and he nods, lips curling sadly, before he pulls you into another hug. 

“I know. I love you too.” 

But it wasn’t enough — and it wasn’t right. 

Not for either of you. 

You don’t know how much time you spent in bed after that. The semester had closed out, and you had curled up under your sheets — seemingly a new tradition you had of ending a semester with a break up. You wondered if graduating would end it — and if it didn’t, you might have to reconsider going for your Ph.D. — if only to avoid this pain again. 

You stick your head up out of your blanket, glancing at the light pooling in from the window — because time went on no matter how you felt, and the sun rose each day, despite it all. 

Yuta had grabbed his things and left a while after. You still could feel the brush of his fingers against your skin as he squeezed your hand one last time. 

“You’re still my best friend,” you had told him, forcing your voice to stay even, and he chuckles, a smile on his lips. 

“You’re still mine too.” 

But even so you hadn’t heard from him in a few days — but you couldn’t blame him. You could only blame yourself. It had become so exceedingly clear that he was right. And you didn’t know how you hadn’t seen it. The anger still lingered, but anger was only the remnants of your love for him that still stubbornly clung to life, despite your efforts to move on. 

But moving on wasn’t as simple as finding feelings for someone else — not when you were only ever truly in love with one person. 

You were still in love with Suguru. 

Despite it all — you hadn’t gotten over him, and you weren’t sure you ever would. If months weren’t enough, would years be? Would you ever get rid of the feelings you had for him, wrapped around your limbs, and had snuck into the crevices of your heart. An invasive species that perhaps you would never eradicate. 

But you couldn’t go back now. Not after everything that happened. Not 

Your phone goes off, lighting up on your bedside table before beginning to ring, your fingers slipping from inside your cocoon of blankets. You grab your phone — Professor Yaga? 

“Hello?” 

He greets you with your name, “I hope you’re doing well — I just wanted to reach out to congratulate you again on your successful defense,” you smile, sitting up as you do. The two of you make small talk as he discusses his recovery, reporting that he’s doing well. 

“Thank you so much Professor Yaga, for everything, really,” and he chuckles. 

“Thank you for being so understanding of my situation — it was difficult, but I’m glad Suguru stepped for in me so well, and I’m sure he’ll do well in Kyoto—“ 

“He’s going back?” the question spills from your lips before you can even hold your tongue, “I didn’t know you were—“ 

“I’m not returning yet, but even if I do, I don’t think I will be returning as a department head. So I gave Suguru the choice to stay department head here or move to Kyoto,” and he adds, “I did give him the choice to stay here or move back to Kyoto,”

And your throat is dry, “Oh I see. That’s good for him,” a silence settles over the call for a moment, before Yaga speaks.

“He hasn’t made a decision yet,” Yaga says, and he’s staying for graduation so if you’d like to thank him in person since I interrupted your conversation, II know on good authority that he’s in his office right now,” and he adds, “it’s not too late if someone were to speak to him now,” 

You blink, “Professor Yaga—“ 

“You’re all but graduated so I’m allowed to say this — I wish you both the best. But I know Suguru has never been happier than when he was with you,” you bite your lip, “so for both of your sakes, you should go talk to him,” 

“Thank you, Professor, for everything.” And you hang up without much to do, grabbing your bag and keys before heading out the door. 

He was right, fingers squeezing around your phone — it’s what you owed him — and yourself. 

Suguru sat back in his office, finally done with his papers for his philosophy class. The sun had long fled the sky, along with most staff and students. The end of the semester had come quick, and with it came a quiet and deserted campus with nothing but his grade book and the buzzing of the fluorescent lights in his office to keep him company. 

Not that he was craving company. 

He loosened his tie, unbuttoning a button or two on his shirt and on his cuffs, and then rolled his sleeves up. He was insane for still insisting on teaching a class amongst the insanity, though he did have another professor step in to co-teach the course. He didn’t know why he had stuck to that sticking point when it was illogical — but, as he gazed down at the stack of final papers strewn in front of him doused in his red ink, he knew it wasn’t a logical reason. 

He was rifling through the graded stack, adding the scores to his grade book. This semester has been a mixed bag, a mix of grades — from high to low. Some of the papers were insightful, others were clear that they had only taken this class as a course to blow off. But even of all the high graded essays, not one of the papers compared to yours. 

But of course, no one compares to you, and that’s why he needed to leave. He knew that. He wanted you to be happy — even if that didn’t include him. And after this semester, it couldn’t. Being around you was an exercise of torture — Tantalus who had been starving for decades to get a taste of food, only to be hungrier after that morsel. A bite of the apple only makes you want to devour it, core and all. 

It was just as Aristotle had said — desire was made of both rational and irrational, and his longing for you is rooted in the rational — because yes, perhaps his body craved you irrationally and carnally, but that was far overshadowed by the need for you after experiencing you for himself. This self made inducement would be the death of him, and Aristotle himself would call him a fool. 

But he didn’t need him to — because he was. A fool and a coward, just as you said. He sets down his pen, leaning against his hand, as he looks over at the blank reply email to Yaga with his cursor blinking. It would be for the best if he left for Kyoto again. So you didn’t have to see him again. 

And then there was a knock at his office door. He paused, eyes flicking up only to hear your voice through the door, “It’s me,” 

He hates the way his breath catches at the sound of you, heart picking up as his eyes flicker to the somewhat late hour and back. No words on his lips except the one thing he can say. 

“Come in,” 

And you do — you always liked to tease him that he was the one who was unfair when it came to how he looked, but to him, it was you that was unfair. Your hair askew, chest rising and falling quick, clothes a little disheveled and yet, you were always the most gorgeous person he’d met in his life. 

You shift in the entryway of the door, squirming seemingly under his gaze, “Is this a bad time?” 

Time never was in either of your favor, not ones that she found beguiling, except in a way meant to deceive. But time and time again, he allowed himself to be tricked — if only for a moment with you. 

“No, not at all. I just wrapped up grading the final papers,” and you give a soft chuckle, as you close the door behind you, before taking careful steps forward, eyes finding the stack nearly bleeding from his careful cuts and slashes. 

“How many red pens did you use up? Fifty?” 

“Oh, only forty-nine this time, trying to be more conservative with my usage,” and you scoff, more of a chuckle than a sneer, “plus, I didn’t have a student write several pages over the limit this time—“ 

You gape at him, and he has to bite back his smile,  “It was one page, and you said I could,” 

“Bullied into it was more like it,” 

“Don’t know of a case where a student could bully a professor into anything,” 

“They clearly haven’t had you in their classroom,” and then he adds, a soft smile on his lips, “but I suppose I could see them enjoy being bullied by a student as passionate about the subject — even if my office hours suffered for it,” 

“You loved those office hours,” and he wants to say, yes, when you were there — but he can’t. He told himself he wouldn’t cross that line, “and I did too,” you add, and his eyes find yours — but maybe you would cross it instead, “you remember what you said about not being my professor anymore?” 

And he did — all those months ago at the end of the first semester you had spent in class together, and he’s nodding, mouth impossibly dry, “Well I’m as good as graduated, so you’re definitely not my professor, not anymore,” 

Your name slips from his lips, brow furrowed, a question almost, as if it can’t be what your words implied, but you’re shaking your head, as you pull a folded paper from your bag, unfolding it before sliding it across his desk. 

His eyes fall on it, and it’s the note he had written all those months ago — asking you for a drink, and for so much more. He had admired your determination, your wit, your beauty, your intellect, and so many other things he didn’t have space to say — 

“Suguru,” and his eyes find yours, and god, why was it so easy to get lost in your heady gaze? “We had said we didn’t want to hurt each other — but I don’t think that’s something that can be avoided. You hurt me,” and he nods, lips parting ready for an apology, “but I’ll probably hurt you — and I probably have already,” 

“Sweetheart—“ the pet name falls from his mouth as if it’s second nature, “I—“ 

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” and the corner of his eyes burn with tears — is this a dream? Because he swears, it would be the cruelest one so far, “I can’t stop loving you, and I’ve tried to—I’ve tried to move on,” 

“Maybe it would be for the best,” but you’re shaking your head, as you’re slowly rounding his desk, and the truth can’t help but fall from his lips, “I don’t deserve you—“ 

“What did I say about making decisions about us without me?” And he sighs, resistance crumbling as you draw far too close — and he couldn’t bear not to reach out, “you have to take responsibility for your actions, don’t you?” 

“Sweetheart—“ 

“You said you haven’t moved on — is that still true?” 

His fingers reach across the chasm he had carved between the two of you, his fingers tracing the curve of your jaw and the swell of your cheek, just he had wanted to for all these months. And just a taste, a brush of your skin, he’d never let you go again. 

“I never could — not from you,” his voice wavers, “every day I missed you — I never wanted to break up with you, I just couldn’t bear to be the reason that you ever hold yourself back from getting something you wanted,” and he gives a bitter chuckle, shaking his head, “who knew I was the one doing that by leaving? And I’m so sorry, I am so—” 

And your forehead pressed against his, his words nearly swallowed with a sob, as he squeezes his eyes shut, tears burning a trail down his cheeks, that you gently thumb away before cupping his cheeks, “I want to hear something other than an apology,” 

His flutter open, lips brushing against your cheek, “I love you, I always have, sweetheart. I never stopped—” his voice breaks, a crack in the dam enough to spill the truth from his lips and tears from his eyes, “and I promise I’ll never break my promises anymore — that’s a contradiction, but—“ and your fingers find purchase on his cheek, consuming the words on his lips with your touch, “I promise, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you,” 

Your lips curl, eyes watery as you kiss away one of his tears, “Is that a proposal?” you tease, your other hand slides back through his black locks, twisting one strand around your finger, “seems a little fast for that when you haven’t even kissed me properly yet,” 

He snorts softly, clearing his throat ever so slightly, “If memory serves me, we’ve done a lot more than kiss before,” and he’s daring closer, as you lean down, your legs pressed against the lip of his desk, “nearly in this office,” and he’s slipping up from his desk, his breath stolen from his lungs by the whisper of your perfumed skin, and his logic eroded by the heat of your body against his. 

“‘Nearly,’” you repeat with a soft hum, as your lips graze his jaw, “then why don’t we fix that?” your lips find his, a chaste kiss, barely a few seconds when you pull away half a centimeter, and he’s already leaning back in for another and another. 

The familiar feel of your lips against yours makes him wonder how he had survived without you for so long — falling for you was as natural as breathing and kissing you was needed as oxygen. But each kiss only sends jolt over jolt up and down his body, and he wonders if he were to ever stop again, perhaps his heart would too. 

Because all the time he had spent not with you was time spent living — perhaps breathing and existing. But no, he only felt alive when he was at your side — and in your arms. And especially against your lips. Delights in the way your lips part for him like muscle memory, tongue against yours — in a sloppy, desperate kiss that has every ounce of reason sucked from his mind (and likely into your mouth). 

He parts if only for air, a string of spit connecting your lips, that he thumbs away, “If I recall, you had something about me not being very ethical last time we did this,” he remarks, his lips parting before kissing down your jaw, your taste an addiction to his deprived lips — a desert wanderer ready to swallow you whole, “and now here you are,” he’s leaning back, as your hand is splayed back against the wood of his desk, your chest rising and falling, lips kiss bitten red and swollen from his own, “what do you call this?” His finger is toying with the top button of your blouse. 

“A student taking after her teacher,” your lips find his pulse, teeth grazing his skin as if to taunt him, to goad him to go further, but, and his fingers slip behind. your thighs and squeeze no goading was needed — he was ready to devour you. 

And he’s lifting you onto his desk, papers crumpling underneath and pens flung onto the floor, and a gasp caught in your throat as he pins you against it, before tugging his tie off. 

“Looks like I still have plenty to teach you.” 

“Sugu, fuck,” your fingers thread through his black locks, undone from his bun hy your own hands, your nails digging into his scalp. How long have you been in this office with him now? Half an hour? Almost an hour? Time had lost all meaning to you when he had kissed his way down your body. 

Burning kisses that had stolen your thoughts from your mind and left only him in its wake — how had you lived without him? Your fingers had found their way to the back of his neck, as his lips mapped the peaks and valleys of your neck and collarbone. 

“Fuck,” a gasp parts your lips when his teeth teases the juncture of your neck and shoulder, sucking and biting again and agin, until he’s left pretty love bites gracing your across your skin. 

And that sharp tongue of his dragged over the marks left blooming on your skin, as if couldn’t simply get enough of you, and he couldn’t. 

“Suguru, please—“ you’re whining already and he barely began, and the all too smug smile against the swell of your breast only told you he thought the same. 

“Patience, Princess, so needy f’me, aren’t you?” But he obliged anyway, fingers deftly unbuttoning your shirt. 

And now your blouse was nearly shrugged off, your bra undone with your pert nipples still sticky with his saliva and breasts covered in small marks from his teeth grazing your skin. And now he had tugged your skirt down and off, leaving you only in your underwear. 

“You’re making such a mess on my desk, sweetheart,” he clicks his tongue, as his large palms slide up your plush thighs and squeeze, drawing a lovely gasp from your lips, before he’s parting your thighs, “but it’s such a pretty mess when it’s you,” and you were so fucking pretty with your legs parted like this, panties translucent from your juices leaking from your dripping folds, even glossy against the wood of his desk now. And he would be sure to make a bigger mess soon enough. 

“Sugu,” your cheeks burn as he stares, your embarrassment melting into a gasp when his fingers drag against your clothed slit teasingly, up and down, so meticulously again and again, until his fingers are sticky with your pre, “ngh, please—“ 

Your plea is enough for him to snap, as he’s tugging your underwear away and off, tucking the ruined panties into his pocket with a glint of his amethyst eyes in the low light of his office. Pretty folds in full display for him, with your swollen clit and glistening slit nearly begging for attention, and he’s more than happy to oblige. 

And he’s running a finger down your lovely folds, gathering precum on his finger, far too slowly for your liking, as he takes his time to circle your clit, “All this just from a few kisses?” lust pools in his gaze with a flicker of amusement, “so sensitive just for me,” your need for him as plain as the juices that seep from your pussy, walls fluttering and aching for something more than the tip of his finger. 

“Suguru, fuck, I can’t,” your toes curl when he finally pities you with a kiss to your needy cunt, nose bumping against your clit teasingly, the friction making your thighs tremble, “please—” 

“Never thought I’d hear my quick witted T.A. beg for me like this, but I have dreamt of it,” you glance down at him, lips glossy with your pre, “I have to make up for time lost, time I wasted without you, princess,” and his thumb rubs at your clit, while his lips press sweet kisses to the flesh of your inner thigh, “it’s what I owe you, isn’t it?” 

“I—” your sentence lost to a moan as he drags the flat of his tongue up your slit, tip of his tongue teasingly lingering around your entrance, and your hips buck into his touch, warm palms coming down to pin you in place against his desk. 

You can barely stifle your moans, fingers flying up to press a hand over your mouth, as the tongue starts to flick and circle your clit, while a lithe finger teases your tight cunt, “I’m not one for sweets, but you may give me a sweet tooth,” and his lips close around your clit, sucking and licking, making your back arch, your arm behind you shaking as it struggled to keep your balance. 

“Fuuuuck, Sugu, I—” you’re panting, head lolling back when he finally sinks a finger into your fluttering walls, the wet squelch of your cunt and your barely contained moans filling up the relative silence of his office, “please—” and a second finger joins the first, a smirk on his lips as he kisses your puffy clit again, a groan when he feels the way your walls clench around his fingers, knuckle deep. 

“Gonna break my fingers at this rate, sweetheart,” he’s grunting, but even so he’s adding a third finger, the stretch far too delicious as it sends stripes of heat up and down your body and right to your spasming cunt, “what are you going to do when I put my cock inside? Our refresher lesson has barely begun,” and he’s enjoying this too much, and when his arms are hooking around your thighs, carefully lying you back on his desk, your hands slipping from his hair, and instead propping himself up on his elbows. 

“Sugu, wh—” and your back arches as he begins to thrust deeper into your cunt, a strangled gasp on your lips that melts into a moan as his lips close around your clit. You can barely make out the obscene noises that leave your lips, as his fingers fuck you open, before he’s sucking hard — once, twice, and then a third time— “I’m—“ 

You can barely find the words before you’re cumming, walls squeezing and fluttering around his fingers while he fucks you through it, lapping at your juices, his name on your lips again and again, until you finally come down from your high. He pulls his fingers away from your twitching pussy, only to bury his face in between your thighs again. 

“Fuuuck, Sugu—“ your moans are broken as your body arches into him, fingers finding purchase on his shoulders, sucking and licking your release eagerly, seemingly hellbent on tasting every inch of you. 

Pretty moans fell from your mouth, muffled as you clasped your hand over your lips, “can’t waste a drop, sweetheart,” he’s slurping and sucking at your cunt, and god, if anyone walked by his office, they would surely hear you both — hear the nasty squelch of your pussy and your barely muffled moans. 

How many times did you orgasm from his tongue alone? You had lost track. Each time he would bring you over the edge with the thrust of his tongue or the suck of his lips, and he would eat you out through it, only building to the next and then the next. 

“Sugu, please, I’m close, fuck—“ and you can’t even hear your own broken voice, not over the lewd sounds of his mouth sucking at your pussy, the coil tight in your stomach and ready to snap, until another hard suck makes you cum, hard.

Your fingers find their way into his hair, clutching at him desperately as you squirt all over his face, drenching him along with his desk, wood sticky and soaked with your release. He’s lapping at your cunt, thighs twitching from your orgasm, until he’s finally pulling away to glance up at you with dark eyes, his chin and mouth glossy with your cum and his spit. His tongue darts out to clean both, before wiping the rest away with the back of his hand, glazed over gaze half lidded with need. 

“S’good for me, Princess,” he’s pressing gentle kisses up your body, “so pliant, and yet you were so mouthy before,” and his lips kiss that mouth of yours, letting you taste yourself on his tongue, as he presses you further into the desk, his arm slinked around your back. And you’re pulling him just as close, hands grasping at the front of his button-up. 

And then you’re pushing him back, forcing him into his chair, as you get to your feet, before sinking to your knees. His breath catches, eyes watching you — your disheveled appearance, hair half mussed, and skin shiny with sweat, “let me show you how mouthy I can be.” 

“Imagine someone walked in now, see your pants down for your favorite student,” your tongue trailed up the underside of his clothed cock — and he could nearly cum looking down at you between his thighs, your kiss bitten lips pressing a sweet kiss to the head of his dick, thumbing at the leaking slit, licking your lips at the sight of the large stain of his precum on his cock, “Sugu, you’re so fucking big, can’t wait to feel this inside,” and his length twitches, a grunt in the back of his throat, as your fingers toy with the elastic of his boxers, snapping the waistband against his sensitive skin. 

And god, he’s fucking pretty like this. Black locks falling in front of his perfectly sculpted cheekbones with a lovely flush settled over his features 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he’s panting, head nearly lolling back against the headrest of his chair, “gonna tease me after this long?” it’s half joking, half pleading, but you’re only clicking your tongue at him. 

“You made me wait much longer, Suguru — made me cry too,” and his gaze softens, lips parted with an apology that fades into a hiss, as you free him from his boxers, erection slapping against his still clothed abs, “but now I’m going to make you cry,” you press a teasing kiss to his weeping tip, flushed red with need, letting his white pearly release paint your lips, “until you’re begging to cum,” 

A strangled gasp caught in his throat, tracing the pretty veins and curves like it was made for you, “You’re so pretty, Sugu — all of this is for me?” Your fingers slowly stroking his length, his moaning music to your ears, as your other hand teasing his balls, “gonna cum down my throat already? Can’t cum this soon,” you cooed, his fingers digging into the armrests of his chair, and yet your fingers squeeze around his base, hips jerking into your touch. 

“Princess, stop teasing—“ his protests had fallen on deaf ears, as you bring your pretty lips to his aching tip, only to trace his slit with the tip of his tongue, salty precum disappearing inside your mouth, and fuck, it’s enough for him to nearly cum there and then, “please,” 

“Didn’t know you could be so polite, Sugu, when begging for your student to swallow your cock,” and finally you let his cock part past your lips, and his head falls back, eyes fluttering shut as your tongue swirls around his length. It was already too much for him — so much, just as you were, your tongue tracing and teasing his dick, while your lips sucked along the base. 

And you weren’t doing much better, the weight of his cock against your tongue makes your cunt ache for him, and sneaking glances at his fucked out form — muffled moans of your name as he covers his lips with the back of his arm, as his dark gaze watches you sink his cock into your mouth again. Your hand is slipping into your throbbing pussy for some relief, as you bob up and down his length. 

But he doesn’t miss it, a groan at the sight of you swallowing his dick whole whole riding your own hand, “Does fucking your mouth feel that good, Princess? Feel that good that you need to touch yourself?” And you’re moaning around his length, vibrations of sending shivers up his spine and a groan of your name from his lips, “So fucking good f’me, Princess — too good for me,” he’s grunting, as you let his tip brush the back of your throat now, making pleasure rip up his body, “sweetheart, please, g’nna fuck your throat if you keep that up,” 

And you ease off, letting his cock slap against your tongue as it slips out, “maybe I want you, Sugu,” you’re kissing and licking along his length, “want you to fuck my smart little mouth,” 

Fuck. 

You’re sliding his cock back in, his hips jerking against you as you let him sink all the way in, tip brushing against your throat again. And fuck, the wet squelch of your fingers inside you breaks him, as he starts to give an experimental thrust, a light one that has you moaning around him. He’s gauging your reaction, only for you to force his length down more, barely not blowing his load there and then, as you look up at him, a smile in your eyes as if you’re daring him. 

And he can’t hold back. 

He’s fucking your mouth, your tongue massaging up and down his length as he thrusts inside your warm mouth, his nails digging into your locks as he holds you flush to his body. The sight of you on your knees, taking his dick as drool and pre drip down your chin, eyes nearly rolling back with pleasure as you do, making his cock twitch in your mouth. 

“That feel that good, Princess? Wanted me to fuck this mouth that bad? I should do it more often if that’s what it takes.” he’s almost drunk off the pleasure, thrusts growing a little rougher as he grows close, “fuck, I’m close, baby, where—“ and your hands are sliding around to his lower back, holding him in place as your answer, “shit, sweetheart, you’re going to be the death of me,” and you suck around him as his tip hits the back of your throat again, and that’s it—

He spills, hot cum flooding your mouth and down your throat, as you both moan in unison, large spurts devolving into smaller ones, as he comes down from his high. You don’t waste a drop, swallowing every bit of it, as you finally pull away from his cock with a pop, the sight of your ruined lips with strings of spit and cum still connecting you to his dick is enough to have it twitching again. 

“Sweetheart, you’re s’good to me,” he’s gently pulling you up into his lap, his fingers running through your hair. “I don’t deserve you. I don’t—“ and you’re cutting him off with a soft kiss that steals the words from his mind, your eyes shiny with tears. 

“You do, you do because I choose you, because I love you, and I know you’re sorry,” you cup his cheek, before lightly pinching it, “and if you ever do anything that stupid again, I’m going to kill you and I’ll be ethically and morally justified,” and he chuckles, burying his face in the crook of your neck to press soft kisses to your skin, before pulling back to look up at you. 

“You have my permission to do that, because if I ever leave my soulmate again — it’s only the consequences of my actions,” and he kisses your forehead, before he presses his to yours, “and I don’t want to live in a world where you’re not by my side,” 

You kiss him slowly, wrapping your arms around him, slowly heat building as the head of his cock bumps against the length of your cunt — the sparks grow into flames, threatening to engulf you both. And you would let them if only for one more second of his touch. 

“Sugu, please, I need you,” you murmur, breathing in his pants as your noses bump, “need you inside me,” he cups your cheek, meeting in another kiss, before you’re lining yourself up, weeping cock bumping against your needy entrance. 

“Are you ready?” You ask, and it’s for more than just this moment, it’s for everything that comes after — for every second that you both get to live together, “our phones are off right?” 

He snorts, “I turned it off when you entered my office,” and you laugh, shaking his head, as he places a kiss behind your ear. 

“I did the same before I came in,” his fingers cup your cheek, as you lean into his warm palm, “just you and me?” You echo from your first time together, and his lips curl into the softest smile. 

“You and me, sweetheart,” and you’re sinking onto him, tip parting your spread folds as your walls swallow him whole, inch by inch, and his fingers grasp at your hips, helping you ease onto his cock, pretty lips parted with a quiet murmur of your name. 

And when he finally bottoms out inside you, he’s almost forgotten how good it felt — pleasure ripping up his spine as your hips are pressed flush to the other, “So deep, Sugu, fuck,” your walls are fluttering around him pulling even deeper, clamping down as if he groans, “I’m gonna move,” you manage between pants. 

You lift up to the tip before slowly beginning to bounce up and down, your moans filling his ears along with the squeaks and rattling of his computer chair. His eyes flutter open only to watch your breasts bounce up and down as you ride him, his hands reaching out to squeeze at the pillowy flesh, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips. 

“S’big, fuck, Sugu,” you’re moaning, a mess as you fucked yourself on him, but still not quite deep enough, and he begins to meet your thrusts with his own, making you fall forward holding onto him with a whine as he fucks up into you. The sounds of his balls slapping against your needy cunt ring in your ears, the grunts your pussy pulls from his mouth as he drives himself impossibly deep, “ngh, Sugu, fuck, s’good—,” you’re whining, back arching into his touch, nails digging into his shoulders, “please,” 

“That’s it, take my cock, pretty girl,” he murmurs, “so good for me. So tight, never going to leave this cunt at this rate, baby—“ 

And then they hear a door creak open and close nearby, freezing as they do, heart thumping against your ribs, but your wall flutters all the same, “think they’ll see us like this?” He teases, and his cock twitches in your cunt, “spread out and fucked by your former professor’s cock?” And you know he’s only goading you as the footsteps depart, but your walls squeeze at the thought, “want them to see how good you are for me? How well I’ve taught you to take this cock?” 

And he begins to fuck into you again, pistoning up into you, drawing more moans from your lips. He had taught you every inch and curve and vein of his dick, but this refresher would make sure you’d never forget. 

“Sugu, I’m close, I-“ and his hand is slipping between your bodies to rub at his clit right as his cock hits that spot that has you seeing stars as you cum hard around his cock. He watches the place your bodies meet, a white ring of cum around the base of his cock as your walls flutter around him. 

He fucks you through your orgasm, hips stuttering as he twitches inside you, “fuck, sweetheart, where should I—“ and you’re moaning as you manage to meet his thrust to notch him even deeper as he finally cums. 

His thick ropes paints your walls, as he rocks against you slowly, forcing his cum deeper and deeper, your name leaving your lips again and again — reverent whispers and promises muttered in your ear, as he finally stills underneath you. 

You’re leaning against him, mixed releases surely leaking onto his lap and the chair, both of your quiet pants filling the silence, until he’s breaking it. He kisses your lips again and again, before he stares at you — kiss bruised lips and the pretty sheen of sweat that clings to your skin, “It’s not fair you’re this perfect,” he murmurs, a thumb dragging down your lips, “how would I have ever resisted you?” 

“Luckily, the universe did that for us,” and he huffs a chuckle, “and you,” you add in a small whisper, and he frowns, nodding. 

“I did and I never will again, I promise, sweetheart,” he’s pressing sweet kisses to your burning skin, pulling you impossibly closer to him, your face buried in the crook of his neck, “I’m yours — yours to keep, yours to use, yours to love — you have my heart and my soul,” he’s cupping your cheek when you lift your head, “and I’ll never let go, because you’re the only answer to life I need, if you’ll allow to be yours,” 

“You were always mine,” your forehead pressed to his, “that’s never changed, and it never will,” 

“You always one up me, don’t you?” And you roll your eyes. 

“The student has to surpass the master someday, doesn’t she?” his lips curl. 

“Oh you’ve done that a long time ago, Princess,” his lips graze yours again and again, and soon enough you’re shifting on his lap, until the chair buckles under the weight and the seat travels to the bottom of where it’s wheels rested. The two of you are silent a moment, before a giggle escapes your lips, “I think you’ll have to get a new chair,” you murmur, and he’s chuckling, burying his face in the crook of your neck. 

“Why not the chair and the desk?” And you’re blinking before he’s lifting you up, before making you turn, pressing your front flush against the wood of the desk, “and if I’m getting new furniture, I might as well use this to its full capacity, shouldn’t I?” And he’s dragging his erection across your ass, “really make sure it’s broken,”

You gasp, walls fluttering as his tip teased your messy entrance, “don’t you need broken in—“ and he bottoms out in one thrust, as he presses his body against yours, lips pressing a kiss to the back of your neck, before his teeth dig into the sensitive flesh. 

And he smirks as he hears you moan under him, as he soothes the blooming hickey with his tongue, “No, I meant broken, sweetheart.”

“Suguru!” You called from his bedroom, as he smoothed his hair out in the bathroom mirror, a glance over his shoulder at the sound of your voice, “can you come help me?” 

And how could he refuse? He steps out of the bathroom to only find you struggling with your Hakama. The formal garment hangs uselessly around your front, your brow furrowed and lips pursed. 

He suppresses his laugh, forcing his tone to be even. 

“Does my incredibly brilliant girlfriend need help with her hood?” Your pout is enough for him to nearly break his promise that he wouldn’t kiss you when your makeup was done, but he doesn’t. Instead he takes the offending garment from around your neck, and you cross your arms. 

“I can handle reading Hegel’s works — The Phenomenology of Spirit was irritating but doable,” and you scowl at the Hakama in his hand, “but that thing was made to torture,” 

He snorts, “Consider it your last trial before graduation,” 

“No, my last is seeing if my thesis was peer reviewed and accepted for publication somewhere,” you sigh, “I still have to make the edits—“ 

“That can be a later problem, just focus on the moment right now,” he steps behind you after adjusting the Hakama and tying it around the back and front to secure it, before pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “and now you look both beautiful and properly dressed,” 

His arms wrap around your waist from behind, “Sugu, we have to leave soon,” 

“Just a minute, just let this sink in,” he kisses the side of your neck, “have I told you how proud I am of you?” 

“Hmm, just about every second of the last few days,” you lean against him, and nothing ever felt so perfect — his arms were the only ones you belonged in. 

And yet, why did that thought also hurt? 

“What is iy, baby?” Suguru murmurs, ever too perceptive as always, “something on your mind,” 

“More like someone,” you mumble, and you’re laying your head against his shoulder, “I can’t help but feel guilty — Yuta and I just broke up and I’m—“ you’re shaking your head, “I’m so happy, and I hate myself for it,” 

Suguru frowns, “I don’t know Yuta well, but I know he did love you, the same way I do, and I can’t speak for him,” but then he’s squeezing your middle, “but as someone who loves you, I’d want you to be with someone who could make could make you happy,” you kiss his head, “and isn’t that why he broke up with you? You both deserve that chance — even if it’s not each other.” 

“When did you get so smart?” and he pulls you impossibly closer, kissing along the neckline of your kimono. 

“Somewhere between my bachelor’s degree and being your professor,” he adds with his lips curled in a smirk, “though I’d err closer to the time of being your professor,” 

Your head against his shoulder, you lean up for a kiss, as he blinks, before melting into your touch, as you pull back with a grin, “it’s ok if I initiate the kiss,” you chuckle when you catch sight of his pout, “don’t worry I’ll be giving you plenty after the ceremony — and maybe something even more than a kiss,” 

“Is that a promise?” And you tug him close, pressing another kiss to his lips — your lips were already smudged, so why hold back. 

“Always, for you.” 

Yuta knew it was for the best. 

It had been a few weeks that he spent mourning his relationship — but he knew that it was the right choice for him. He had chased after you, it felt as if he was dogging your every step, waiting for you to notice him. And when you did, he still felt as he was your second choice — and that he would live in Geto’s shadow for the entirety of the relationship. 

And he didn’t want that. He didn’t deserve that — and neither did you. More than anything, he wanted you to be happy — even if that wasn’t with him. 

It was for the best. 

And the start to the new semester just proved that. He was starting his final year of his program, he had become the head of the student government (after Maki decided to step down to a more administrative role to focus on her degree), and he had even become a teacher’s assistant to one of his favorite professors. He didn’t have time to focus on a relationship, not when he should be focusing on his future. 

He entered the classroom that day, a little early on his professor’s request to set up the classroom with handouts, only to bump into someone, papers spilling from his hands. 

“Sorry, I—” he leans down to pick up the dropped papers, before glancing up and finds himself looking at just that—

His future. 

A few months later. 

“You’re late,” Suguru Geto remarks, as he shows you his watch on his wrist — the very one you had bought him for his birthday a few weeks before, “but I should expect that by now, shouldn’t I?”

You give a guilty grin, as you find your way to his side, sliding your hands up around his neck, “Yes you should, especially when your girlfriend is a very important lecturer who was kept by all her students — jealous?” 

And he chuckles, his hair tied up in a half bun as usual, your fingers toying with a strand again, before he’s lacing with fingers with yours to press a kiss to the back of your hand, “Very — because your students are stealing my time with my very intellectual girlfriend,” and he leans down to press a kiss to the hollow of your throat, “it sounds like it was a success — I knew it would be,” he adds, “but someone else wasn’t so sure,” 

You roll your eyes playfully, “Yes, yes, you were right — the students found my work interesting, or at least interesting enough not to fall asleep and ask questions—” 

“High praise,” and your lips curl into a smile, “What?” 

“I love you,” he grins back at you, a chuckle on his lips, as he leans down to capture them, his smile apparent against you, as he parts from you, a heat still present in the pit of your stomach, a need for him burning as it always was, “I love you so much, Suguru,” 

“I love you too, princess,” he’s rubbing his thumb back and forth against the length of your cheek, “Good thing too because otherwise, moving in together would be more than a little awkward,” and you pout, and he’s laughing before kissing you again and again, until he’s kissing your pout away with a languid kiss that has you melting into his grasp — breathless when he pulls away, lips utterly kiss ruined and red, “they should be calling us into the viewing soon,” he bites his lip,and you’re nodding reluctantly if only considering whether if you could sway him for another few moments alone. Instead you settle for burying your face in the crook of his neck, lips brushing against his leaping pulse, “you’re sure about moving to Kyoto? I had only chosen Kyoto to give you space—” 

You cut him off with a glance up and a raised eyebrow, “You’re the one who said I could choose, and I chose Kyoto because not only is it a good opportunity for you here to build your reputation as the department head, but because it’s a fresh start for us,” 

His fingers lace with yours, “Well if they keep asking you to lecture in Tokyo, you might develop a commute,” and you roll your eyes, before shrugging. 

“I can handle it,” you squeeze his hand, “as long as I'm coming home to you.” 

“And a cat or a poodle,”and you light up, grinning even wider, “we should ask if they allow pets,” 

“Really? We can—” 

“I heard poodles are a good choice of pet,” and you’re leaning up to kiss him, arms wrapping around his neck, “I made an appointment for at an adoption center after this,” 

“Mr. Geto?” a person comes out of the leasing office, “we’re ready for you both,” 

And you pull away, your fingers interlacing with yours and squeezing his hand, “Are you ready?” 

His lips curl in a smile, “I think we owe it to ourselves, don’t we? Especially they agreed to take us for our viewing after you were late,” 

And you chuckle, as the two of you made your way inside, “I swear you’re going to leave without me one of these days if I’m late enough,” 

“No, I’d never do that. I’ll always wait for you, sweetheart,” he holds the door open for you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “we have all the time in the world after all.” And you grin at him as you walk past him, his fingers reaching into his pocket. 

He had found out his answer to life — watching you greet and speak with the agent, before glancing back at him with a small smile and tilt of your head — his fingers toy with the ring box in his pocket— 

And now he just needed to know yours.  

END. 

Yuta’s own love story will be coming after Professor Gojo’s! 

✧a/n: wow i'm still in disbelief i finished this series. this is my first series on tumblr, and i truly hope you all enjoyed. this part was wayyyy longer than i expected. but i hope i did the series justice.

✧ taglist: @hatsunemitskislobotomy, @difficultdomains, @diogodxlot, @that-goth-bisexual, @dazailover1900, @aliyalala @ashhlsstuff , @blue041803 , @mwtsxri , @bblgumfairy , @sukunasleftkneecap , @xo-evangeline , @fiannee , @teatreeoilll , @chalametet , @ryukaver , @d1gitalbathh , @saga3ious , @seventhcinema , @satosugucide , @your-l0nely-star , @sokkasmoon , @deegausserr , @hyookka , @oggsyy , @littlebitb , @higuchislut , @ti-mame , @itoshisins , @cerene-dipity , @onionsoop , @sinlillith , @izzythenaive , @lalacute03 , @rxndou , @c-themoon , @xxrag-d0llxx , @hqtoge , @sugarxlumps , @hopeluna , @actualdeemon , @enchantedpendant , @serendididy , @soulstealercat , @neuviloved , @simply-a-s1mp , @satorusmochis , @lalacute03

[weepingwillowwonder]

#9.5 Hazbin Hotel "Things I ✨️LOVE✨️ the idea of..." (because I can't share these things with people irl...)

[Minors DNI! 🔞] -> -> ->

Valentino x Reader x Angel Dust

CW: Making out, Drying humping, Fingering, Oral sex, Dirty talk, A bit of desperation, Orgasm denial, Val being Val

What happens when Val catches his favorite actor and his favorite pet together? [Part 2!!!]

(Here is Part 1...)

---

Obediently following along, you were silently plotting in your head. There's no way he doesn't know what you and Angel were up to behind closed doors. So what was the best way to de-escalate this situation? 

Valentino allows you and Angel to enter the space first, before closing and locking the door behind you. In his “office,” there’s a traditional desk and computer setup in the corner and a small couch positioned conveniently in front of a queen size bed. Stalking over to the loveseat he takes a seat, crossing one set of his arms and lighting a cigarette with the others. “So tell me..” Valentino purrs, observing you both carefully, “What were my little juguetes doing behind closed doors, hm?” 

The room is silent. Both of you trying to figure out what to say. Your mouth opens to respond but Angel beats you to it, hands raised in surrender. “Look Val, we didn’t mean to-” he glances over at you, his voice slightly cracking out of nerves. “W-we just got carried away! You know how it is…” You nodded along before adding in, “We’re sorry…” Valentino takes his time blowing smoke into the air, eyes never leaving you and says, “Show me.” 

The confusion on your faces must have been obvious, because he repeats himself, something Valentino hardly ever does. “I want you..” he purrs, pointing at you both before raising his hands, “..to show me what you were doing. Just act like I’m not even here, as you were.” As he leans back to get himself comfortable, you and Angel glance at each other. “My patience is wearing thin, so don’t test me.” 

“Okay! Okay…” Angel sighs before giving you a gentle smile, offering his hand to you. Timidly, you peek over to Valentino before accepting it. He leads you to the bed and sits down, bringing you to stand in between his legs. Angel understands how nervous you are, anyone would be with how unpredictable Valentino could be. But if Valentino was looking for a show, he’d get a show.

Reaching for your other hand, Angel rubs soothing circles along the back of your hands as he looks into your eyes. His other set of hands move to embrace your cheeks, and lean in to press his lips against yours. You grab his shoulders as you get lost in the kiss, moaning as his grip pulls you to straddle his lap. When his tongue presses against your lips, you open readily, whining in the open mouthed kiss. Your hips have a hard time sitting still, wiggling and grinding against the growing hardness beneath you.

Across the room, Valentino chuckles quietly to himself. ‘Leave it up to a bit of kissing to get you hot and needy. Necesitado puta..’ he thinks. Laying back on the sofa he makes himself comfy, watching you desperately hump against Angel and grab onto him wherever you could. His eye trailed down as Angel grabs your ass and pulls you against him, his own hips bucking up into you. 

When you pull away from the kiss panting, Valentino calls out in a low voice, making you both turn to look at him, “Angel~” a hand reaches down to palm his growing erection. Your lips part slightly as you watch him touch himself. When your eyes flicker up to his, you’re met with a knowing smirk. Valentino goes from stroking himself to full on pumping his cock through his pants. Involuntarily your hips buck against Angel’s, pulling a gasp from you. “Angel,” Valentino teasingly calls out again, “Don’t keep mi bebe waiting..~”

Angel leans in to press a gentle kiss to your temple and murmurs, pulling your attention back to him. “How do you want me baby?” He takes the hint as you bare your neck to him, placing wet kisses down your neck. “Come on sweetheart, tell me...” Arching against him, you gasp out, “M-my mouth..! Please can I suck your cock?” His hands wander and squeeze against your body before giving you the same breathless response, “Yeah…yeah baby, whatever you want…” 

He scoots back in the bed and leans back slightly to give you room, helping you pull down his shorts. For a brief moment, you forget Valentino is even watching. Your hands slide up Angel’s thighs and immediately go to nuzzle his cock before licking a stripe along the side. You watch as it jumps slightly at the attention and wrap your lips around the tip. 

Angel grips the sheets beneath him and hisses as your tongue presses against the slit of his cock while you suck on the tip. As your lips slip further and further down him, his hips fly forward, mistakenly choking you. His head throws back feeling your throat constrict around him and lets out a high pitch moan. When his head tilts back down to look at you, Valentino catches his eye, moving in behind you.

You’re so busy bobbing your head along Angel’s cock that you don’t hear him get up. Pulling out a bottle of lube from a drawer, Valentino stalks over to the bed, maintaining full eye contact with Angel. When he reaches the bed, he smacks your ass that’s been wiggling in the air and firmly grabs a fistful of your hair, pushing you further on Angel’s cock. Your muffled moan, spurred him on more, using you to get Angel off.

Valentino braces his weight on the bed as he moves closer, silently watching. Angel's moans start to get higher in pitch, hips meeting your mouth as Valentino still controls the pace. Hands gripping the sheets beneath him, Angel starts whimpering, “F-fuck..getting close..”

Waiting for the exact moment before Angel cums, Valentino yanks your head away with one hand and grips the base of Angel's cock with another, earning a loud gasp from you both. Your eyes fly open to see your spit trailing from Angel and the frustrated look on his face from being denied release. One of Angel's hands quickly reaches to hold onto Valentino but is slapped away. 

“No no..” Valentino purrs, “This is what happens when you try to play with things that aren't yours~” Two of his hands fiddle with your bottoms and slide them down your legs, lifting you slightly to yank them off. Still trying to catch your bearings, you fall over unto Angel, gripping his shoulders for support. Instinctively, two of his arms reach out to catch and hold you steady. For a second, you both stare into the other's eyes, panting heavily. 

Suddenly, Valentino spreads your ass, teasing the entrance of your hole with his thumbs. You let out a wanton moan and arch into his hands. Valentino leans over your back with a hand snaking up to grab your chin. He lets go of your ass and instead, a lubed finger circles against your hole before slowly pressing in. Simultaneously, his hand holding onto Angel’s length tightens almost painfully, making him cry out. “This,” he spits out, leaning in close to your ear, but speaking to you both. Another finger presses deep into your hole with his words, making you whimper his name,  “..is mine.” He slides two fingers into your mouth, pressing down against your tongue. 

“This?” He breathes out, loosening his grip on Angel and teasingly stroking him, rubbing his thumb along the tip, “...​​esto es mio.” He growls as he full-on fingers you now, the wet slapping sound filling the room. At this point, you’re begging for more, babbling muffled by the fingers shoved in your mouth. It doesn’t take long before Angel is also begging after being so close before, but this time it’s for forgiveness. “Please Val! Please, ‘m sorry…! ‘M so fuckin’ sorry!” 

Valentino’s free hand comes around to cup between your legs, allowing you to rut yourself against him. He murmurs in your ear, encouraging you, “Eso es bueno bebe…” His fingers continue their pace, even as your hole flutters around them. Knowing you’re getting close, he changes the angle and curls his fingers just right to continually hit that sweet spot inside of you. 

Immediately your eyes roll back as the overwhelming pleasure hits you. The hand on Angel’s cock speeds up, also trying to bring him to the edge. With you both whining for him, Valentino has you and Angel exactly where he wants you. Right before you both crash into your orgasm, he firmly gives the command. “Come for me.” 

Angel finishes first, still sensitive from being denied release earlier. His hips rut up against Valentino’s hand, pulling at the sheets under him.. Choking out a moan as his cock throbs, he spills onto himself and on you. Watching Angel come undone pushes you over the edge. Feeling his hot cum making a mess against your thigh, your hole grips Valentino’s fingers tightly as your release also drips onto the sheets beneath you. His fingers fuck you through your orgasm as he lazily continues to milk Angel through his, making sure you both were fully spent. 

Valentino’s fingers slip from you, and he lets you go, watching you collapse on each other as he stands tall next to the bed. Feeling him pull away so quickly you stumble as you crawl over to him. Angel watches silently as he catches his breath, eyes flickering to Valentino’s, holding eye contact. Amused, Valentino lights a cigarette and waits as you try to pull on his clothes to get to the hardness between his legs. When you croak out his name with tears in your eyes, his grin widens, looking down at you, “Tan ansioso~”  He coos as he cups your face with a hand before blowing smoke in it. Suddenly pushing you back onto the bed, he speaks to you and Angel with a dangerous purr in his voice, “This is your one and only warning. Mis juguetes don’t play together unless I say so. Next time, I won’t be so nice. Get me?”

---

Fun fact: My favorite part of writing Val is figuring out what words I want him to say in Spanish~

[tonyspank]

LOST IN THE FIRE

black!singer!reader x jenna ortega (they/them pronouns, but there’s mentions of them having a pp, lol)

warnings: fluff and a tiny bit of angst i guess, my poor attempts at humor again, social media w a bit of irl

a/n: i’ve always wanted to do a social media book. so this is just something fun i came up with, i hope you enjoy :) it’s also a way i can put u guys onto my fav songs 🤭

faceclaim: khalil beth

Is Percy Hynes White Dating Jenna Ortega?

Jenna and Percy have yet to confirm or deny dating rumors, but they have posted many cute cast photos of one another on Instagram. On top of that, Jenna took Percy as her plus one date for the 2023 Golden Globes — and they're set to star in a movie together!

━━━━ iMESSAGE

3 talented artists + jack lani - kehlani jackie - jack tae - matteo

lani Y/N sweetie..

jackie 🙁

tae what'd i miss??

jackie Y/N's fav ex is dating an ugly man 🥺

tae JENNA? NAHH

tae let's hope she leave him too 🤞

tae she'll miss the bbc 🥲

lani omg wdf 😭😭

you ...

jackie now the dots was a lil dramatic

lani JACK 😭😭

you jack stfu before i shave ur beard

tae got his ass

lani LMFAOO

jackie 🤐

tae ok ok but Y/N how are u rn?

lani frr like talk to us

you wdym?

you we broke up why would i be bothered

jackie

🤨

tae 💀💀

lani i've never met anyone who still likes their exes posts

you it's called being mature

you i am able to support her regardless of what happened

tae it's called being delusional

jackie laughed at "it's called being delusional"

jackie i have an idea

jackie

tae fam what is ur camera roll? 💀

lani what's ur idea jack

jackie i'm gonna ask demi for an invite to the scream 6 premiere

jackie then me and Y/N gon jump percy in front of jenna right

lani

side-eye…

jackie and then jenna gon be like

jackie oh my god not my mans getting his ass beat by my ex & their bsf tf

you please stfu 🙏

jackie bro

jackie i'm tryna help you save ur gf from a guy who looks like the definition of pervert

tae laughed at "i'm tryna help you safe ur gf from a guy who looks like the definition of pervert"

lani 😭😭😭😭

lani i can't breathe

you it's literally just a rumor that they're dating tho

you & i'm not going to the premiere

jackie mhm

━━━━

y/nhart posted on Instagram.

Liked by jackharlow, devyn_nekoda, and 7,891,103 others

y/nhart what's your favorite scary movie? 🔪 #ScreamVI @screammovies

View all 12,793 comments

screammovies You, of course. 🔪🩸 > y/nhart can we kiss?

jackharlow what did you say in the group chat? > y/nhart that jack harlow is a flop 🤫

user15 bro doing everything but dropping an album 💀 > user1 ong. right my wrongs ep was amazing but it's been 8 months 😭

mrmatteo where was my invite? > y/nhart drop a song then let's talk > user3 what a hypocrite 💀

user8 bite me

kehlani you could never be ghostface > screammovies Its always someone you know. 👻🔪🩸

user11 GO TO THE STUDIO

user992 i have $1,000 frank will drop before this mf

user90 MORE JENNA AND Y/N CONTENT??? > user78 i missed them :')

━━━━

            Your eyes were starting to water due to the number of flashes from the cameras that were going off around you. The bright lights made it difficult to keep your eyes open, but you knew that this was just part of being in the spotlight.

  Jack places a hand on your arm, slightly shoving you towards the exit. You ignore the yells of your name and continue to make your way off the carpet.

Your bodyguard, who had been standing nearby, steps in to create a path through the crowd, shielding you and Jack from the relentless paparazzi.

  "Did you talk to Jenna?" Jack asks, leaning close enough for his voice to be heard.

You send the bearded man a glare, shaking your head. "No. I don't even think she's walked the carpet yet."

Jack raises an eyebrow before turning his head to the carpet, which is still filled with celebrities and flashing cameras.

He scans the area, searching for any sign of Jenna among the chaos. He then turns back to you with a smirk on his lips. "I think you're just ducking her."

You roll your eyes at Jack's teasing remark.

"Please, like I have time to play hide and seek with Jenna. I'm just trying to avoid the relentless paparazzi."

You gesture towards the swarm of photographers jostling for the perfect shot.

Jack hums, his smile widening. A thought clicks into his head, causing his smile to drop.

"Oh, yeah! I talked to Melissa, and she is fine as fuck."

You thin out your lips. Jack probably didn't know she was married.

"I'll tell her husband you said that."

"You know what they say. Don't let your husband distract you from finding the love of your life."

You chuckle at his joke.

━━━━

"May I say you look amazing tonight?" The interviewer states, smiling as they admire your appearance.

You smile, bringing your hands together to calm yourself before responding.

"Thank you so much."

"Are you a big fan of the Scream franchise?" The interviewer asks, moving their microphone closer.

You nod, your eyes lighting up with excitement.

"Absolutely! Ghostface is such an iconic character, and I love the twists that they put in the movie. It just always keeps you on your toes."

The interviewer chuckles, sharing your enthusiasm. "I completely agree! The Scream franchise has definitely left a lasting impact on the horror genre with its clever storytelling and memorable characters. Speaking of memorable characters, whose is your favorite?"

You pause for a moment, looking up at the sky as you bite down on your lip.

"Uhh... It's hard to choose just one, but if I had to pick, I would say Roman Bridger. I didn't suspect him at all, and his reveal as the mastermind behind everything in Scream 3 was a total shock. Plus, Scott Foley's performance was absolutely chilling."

The interviewer nods, appreciating your choice. "I couldn't agree more. He's surely one to remember."

You nod again, smiling. "For sure. I've always wanted to play Ghostface. Taking off the mask and revealing your plan must be so fun."

The interviewer laughs and says, "I'm sure you'd do great."

Before you could respond with a thank you, the interviewer speaks up.

"Jenna! It's so nice to see you." You turn to see Jenna, your heart dropping at the sight of her.

You force a tight-lipped smile at the brunette. "Hey Jenna, long time no see," you say, trying to sound casual.

Deep down, you can't help but wonder if she still thinks about you.

Jenna returns the smile. "Yeah, it's been a while," she replies softly.

Memories of your past together flood your mind, and you can't help but wonder if there's still a chance for reconciliation.

"You guys are so stunning, I can't even!" The interviewer gushes, snapping you out of your thoughts.

Jenna chuckles, her eyes meeting yours briefly before she turns her attention back to the interviewer.

"Jenna, I've gotta ask. Are you a fan of Y/N's music?" Jenna nods her head, glancing at you again before answering.

"I am. They're very talented musically, and I'm waiting for another album."

You try to fight back a smile, but it fails miserably. The interviewer notices your failed attempt to hide your smile and chuckles.

"Seems like there's mutual admiration here," they remark, noticing the subtle connection between you and Jenna.

You tilt your head, shrugging a bit. "I guess you could say that. Jenna's very talented herself, both musically and in acting."

Jenna feels the butterflies in her stomach erupt as you compliment her.

She's missed you, and she wants nothing more than to reconnect with you. She blushes slightly and responds, "Thank you."

━━━━

You walk over to Jenna, interrupting her conversation with Percy. "Jenna."

Jenna turns towards you, a surprised expression on her face as she pauses mid-sentence.

"Come home with me?"

Jenna's eyes widen as she processes your unexpected request, leaving her momentarily speechless.

After a brief moment of hesitation, she nods slowly, her curiosity piqued. "Sure, why not? Let's go."

Percy furrows his eyebrows, watching you and Jenna walk off together.

When you arrive home, you take off your jacket and help Jenna with hers.

Jenna mumbles a thank you before making herself comfortable on the couch.

She looks around the unfamiliar surroundings, seeing as you've changed a few things since the last time she was there.

Jenna's eyes linger on a Polaroid of you and her, capturing a happy memory from months ago. Of course, Jenna still loved you, but was she ready to take the risk of getting hurt again?

She couldn't bear the fact that things might not work out between you two, causing more heartbreak.

Fame had always been a double-edged sword for Jenna. While it had brought her success and recognition, it also came with constant scrutiny and pressure.

It's what ruined you two. Jenna being constantly busy due to acting and you constantly being busy due to singing made it difficult for you both to find quality time together.

Despite the love that still existed between you, the demands of your respective careers created a growing distance that neither of you knew how to bridge.

You walk into the living room, two glasses of wine in your hand. "Actually," Jenna speaks up, and you raise your eyebrows in anticipation.

She continues, "Could we sit on your balcony?"

You nod, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Of course," you say, leading the way to the balcony.

As you settle into the comfortable chairs, the city lights twinkling below, Jenna takes a deep breath and says, "I miss moments like this, just being together without any distractions."

You take a sip of your wine, pausing to savor the flavor before responding. "Me too," you say, gazing out at the night sky.

"I missed you."

Jenna's eyes soften, and she reaches over to gently touch your lap. "I missed you too," she whispers.

"I hope you know that I'm not dating Percy."

"I know," you reply, a small smile forming on your lips. "I knew you wouldn't downgrade like that."

Jenna chuckles softly, her dimples beginning to show. "That's hilarious."

A silence falls over the two of you.

"I couldn't imagine being with anyone other than you," you snap your head towards her, your heart swelling with love at words.

She always knew the right thing to say.

"You're the only one who truly understands me, Y/N." Jenna's eyes meet yours, her brown pupils glistening in the moonlight.

"I can't find myself being vulnerable or trusting with anyone else." She finishes off, breaking away from your gaze.

You don't say anything, you just place your hand over top of hers, which was resting on your lap.

━━━━

y/nhart posted on Instagram.

Liked by jennaortega, jackharlow, kehlani, bnyx, and 13,829,100 others

y/nhart 12...??...23...lost in the fire...earned it...all mine...confident...all mine...oui...greece...get me...kiss land...for free

➕➕➕.

meltdown...i'd do anything to make you smile...boyfriend,girlfriend...rambo...let em'know

@chancetherapper @djkhaled @kehlani @travisscott @jackharlow @feliciathegoat @theweeknd @bnyx

View all 46,829 comments

user12 OMFG BRUH

user99 AOTY

jackharlow deluxe 🔜

bnyx 👨‍🍳🔥🎶

theweeknd 🫡

user77 couldve had better feats tbh > user880 STFU

djkhaled 🔥🔥🔥 WE'LL NEVER STOP 🛑!!! 

>user14 TELL EM BRING OUT THE ALBUM ALREADY

user67 i'm about to cry.

━━━━

y/nsrealwife posted on Instagram.

18,782 likes

y/nsrealwife i stand by what i said

View all 138 comments

user11 unknown? it's jenna😭 > y/nrealwife me when i'm delusional

user45 there's no misses on the album + they ate down in the deluxe > user89 came in my pants when they came on the track w that "t-time, t-time, t-time.."

user66 can we talk abt for free? bro had like 10 viagra pills before pulling up to the studio > user77 💀💀💀

jackharlowsbeard kehlani & jack on the album made me so happy.

━━━━

y/nhart posted on Instagram.

Liked by jennaortega, jackharlow, mrmatteo, kehlani, arianagrande, and 17,839,138 others

y/nhart mega christmas dump 🎄@jennaortega @jackharlow @mrmatteo @kehlani

Comments have been limited.

tonyspank had to put it in a collage due to the 10 photo limit 🙁

—

jennaortega has posted a story.

[madockisser]

justin duarte appearance assumption

i think that holly black was watching spanish dramas/telenovelas when writing the justin duarte/eva duarte/madoc love triangle, bc a beautiful woman leaving her sexy husband for another sexy guy to go live a better life just screams the plot of a spanish drama show

anyway i imagine justin duarte as this absolute looker, seeing as his appearance isn’t described…

jude says that justin would never raise a hand to even discipline the girls, and madoc says that justin was interesting and strange, personality wise.

justin refused college,(it totally caught me off guard when madoc mentioned college bc WHY does he know what college is LOLL 😭 unless eva mentioned it or smth) and chose to #studytheblade

a human woman snuck him into museums at night so he could study ancient blades (bro prob seduced her (or he was just so fine) like why she out here risking her job for nothing(but i get it babe))

he traveled to fairfold to discover grimsen and asked grimsen his opinion on justin’s work, then made his way to elfhame at some point where he met madoc and eva and worked at madocs estate crafting blades since he was the greatest human smith in the land (and could’ve been the greatest smith ever if he kept practicing but gave it up for eva, which i think is so bittersweet)

anyway, i always imagined him young and naive since he was dumb enough to brag abt stealing madocs wife (i would too king)

but overall a sweet loving dad, and a caring husband, willing to do anything to protect his family. (including burning a pregnant humans body w eva, assuming they did that together, and also trying to take madoc down when he came to their house)

this is how i imagine him younger, in the 90s or so, working at madocs estate (the actor is not latino but this is sorta just how i imagine his appearance)

but as he grew older and continued #weldingtheblade and also being a father and a sexy husband, i imagine him as:

the man here is a mexican actor (and from the 60s or something), but i forgot his name since i made this post ages ago and just now am editing it 😭

for the younger pics, i wanted him to look more boyish, and in both pics i also wanted to atleast attempt to encapture the fact that he is canon latino, (which is crucial to include, but i imagine him w darker skin, it was just absolutely impossible to find a match that looked like irl flyyn rider(which is how i imagined him during the book) but w darker skin) and i imagined him having wavy/ curly hair!

since the duarte twins had wavy/curly hair as well, i imagined both him and eva having wavy / curly hair.

and ofc i wanted to find a reference that was super good looking bc i also imagine madoc being super good looking, so it sorta makes sense why eva and him started screwing around (looking past the logical reasons lol)

anyway here’s mr steal your girl! i’m not sure if anyone actually gaf abt him (and precanon tcp in general) but i sure do!! and since i made an eva version i wanted to make a version for him.

lastly i just wanted to add that these are ofc opinion based, especially since, again, his appearance isn’t mentioned at all. i just love speculating on all tfota characters, esp such important ones that had little page time! if u imagine them differently, which i’m sure u do as everyone is subjective, then great! feel free to add on or speculate in the comments!

[butch-reidentified]

Yet another time someone has sent me a screenshot from this random woman spreading 100% baseless, very obviously made-up ('i wonder if") bs about me due to who knows what deep unfulfilled need of hers, though she's never had the spine to come for me directly in any capacity. I so do not understand why I'm coming up again now, given I've not been on tumblr much for months, but 🤷

I'm not going to tag her like I usually would bc I have less than zero desire to invite that toxicity into my life so directly atp (I've @ ed her in the past when she started doing this ages ago), but I am gonna say something ab both the accusations she makes/spreads and ab the behavior itself.

She's been spreading unhinged rumors about me being into men for literal years, including accusing me of fucking my brother, and apparently doesn't find it at all fucked up to be harassing a lesbian trafficking survivor with literally COMPLETELY baseless accusations of sex with m*n (which I have never remotely desired and as I've literally made memes about, would sooner die) just bc I didn't think her treatment of macroclit was entirely fair, as the person who had actually known macroclit for years irl before even being on radblr. I don't necessarily think I would do/say all the exact same things now that I did at that time, for deeply personal reasons I don't owe anybody an explanation of, but that doesn't justify any of the toxicity on her part.

I don't think it's acceptable or even non-lesbophobic to act like lesbians need to be a complete monolith when it comes to their experiences with bi women and views. Nothing I ever said claimed lesbians can be into men or anything of the sort, nor supported polilez, and outside of shit like that, I don't think we need to all have the exact same takes on every single issue down to the smallest nuances.

I also don't think it's acceptable or feminist to completely invent and spread rumors about other women like some wannabe Regina George, as if women don't face enough of that stereotype already. Especially if these rumors undeniably play on themes of your target's trauma history. Especially when you yourself certainly know you're completely inventing said rumors, that they're purely weird parasocial (& blatantly dishonest) speculation.

yes, macroclit is my ex, and we were friends after dating but never "fwb." we did not "meet up and have 3sums," we met up and watched movies and went clubbing, and we have not even slept together since like a couple of years before she realized she was into guys. yes i had a "poly" experimental phase in/around my college years - and I'll admit I didn't formally & vocally end said phase until long after it had materially ended - but this was with exclusively other women, as should be fucking obvious, and frankly was mostly in name only; I just never had any meaningful urge to seek out more partners, and tbqh have never had a very high sex drive. I don't fuck anyone but my wife atp & very much don't want to (nor did I want to feel like I had to air my entire sexual history on tumblr to thousands of ppl).

idk what need is being fulfilled by doing shit like this, i rly cannot fathom it & have never in my life engaged in this behavior toward any other woman. in all honesty, I thought it was just a fully fictional misogynistic stereotype that women do this at all, bc I've never known anyone who does. I've seen rumors spread ofc but usually airing ppls real dirt or exaggerating it, not just lying outright. wild.

all that said, if you want to go toe to toe regarding actual irl feminist action, lmk. otherwise, fix your own shit and drop your obsession w imagining me liking d*ck, it's super creepy and weird.

[calholic]

idk if you'd be ok w this but tom kaulitz x female reader highschool au?

T. KAULITZ x READER

★ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: you go to high school with the tom kaulitz

★ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: mentions of alcohol, swearing, cigarettes, extreme bullying

★ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: someone had a similar req to this where reader gets bullied so i tried adding some of that into here ❤️ also i feel like i add angst to all my stories 😭 ik i’m making tom sound like a bad guy in these stories which can make people feel that way about him irl (ahem my living nightmare) but plz guys im just doing it for the angst i swear im not a tom anti haha

you’ve know tom and bill since forever, i mean the three of you have been together since elementary school. they were both really different now with tom being a massive player and bill being, well, bill. you guys were now in high school and you would like to say it got easier but it didn’t. you were constantly harassed by tom’s fangirls which was unbearable. obviously you’ve talked to tom about it but he ended up being honored that his fans were so loyal. “stay away from tom, pick me,” you hear a girl say as you walked down the hall. these girls would never say anything to your face, only spew hate from behind your back.

you ignored them all of course but it was still annoying. “your fangirls are at it again,” you said to tom as you sat down in your first hour class. “i’m flattered,” he said half-heartedly, looking down on his phone, texting. tom had been texting a lot lately and you were curious. “who’re you texting? you been at it all week,” you asked. “some girl i met last week while shopping with bill,” he said. “oh,” you replied, looking down at your desk. you’ve had a crush on tom since middle school and hearing about his new love interests really hurt. “i think she might be the one, i’m meeting with her tonight,” he said smiling, totally ignoring your sudden change of emotion.

you were silent for the rest of class and left early, leaving without waiting for tom like you usually did. you went to go confide with bill later at lunch. “ugh it’s just so annoying hearing him talk about other girls,” you said sighing. “why don’t you just confess then?” bill asked. “you don’t get, it’s way more complicated than that. i mean, he doesn’t even like me!” you said. “you never know~,” bill said. “why? did he said something about me?” you asked. “calm down, he didn’t say anything,” bill said, letting your hopes down. “ugh whatever, i’m going to class now,” you said before leaving.

you packed your bags as the dismissal bell rang, you would walk home with bill and tom since you guys lived nearby. you were still a little mad at tom but you wanted to wait for bill. you felt a water bottle lightly tap on your head and you turned around to see tom. “why’re you mad at me? is it because i talked about another girl?” he asked, smirking. “what did bill tell you?” you asked, annoyed that bill would tell tom. “what?” he asked confused. you might’ve just accidentally almost revealed your crush on tom so you quickly came up with a lame excuse. “what? no? of course not, bill told me you stole my bag of chips,” you said defensively.

“oh, yeah i forgot about that,” he said laughing. “hey guys, ready to go?” bill asked as he walked up to the two of you. “yeah, let’s go,” you said. the walk was pretty silent now as you thought of what tom would be doing with that girl tonight. it wasn’t fair that he was having all the fun meeting people and hooking up almost every night. you wanted to experience that fun too so when you got home you called your friend audrey, and asked if she knew anyone throwing a party. “oh yeah! i heard adrian’s hosting one at his dad’s house and i heard that it’s massive too,” she said. “cool! when is it?” you asked. “friday, wanna come over to get ready together?” she asked. “of course!” you replied.

it was late now and you were getting ready for bed before you heard a knock at your window, it was tom. “what do you want?” you asked. “can i come in?” he yelled from below. “whatever,” you said, walking back into your room. he quickly slipped in and laid on your bed. “she ditched me, i can’t believe her! how could you ditch such a hottie like me??” he said. “who wouldn’t?” you asked with a laugh. “what’s your problem?” tom looked at you with a serious expression now. “well let’s see, first your sho up to my house unannounced at 10pm, then you talk about your failed hookup, do i need to say more?” you asked. “you’ve been acting like a bitch lately,” he said. “i’m leaving,”

and with that tom left as quick as he came. you felt a little bad but you knew it needed to be addressed. the next day at school was rough, tom avoided you and the girls were even more relentless now as well. “what did you do to tom?” asked jessica, one of tom’s biggest fan girls. you couldn’t give her the time of day so you walked off.

“i’m not done talking!” she screamed. “i don’t care,” you replied. you weren’t having it and just wanted to go home, you were tired of everything and couldn’t take your mind off tom. you kept walking to your next class until school ended finally. you didn’t even wait for tom or bill and just went home by yourself, you even ran a little to avoid them. bill called you later and asked why you and tom weren’t talking. “some stuff happened last night and i’m honestly so tired of him now,” you explained. “come on now, you guys are like two peas in a pod!” he said. “not anymore,” you replied. you scrolled around and myspace and saw that tom had posted something. it was him at a party, probably from last night after he left your house. he was surrounded by girls which made you even more frustrated.

the party was one day away now and you were deciding your outfit, you were going to go all out. perhaps something slutty? you didn’t know yet, but you did know that you were going to get drunk and hook up. you met up with audrey to discuss friday before school started. “maybe a halter top?” she suggested. “ooh a miniskirt!” you added in. “i think i’ll wear my sequined tank top with a skirt,” she said. “i don’t know what i’m wearing yet,” you said putting your head down. “it’s okay, if you can’t find anything you can wear some of my clothes,” she said. “okay,” you said.

you walked into first hour, dreading it. you didn’t want to see tom, like at all. when you ed in, his desk was surrounded by girls as usual. one them gave you a dirty look as you walked up to your desk. you overheard what they were talking about and tom was telling them about what you said. that bitch, you couldn’t believe he was telling people, and his fangirls at that, your guys’ personal business. you knew you wouldn’t be able to live it down from them so you just put your headphones in and head down. your jaded your head when classed started and you swore you’d as tom smirking at you as the girls started dissipating.

when school ended you began walking before you felt someone grab your shoulder, it was tom and you wondered what he wanted. “we need to talk,” he said. “about what? how you’re telling your stupid fangirls about our business? they’re never going to leave me be now that they know that! but you don’t care do you? because you’re so selfish and only care about which girl you’re going to fuck next right?” you said. you left tom speechless and left before you gave him time to speak. you can’t believe you just let all your anger out on him like that. you tried not to feel bad because he deserved it but you still couldn’t help it. you quickly walked home after that’s hoping to avoid bill as well.

you wanted to drown now and never see anyone again. you took a nap and woke up to missed calls from bill, which you answered. “hello?” you asked. “______ i don’t know what going on with you and tom but it needs to end. you guys are best friends and can’t be on bad terms like this! i care about you two,” he said. “i love you bill but nothing is going to change my mind. anyways, see you at adrian’s?” you asked. “yeah whatever, bye,” he said. you put the phone down and got in the shower. it was late now but you decided to do homework before going to bed. you woke up the next, refreshed and ready, you felt very confident and ready for tonight. you met up with audrey to discuss plans and then went to first hour.

tom was already there and he waved at you, signaling he wanted to talk but you turned around immediately and went to go talk to someone else. school felt like forever but eventually it ended and you met up with audrey to go to her house. “okay, i’ll shower first and the i’ll start on makeup okay?” audrey confirmed. “sure,” you said as you sat down on her bed. soon enough she finished her shower and you got in.

the two of you finished your makeup and it was time to choose outfits. audrey ended up with a halter top and a low rise skirt while you wore a tupe top with the shortest skirt ever. you guys did hair as well and then left. adrian’s house was indeed hug and there were already people there. most were kids from school but others were from different ones too. you immediately saw tom on a couch, sitting next to a girl. you hate to say it but you were jealous, jealous that that girl wasn’t you. you brushed those thoughts away though and headed straight to the drinks you took shot after shot and drink and drink.

after a few minutes you were drunk and decided to mess around. you saw a cute boy and decided to approach him. “hey,” you said, slurring your words a little. he seemed to be i by you to by the look in his eye. “hey beautiful,” he replied. you noticed tom looking and a smile gee on your face. you took the boy into a random room and started making out with him. all of a sudden the lights turned off though and the boy got up. suddenly a bunch of girls appeared basically out of no where and started recording you half naked with their flashlights on.

they were yelling things like slut and whore. you soon recognized them to be tom’s little fangirls and you were so embarrassed. holding back tears, you got up and put your clothes back on but not before one of the girls approached you and started laughing in your face, calling you names. “you really think tom likes you? this is all your fault for breaking his heart,” she said. your tears were flowing now and you couldn’t control them, you tried to get up but one of the girls held you down. you thought it was over as the girls all started laughing and circling you until you heard a familiar voice, yet again it was tom. “what are you guys doing?” he yelled.

he shoved the girls aside and helped you up. you were no even more pissed at him since you knew this was his doing, all the fangirls, all the drama and all the gossip. you pulled your arm away from him and out your clothes on. “why are you mad at me? i get that we fought once but we usually get over it,” he asked. “are you fucking kidding me?” you asked frantically crying now and breathing heavy. “are you asking me this now? i’m mad because this is all your fault, i’m mad because the only reason this happened is because you decided to tell your fan girls our drama and i’m mad because i like you so much that i hate when you’re around other girls!” you shouted. tom was silent, only letting out a small “what?” your face was red from embarrassment and you ran out the door, straight to the exit.

you ran all the way home, as it started raining, your tears blending in. when you got home you went straight to your room, ignoring your mothers worried calls for your name. you took off your wet clothes and laid on your bed. you got a call from tom but ignored it along with calls from your other friends, you knew they all had the same question, “are you okay?” you were tired but lit a cigarette outside, looking at the moon before you dozed off to bed. the weekend passed and you stayed home during all of it. you didn’t want to go out and embarrass yourself more.

the video had now surfaced and everyone and their mothers have seen it. you were a joke now and it was all because of tom. “wake up ______ it’s time for school,” your mom said. “mom, i can’t go, you’ve seen the video right? i’m a joke,” you cried. “you’re only a joke if you let them make you out to be one. if you let them steak you down like this then you’ll never recover,” she said and she was right. even thought you didn’t want to, you got up for school. you walked into school and everyone looked at you, whispering things. you wanted to die.

tom was in first hour, sitting by himself surprisingly. you were halfway into the door before you guys made eye contact. he got up to approach but you instinctively ran away from him to go hug in the bathroom. you skipped all of first hour and hid away in a stall. you went to the rest of your classes as normal but not without being humiliated. you only went back to the bathrooms for lunch, hoping to avoid people. when school ended you were relieved. you ran out the gates and straight home. you didn’t talk to anyone all day and you avoided everyone too. you decided to do homework since you threw your phone away, hoping to avoid everything.

you were studying for hours until you heard talking ay your window. you looked down to see tom but you ignored him. the last thing you’ve antes was to see him.

he wouldn’t budge though and kept knocking. you finally opened it to tell him to go away but he had let himself in already. “______ i-,” he started but you cut him off. “look i know what you’re going to say, but just please forget what happened on friday, okay?” you pleaded. “no, i can’t. i want to say that… i really like you too ______,” you were shocked, not knowing what to do. “i didn’t know how to tell you though, so i coped by sleeping around with girls,” he confessed. “im sorry for what those girls did to you, and i’m sorry for telling them our business,” he apologized but you didn’t know whether to forgive him or not. “why?” you asked. “why what?” he said. “why did you tel them?”

“i dunno, i was jealous i guess,” he said. “oh what?” you asked. “of how good you were doing without me,” he admitted. you laughed at the irony since you weren’t actually doing as great as he thought. “are you serious?” you asked, he was silent. “i’ve been crying myself to bed all night!” you said. “i’m sorry,” tom said as he looked down. “me too i guess. i didn’t mean to say this things that night. i was pissed you were off with another girl,” you admitted. “so you weren’t mad over the chips?” he asked. “no,”

“were you serious about what you said friday night, that you like me?” he asked. “yeah…” you looked away, embarrassed. “your face is red,” he stated. “whatever,” you rolled your eyes and fell back onto your bed with tom following. you two faced each other, staring into each one’s longing eyes. “i love you,” tom whispered before leaning in for a kiss.

[chishiyaisasnack]

Dare, part 3

Part 2 Part 4

A new chapter of the smut series is here! Thank you for all the support on the last two parts. This part is written in both Chishiyas and the readers pov. When you see ”——” it means that it changes pov. When you see ”————” it means it just jumps forward a tiny bit in time.

I’m writing and posting this on mobile so I apologize for any wierd formatting.

Disclaimer! This is pure smut and very nsfw. Stay away if you’re not of age or if you don’t like to read about it. This is fiction. Be safe and use a condom irl.

Tags: @chishiyashoodie @jimingotjams

Chishiya was rarely a man on a mission but the time he spent trying to figure out how he could get a hold of sex toys were taking up most of his time right now. He could ask Kuina, but he would either have to tell her that he was going to use it on you, himself, someone else, or maybe that he was planning on gluing them to some of Niragis guns (which honestly sounded like a great idea for a later date). Either way, he was never going to hear the end of it. So that option was a no. Then there were the option of just asking the Hatter if he had some. If anyone would have a stash of toys it would be him. But that was also a clear no. The third option was to actually go and look for a store, and even though it was the most bothersome one it was the only option he could stand. So the next time he had to go to a game he decided to leave early and walk through the side alleys of Shibuya until he found one. And he actually did. Who knew that whoever created this world would keep sex shops in it? It was the first time he was in one and he was almost too overwhelmed with how many things that actually existed within the world of adult toys. Dildos in shapes and sizes he couldn’t even imagine, vibrators, rings, ropes, handcuffs and so on. Just the variations of lube to choose from was endless. He ended up picking out some of the simpler stuff, things that didn’t seem too complicated to use. He grabbed it and a handful of batteries and then hid it in a backpack that he later left outside the game area so that no one would see him carrying around a bag of dildos. He’d rather die than face that scenario.

When the game was over and he’d made his way back to the Beach he was exhausted, but put his remaining energy into getting back to his room unseen. One good part of making everyone dislike him was that nobody would ever stop to talk to him, just like he wanted. As soon as he got back to his room he locked the door, turned on the bedside lamp, sat down on the bed and got to work with figuring out how everything he brought back with him worked.

————

Finding you was easy. You were usually either in your room or on the roof, looking out over the city and trying to get away from the reality you all were in. He always started with your room, and today, once again, he found you staring at him with that wonderful, annoyed sigh coming out of your mouth when you opened the door to see who was knocking on it. He had really gotten in your head and he enjoyed it immensely.

”What do you want Chishiya?” you asked while he pushed his way between you and the doorframe without even thinking about asking if he could come in. He kicked off his flip flops and walked towards your bed.

”I took up on your offer and found some stuff” Chishiya answered with a smug face as he put down the backpack on the bed.

”My offer? Stuff?” you questioned to the sound of him openening the zipper. You turned around to face the bed and was met with him turning the backpack upside down and a flood of sex toys falling onto your bed.

Chishiya turned his gaze over to you. The face you were making was great, confused and shocked, but with a hint of amusement your eyes.

——

”What the fuck, Chishiya?” You could barely believe your eyes but you had to admit that you were curious. ”How? Why? When?” you asked, trying to take it all in.

”I found a shop on my way to the game last night” he started explaining, like it was the most normal thing in the world. ”You said you’d use them while I watched if I got some for you but I don’t know what you like so I got a few for you to choose from.” he proclaimed while pointing at the colourful pile he had created on the bed.

”A few? There’s like twenty of them there” You didn’t have to count to know that there were an excessive amount of dildos, vibrators and other stuff laying on the foot of your bed, spread out in all their glory.

Chishiya smirked as he sat down on the bed and waited for you to come over.

”So, which one - or ones - do you want to start with?” he asked, leaned his head to the side, and patted of the bed to signal for you to sit down.

”Okay, first of all, who said that I was going to use any of them?” you stated as you started to make your way to the bed.

”You did. You said that you’d show me as long as I didn’t make the toy myself. I didn’t make any of these so that deal is done.”

”You… I said I might use them. Might” you crossed your arms over your chest in an attempt to look more assured but in reality you were just trying to grasp the situation. A rainbow of pleasure was layed out in front of you, and you had to choose if you wanted to try it out in front of the man you couldn’t stand most or the time, or if you wanted to throw him out of the window.

In the corner of your eyes Chishiya looked up at you, eyes dark and curious. He already knew that you would say yes, the glint in your eyes said it all. He just needed to coax it out of you. So he said, with that low, dark voice that he knew that you couldn’t get enough of:

”Then which one might you use for me, y/n?”

————

How did you end up laying down on the bed with your head on a pillow, in your panties and with a dildo in your hand? To Chishiyas great pleasure you gave in as soon as you heard that voice again - the fucker knew that you had a soft spot for that voice, even though it’s only been a few days since the first and only time he’d used it. He was of sitting on the egde of the bed with a front row view of your body and what would soon be the greatest show of his life.

”Aren’t you going to take those off?” he questioned and pointed at your lacy underwear still secured on your hips. The rest of your clothes were already in a pile on the floor but somehow you hadn’t mustered the confidence to take off the last piece.

”Mhmm” was all you could answer, still trying to get over the feeling of embarrassment that was occupying your mind. You had chosen to go with what you knew, a pink dildo type vibrator, smooth with a bent end that were there to put pressure on your g-spot inside of you. It came with a bunch of vibration settings and you had experience with them all, considering that you owned your own copy of that particular toy back in the real world. You held it with a crushing grip while gathering courage. You wanted to do this. You wanted to show Chishiya what he was missing out on. You wanted to tease him, cry out his name while he couldn’t do more than watch you. You wanted to drive him mad and then push him away to get a taste of his own medicine. However, the though about being watched like that was making you shy. Masturbating wasn’t new to you but it was still very private and not something you’d just share with anyone.

——

Chishiya sensed your hesitation and decided to try and ease your nerves. He moved from the edge of the bed and sat down next to you, legs crossed in front of him with one of his knees touching one of yours. He started by caressing your thigh, his hand soft and warm, leaving a burning trace after it when he moved it over you, from your knee and up to your hip. He squeezed the soft skin of your waist and then left a feather light scrape of with his fingernails over your stomach. He traced the goosebumps he created, using just the tips of his fingers to create even more of them. Then he moved down to the lace trim of your panties. He slipped his thumb right under it and ran it from one side of your hip to the other, never inching closer to where you wanted him but never going further away either. When he reached your other hip he removed his hand and shifted so that he could hover over you and placed a soft kiss right below your belly button. He kept kissing you, all over your stomach, chest and right under the curve of your breasts. Your body, and mind, relaxed under his warm lips and the ends of his hair that were tickling your skin whenever he moved. You ran your fingers through the soft strands, a gentle and caring touch that always took Chishiyas breath away. He was used to being treated roughly, his whole life had been pushing away feelings until he became numb. Sex was just sex, touching was just touching. There had never been anything more to it. But whenever you did something so small, so gentle, he couldn’t help but to let himself enjoy it and feel safe for a second. He wasn’t much for intimacy but you were helping him to open up to it bit by bit, even if he tried his hardest not to.

Chishiya left one final kiss on your sternum and sat back up again, watching your body move after him while he did so.

You were beautiful like this, completely submissive to his touch and ready to be molded into whatever he wanted. He was in awe over how trusting you were when it came to this. You were strong and nobody could cross you if you didn’t want them to. You were respected by everyone. Chishiya had seen it as a challenge to break you, to see that strong facade shatter, but no matter how much he had tried you were always a step ahead of him. You saw through the manipulation and the games he tried to play. He never thought that it would be so fucking exciting to have someone not fall for his mind games. You challenged him. In the end you were the one that got in his head, not the other way around. Yet there were this side of you that only he got to see. Vulnerable, intense, trusting. You gave yourself to him, not just with the physical part of the sex but the mental part of it. That was why he kept coming back. And now you were going to surrender again, and he was so turned on by it that it was almost painful.

”Chishiya…” Your whisper snapped him out of his thoughts and he met your eyes with his. Moving his eyes to your center he swiftly pulled your panties down your legs, making sure to drag his nails along your thighs as he did. Before the panties even hit the floor, he spread your legs, got inbetween them, leaned in, and buried his tounge between your folds. The mewl you let out went straight to his cock, making it strain against his swimtrunks even more than it already did. He tasted you like he was starving. Long licks followed by circles around you clit, just to go back down and tease your entrance and then do it all over again. You were so warm and wet against his mouth and the way that you rolled your hips against him while frantically grabbing his hair just fueled him on. He kept going, making you fall closer and closer to the edge that you were searching for. Every gasp and moan was like music in his ears, and he was the one playing you like an instrument.

He didn’t stop until he remembered why he did this to begin with - to get you to finish this yourself.

With a smirk he sat back up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand while watching your heavy breathing and body shaking under him.

”I dare you to show me what you look like when you think of me doing that to you”

——

Fuck it, you thought as he watched you with that intense, confident stare that told you that he knew that you would take up on his dare, he was just waiting to see how long it was going to take. You put your foot on his stomach, which was unfortunately still covered by the hoodie, and pushed at him. He got the hint and moved back to the edge of the bed again, still sitting with his legs crossed and facing you. The smirk on his face grew bigger with every second and you couldn’t wait to get it off of him.

You sighed, moved around a bit so you laid comfortably with your head on your pillows and your knees bent. He had a perfect view of you and you kept reminding yourself not to be embarrased and instead give him more than he could ever dream of. You were going to blow his mind.

You started by slowly dragging the tips of your fingers over your stomach, moving your body with them just to show off, and by there way he looked at you it was working. His smirk was gone and his dark eyes were intense, and moving between your hand and between your legs like he couldn’t decide what he wanted to watch more. When you got to your mound you let them linger there, just for a bit, just to make him impatient enough to want to move your fingers by himself.

”I’ll do this on one condition” you said breathlessly as you kept inching your fingers further down, still not touching where he wanted you to.

”And that is?” You could tell that he was struggling to keep his composure and it gave your confidence another boost.

”You can’t touch yourself unless I tell you so” you continued. He put his hands in his pockets as a gesture.

”Good boy” you whispered. You weren’t sure if it was your praise, your fingers finally moving to your clit or a combination of the two that made Chishiya stop breathing for a second, but it didn’t matter. You fluttered your eyes closed, started moving one of your fingers in a circle around your clit and let out a needy moan. Your other hand was still gripping the toy but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing that part yet.

”I always start with my fingers” you informed him. This was going to be fun. ”I keep wishing it was your fingers though. They feel so good against me.” Chishiya swallowed hard.

”I want to get myself so wet that the toy slides right in. Just like your cock does.” you hummed, moving your fingers down to your entrance. ”Like this.” You slid two fingers into yourself while moaning quietly. You started to slowly thrust them in and out while pressing them upwards. ”I can never reach properly, your fingers feel so much better. They’re so long. So good.” you continued. When you opened your eyes you knew that your tactics were working. Chishiya was breathing faster, his chest rising and falling in a hurry. His hands were still in his pockets but you could see how hard he was holding his fists.

You removed your fingers and held them up so that both you and him could watch the wetness caught inbetween them as you inspected them.

”You always get me so turned on, Chishiya” you murmured while you were drying your fingers by dragging them along your inner thigh. His breath hitched at the sound of his name as he followed the wet stripe your fingers left on your soft skin. ”I have a toy in the real world, one just like this one” you continued while holding the dildo up to show him. His eyes sparkled with curiosity. ”It helps a lot when there’s no one there to fuck me”. You put it between your legs and ran it along your folds, getting it nice and wet. Chishiyas eyes followed it like a dog follows a treat.

”I wish it was warm, like you are” you purred, eyes on his. ”But putting it in, just like this,” you slowly inserted the dildo, closing your eyes and gasping dramatically, until you bottomed out. ”…always feel so good”.

——

Chishiya licked his lips, almost carnivorously. What he wanted was caught between wanting to watch you fuck yourself and wanting to fuck you himself. He went with the first option, only because he knew that he probably wouldn’t get another chance to see you do it, and he wasn’t going to miss out on this opportunity. But, damn, it was hard. He wanted to throw that toy out the window and fuck you until you couldn’t move. He wanted you to beg for him to take over and show you that he could do it so much better than you could yourself. His cock was aching and his fingers were going numb from how hard he was clenching his fists but he didn’t move a muscle, doing everything in his power to not disturb you.

He kept watching you as you slowly started to thrust the pink toy in and out of yourself. It was glistening, slick from your insides and Chishiya wanted it to be him so badly. Every time it bottomed out you gasped and moaned, the volume picking up with the speed of your movements.

”It’s never enough, ahhh, with just this” you gasped as you reached in with your other hand. ”I always need something more.” You started to circle your clit with your index finger in the same pace as you moved the dildo, increasing the amount of pleasure you were building up.

”I can never come with just the toy, I need this part too.” You punctuated your statement by putting more pressure on your clit and arching your back a little to the feeling it created. ”You’re the only one that has made me come without touching me here. Fuck, you feel so good inside me, Chishiya.”

A quiet groan left Chishiyas mouth before he could stop it. He knew that you were talking like that just to tease him, but it worked. He watched attentively at the way you were moving the toy, the depth, the speed, the power behind the movements. He noticed how you seemed to like it, small, deep and fast moving thrusts, almost as if you were grinding against it. The finger on your clit moved in circles, sometimes up and down just to get some change in sensation. He saw the way your thighs were trembling as you dug your heels further into the bed to get a better angle. Your eyes were closed and mouth open, gasping and softly moaning his name. Then you turned on the vibrations.

You started at the lowest setting, getting used to the intensity of the vibrations inside you. The small buzzing sound were filling up the silence inbetween the sounds of pleasure coming from your mouth.

”I always start on the lowest setting.” You explained between gasps. ”I can feel everything. Like you can when I moan around your cock.”

Chishiya almost choked on an inhale. A quick memory of your mouth around him flashed before his eyes and that memory went straight down to his cock, still aching and neglected. You had been so good, on your knees with your lips wrapped around him. He practically had to pull you off him. Good times.

You definitely noticed how flustered that made him and Chishiya didn’t even bother trying to hide it. His mind was trying to come up with every excuse to get some friction too. Even grinding into the matress seemed like a great idea. He couldn’t stop staring at the toy that was fucking you deeply, and imagining that it was him. He imagined you clenching around him, pulling him in deeper, grinding your hips on him the same way you were grinding against your hand right now. The desire he felt was overwhelming, his whole body hot and tense and craving release.

”I’m close” you panted as you sped up your movements. ”I wish I could come around you.”

He wanted that too, to feel how wet and tight you would be around him right before you came. His cock twitched again, precum leaking from the tip and staining his boxers. He didn’t even care about the mess, he just wanted to…

”Fuck, I want you to come inside me as I come around your cock.”

That was when Chishiya reached his limit. He couldn’t stand just watching anymore, he needed to be a part of it all. He used the small amount of willpower that he had left and instead of taking his shorts off, he leaned in and put his hand on the toy. Your eyes flew open in suprise, but you didn’t tell him to move away. Instead you guided him, let him get a feel of how you liked the dildo being moved, and then let him take over.

Chishiya used his other hand to push away yours and take over moving circles around your clit, soft but hurried movements, matching the speed of the thrusting.

He could feel how the toy moved inside you, how you became tighter and tighter around it the closer you got to your release. He watched the way your throat moved when you swallowed, the way your back arched, your mouth as you kept whispering ”yes, yes, yes” over and over again. Your legs starting to shake, your fingers gripping the sheets and your eyes fluttering closed.

Then he pulled the dildo out and stopped touching you all together. You let out what was almost a screech, and looked at him in disbelief.

”Why did you stop!?” you groaned, clenching your legs together. You had been a second away from your orgasm and he tore it away just as quick. ”I was going to come!”

”I know.” Chishiya answered, eyes dark and full of desire as he looked down on you. Your expression was lovely. Annoyed and flustered. Almost angry that he took away your fun. Well, now it was his time to have fun. ”Don’t worry, I’ll let you come. I’m just going to try something first.”

He spread your legs open once more and positioned himself between them before carefully inserting the toy again. He started with long, deep strokes, going all the way in and all the way back out until only the bent tip was still inside you. His eyes were laser focused on how your body took it in, and how it almost didn’t want to let it go.

”Chishiya, please…” You were trembling under his touch, grinding against him, trying to get him to do more. He looked back at your face and studied it while he kept moving his hand. You were panting, eyes half open and cheeks flushed red. And even though you were begging him, pleading for release, you still had that confidence in your eyes that made him so intrigued by you. You conciously surrendered yourself to him, but you could take back the power in a second. It was thrilling.

With his patience running low he decided to give you what you wanted and started to move the toy deep, hard and fast. You immediately let out a moan, almost as a ’thank you’.

”Touch yourself” he quietly ordered and you followed his words right away, moving your hand between your legs to brush your fingers over yourself. It didn’t even take a minute for you to be close again. Chishiya could see all the signs. Legs shaking, moans getting louder, desperate pleas falling out of your mouth. And just as he felt you clenching harder around the toy, when your whole body tensed and you were right on the edge, he pulled it out again.

The strangled cry you let out fed Chishiyas hunger for more, and when he swatted your hand away from yourself and was met with utter desperation on your face, he put the dildo back in. This time he didn’t wait, he did just as you liked right off the bat. You were close straight away, breathing like you couldn’t get enough air no matter how much you tried, legs kicking around inbetween the rolls of your hips.

”Fuck… please let me come.” You pleaded as you kept getting closer. Chishiya had other ideas.

”But you look like you’re enjoying yourself so much already..” he answered, eyes still glued on your face. He studied the way you bit your lip right after you moaned louder than usual, the way your eyebrows scrunched together when he started touching your clit again and the anger in your eyes when he pulled out the toy for the third time. And then the satisfaction when he threw the toy to the side and pushed himself in instead.

Chishiya didn’t waste any time. He drove right into you and fucked you the same way that he had with the dildo. He was bent over you, caged in by your arms clawing the hoodie off his back, and your legs crossed around his waist. You felt incredible. So tight, so wet, so fucking good that he could barely stand it. He bent his neck down, placing his lips right above yours as he kept rocking into you with all the power he could find within himself.

”Come for me” he whispered, feeling how your whole body shivered at his words. He wouldn’t last long either. Not when you were clinging to him like this, blurry eyes filled with desire and need staring back into his. ”I wanna feel you come around me. Come on my cock and I’ll come inside you.” Your eyes flew open and then he felt you tighten around his cock so hard that it felt like he almost lost bloodflow. Then you broke.

With an inhale so deep that it sounded like you were drowning, followed by a broken sob, you came. Your whole body spasmed, back arching so much it looked painful, and your head bent backwards into the pillows as you cried out, orgasm taking all of you with it. Somewhere in the middle you managed to kick Chishiya out of you so that you could squirm away from him and curl up on your side to get away from overstimulation while your body kept trembling. He watched as you clenched your legs together, your hands still gripping the sheets around you.

Chishiya was almost in shock over how absolutely amazing you looked. Your skin was glistening with sweat and your muscles danced under it with every pulse of what was left of your orgasm. You looked so satisfied, so fucked out, so wrecked. He sat back on his heels and just looked at you. The fact that he just blue balled himself was probably karma for the edging he’d just done to you. It was worth it.

”Shit” you hissed from the pillow you were currently sticking your face in.

”Feel good?” He asked, proud of himself for being the cause of it. He tapped a finger on your foot to get your attention.

”Mhmm…” you muttered back while turning your head up towards him.

————

Your whole body ached when you looked at Chishiya sitting next to you. Your legs felt like jelly, your stomach like you had the worst ab workout ever and your arms like they lost all function. How the hell had he made you come that hard? You thought you’d loose conciousness for a moment right before the orgasm hit. Not to mention what he said. It almost killed you on the spot. Sent you straight to heaven. Cause of death: Chishiya telling you to come on his cock. Fuck, he knew exactly what he was doing and it had worked wonders.

You felt Chishiya trailing the tips of his fingers along the curve of your hips, down to your thigh and then placed his hand over your knee. The warmth of his hand spread wherever he was caressing you, soothing your aching muscles with just a touch. He looked so proud of himself. You guess he earned it, so you let him have it without complaining this time. Then you looked down and realized that he was still rock hard, so hard it looked painful.

You gathered some strenght and rolled over so that you laid on your back again, then took a hold of his hand.

”Come here” you said as you spread your legs and pulled him back over you. His brows arched in suprise.

”You didn’t get to come…” you murmured as you raked your fingers down his chest and abdomen, feeling his breath hitch as you did. You continued downwards until your fingers met his cock, warm and wet under your touch. When you closed your hand around him he let out a shuddering breath and leaned his head into the crook of your neck.

You started to move your hand over him, up and back down again, slow and carefully. Your other hand was in the back of his neck, tangled in his hair, running through the soft strands. You could tell that he was trying to hide that he liked it but you always saw a glimpse of tenderness in his eyes when you touched his hair like that, and it filled you with warmth. Like you somehow managed to break through his cold outer shell and give him some comfort.

His breath was hot on your neck, quiet groans mixed with them as they reached your ear. You kept a slow pace as you stroked him, mixing it up by letting your fingers dance over him and slide your thumb over the head, which earned you a different reaction from him each time. His hips started to move with your hand as he rocked into the soft hold you had on him.

You wanted to praise him, tell him how good he had made you feel, but you had a feeling that it would be too much for him so you opted to show him instead. You wished that you had the energy to get on top of him and ride him nice and slow, to thank him for making you feel so good. Instead, you trailed kisses over his shoulder and up over his neck. You moved the hand you had in his hair, down his back and along his sides, lightly stroking in time with you other hand.

He cursed as he came, spilling hot and wet over your stomach. You jerked him through it, getting him all over you as you kept moving your hand, drawing out every ounce of pleasure in him. When his cock had stopped twitching you gave him a few more soft strokes before letting him go.

After a few breaths to steady himself he sat back up. Both of you looked down on your stomach and chest, seeing white liquid sprayed all across it. For some reason you really liked the view. He never came on you because he really didn’t like to leave a mess, no matter how many times you told him that it wasn’t gross to you.

Without thinking you moved a hand down and let one finger brush over one of the traces he had left, still warm and wet against your skin.

”Why would you do that?” Chishiya looked down on you with furrowed brows before he started to look around the room, probably looking for something to clean you up with.

”Why not?” You pointed at your bedside table drawer and he crawled right over to pick up some tissues that you had laying in there.

”You’re strange.” He leaned in over you again and started to clean you up, bit by bit until he was satisfied.

”You’re self concious. It’s nothing wierd you know.” You cocked you head to the side and continued to watch him as he threw the paper in a waste basket next to the bedside table.

With an eye roll he stood up, went over to the sofa you had on the other side of the small room and got a blanket that was thrown over a cushion. He went back to the bed and threw it over you instead.

”Thank you.” You crawled down under the blanket until only your head popped up from under it.

Chishiya sat down on the edge of the bed and put his clothes back on. His back was just as beautiful as the front of his body. He had some beauty marks sprinkled across it, smooth skin and muscles flexing under it as he moved around. Unfortunately the hoodie was back on all to soon and your ogling had to stop.

Once he was done getting dressed he spun around so that he was facing you. His hair was a bit of a mess, some strands hanging wildly out of place. His face looked tired, but in a ’I just had a great time’-tired way. The stupid smirk was back on.

”It seemed like the toys were a great idea after all.” He looked down at the discarded pink toy that was laying next to you before he looked back at you with a face full of pride. Ugh, you were going to do this again, wouldn’t you?

”I guess.” You answered, not giving him much of a reaction.

”The kick was a bit unneccesary though”.

”What kick?” Worry started to form in the pit of your stomach. You didn’t remeber kicking him. Had you hurt him?

”You kicked me off you when you came.” He said with a huff. ”You could have just told me to back off, you didn’t have to kick me in the stomach.”

The worry you had felt went away immediately when you saw his smirk turn into a grin.

”Don’t scare me like that, I thought I hurt you.” You sighed and shimmied around under the blanket to get more comfortable. You turned on your side and let out a content sigh. Your body felt like mush and you couldn’t wait to take a long nap. A shower would have to come later.

Chishiya raised an eyebrow at you before moving his way up the bed. When he got close enough he leaned down and trailed light kisses all the way up your neck, making you shiver under his touch, until he reached just below your ear. His breath was warm as it spread over your cheek and you couldn’t help but to close your eyes and relish in it. He ended it with a whisper, in that low voice that went straight to your core and lit your insides on fire every time he used it.

”Just tell me when you want to show me the next toy. We have plenty to go through.”

[diarygirls]

do u have any suggestions on how to . meet people? ive never been approached by anyone/never even gone on a date but im 22 and so lonely and scared of dating apps:(( any suggestions on how i can Put Myself Out There

<3 sending love & a sympathetic ear because i was in a similar situation myself in my early 20s and it felt so lonely even though from talking to others i know it’s actually not so unusual. sometimes i feel like the prevalence of dating apps has made dating this activity that’s entirely separate from the rest of your life / your social circle and it’s actually reduced the amount of casual dating we do in early adulthood. hmm anyway some suggestions:

for making friends in general: in my experience the easiest way to make friends is to pick an interest or activity + regularly show up where people do it. work or university are two obvious examples but there’s also rec sports leagues, online meetup groups for hobbies, trivia or open mic nights at local bars, bouldering/climbing gym or another specialized sports studio, martial arts studio, group art class, knitting circles, book clubs, volunteering … all good ways to expand your social circle + also valuable in themselves! it can feel intimidating to do things solo but people are pretty receptive to chatting especially if they’re also by themselves or maybe just 2 or 3 people. additionally bumble has a BFF mode that’s specifically for platonic connections & i have a very wonderful friend who i met from there so it might be worth a try.

and all of these ^^ situations (except bumble BFF) are good ways to meet people to date too! the only thing is for some reason in my experience, you rarely meet people to date when that’s your only goal from the interaction. like, i’ve been in social situations (outside of like bars/clubs where it’s the norm) where you can just tell that someone is only looking at new people as potential romantic interests or hookups and it just puts more pressure on every interaction. so like get out and do things and meet people, allow yourself to be open to them, if they’re cute + available feel free to flirt but don’t discount the interaction if it doesn’t turn romantic yknow?

oh also tell your friends you want to start dating! you might not want to date your close friends but they probably know someone who knows someone who you’d like to date. i’ve even been on a blind date that a friend set up for me and while it didn’t go anywhere it was still nice + less nerve-wracking than app dates because we at least had a common interest and a single shared connection. tbh in my experience NO ONE will support your dating adventures as much as your friends who have been happily partnered and in love for years, because they want everyone else to be in love, and they need the gossip.

finally ik you said you’re scared of dating apps but they’re not all bad! i think dating apps can be a good option for adults not in a university setting esp if you just want to meet a lot of people with low stakes. i think a lot of people (myself included) considering meeting someone on an app as less “real” than a cute meeting irl but the reality is a lot of single people you meet irl will also be on apps. i had a thing w this guy from an app and we ran into each a year later at a party and realized we had mutual friends and it was this nice realization like oh we would’ve met anyway. and i know a lot of people who are in relationships that started on apps! do what you’re comfy with of course but they’re always an option.

and of course goes without saying that there is so much love and romance to be had in life without a partner, that you can find so much joy and care and growth through friends family passions etc, that timelines are not real and that all experiences will come in time but you’ve probably heard that a lot, i know i did and do. but saying it again in case u need to hear it 🤍

hope some of these ideas resonate w u - ik it’s been a couple months since you asked so maybe it’ll just help someone else in a similar situation. good luck! <3

finally i know you said scared of dating apps but they’re actually not all bad and i think for adults who aren’t in university it’s a great way to just kind of dip your foot in the dating pool. plus i think a lot of us (me included) tend to romanticize irl meetings when the reality is a lot of people you’d meet in a cute way irl will also be on dating apps, i had a thing w someone from an app and a year later we ran into each other at a party and realized we had mutual friends and it was a nice reminder like ok well we would’ve met anyway, just on a later timeline. i know lots of people who are in relationships that started on them too. dating apps are also real life!!!

maybe some these ideas will resonate with you, ik it’s been a couple months since you sent it so maybe it’ll just help someone else in a similar situation. good luck out there 💗

[ask-the-elden-lords]

For anyone who wanted to know what happend to me and evelyn and me i was in love with his mod and realky loved him until xen told him that i manipulated him and hé believed it and now my last happyness is gone And to xen i hope your proud of what you did cause ivan hates you @a-good-darren @j-the-boss @thad-the-jock @aromantic-reaper @emily-loves-books @sam-likes-magnets @serial-designation-a-here @serial-designation-r-was-here @serial-designation-w @mystery-worker-drone @xen-wylde @alexisthemultifandomfan100 - @doll-the-zombie-drone

OOC

Girl you wouldn't leave me alone, refused to respect my boundaries time and time again, tried to guilt-trip me into letting you be an exception to said boundaries under the guise of "I'm just trying to have fun," refused to take "no" as an answer, tried to control my characters - and their lore (I call those her "umm, actually"s), dug up my name without permission, made me feel like I was walking on eggshells half the time, made me question my own sanity, got your brother (@n-sanity) to harass me into unblocking you - twice, tried to get me to do 18+/explicit rp with you, admitted to unironically being a yandere for me, and even had sexual fantasies about me - keep in mind that have never met this girl irl.

And as for that "I love you" thing? Again, we've never met! I live in the States, you're in Russia!

I could go on, but you get the point. I was already thinking about cutting you out of my life, Xen was simply the straw that broke the camel's back.

[astrobei]

Hello Suni astrobei. For end of year asks, I ask you 2 and 12

hi abby strangeswift !! ok so i got a couple asks for 2 so i’m going to answer that one elsewhere so i can focus my full attention on Gushing !

12. talk about a new friend you made this year

ok i’m about to get seriously so sappy so if you don’t feel like reading through all this feel free to Leave (no hard feelings LOL)

i’m someone who has a pretty small social circle irl so i never thought i’d meet so many wonderful ppl this year, and definitely not online and definitely not because i started writing fanfiction again LOL like if u told january suni this she’d look at u like 👁👁 on a more serious note though this year was insane for me. so much changed really quickly in my life and i’m so beyond grateful that amidst all the chaos i was led to all of u guys ! literally if we’ve had even one conversation on here there’s a very high chance i’ve referred to u as a friend irl so. do with that what u will.

abby and ella (@elekinetic) and sierra (@finalgirlbyers) i want u guys to know that i treasure u all So Much. like even if our convos are sporadic or if we talk exclusively through asks ur presence on my dash brings me so much joy and i look forward to each post u make and each message and each ask and each incoherent ramble in the tags !! i don’t have Favorite Mutuals but if i did it would be u guys because it’s insane how much i light up seeing ur urls ! i hope 2023 brings so many more wonderful interactions w u guys, u rly make my mindless scrolling on tumblr 100x more fun

yvie @nnilkyway HELLO i am so so beyond grateful i met them this year ! what a strange stroke of luck too bc i was so obsessed w their art before we met and hearing him say he was a big fan of my work was like. mind boggling. anyways yvie is literally one of the funniest people i have ever met in my life oh my god it’s so rare for me to find people whose sense of humor just Clicks with mine but like. four messages in and we were sending each other memes and becoming best friends and it was fantastic! i have never once felt weird or intimidated talking to them which is crazy for me, a person who feels weird and intimidated a Lot, and also need i reiterate his INSANE TALENT !! like holy shit ! my go to person for talking about gf mike wheeler or mitski or literally just anything and everything. yvie if you’re reading this i am putting u in my pocket and holding u so close. mwah. also we are married, btw. if anyone cares.

haven @bookinit02 OK. you all have heard me gush about haven a million and one times on this blog and i’m sure you’ve seen her gush about me because she’s (rightfully) obsessed with me (/j. kind of) but haven was the first friend i ever made in the byler community which is so so beyond insane to me. i fell in love with her writing so instantaneously and you guys should’ve been there to see my reaction when i saw her leave her first comment on my fic. literally screamed it was so embarrassing 😭 we talked exclusively through ao3 comments for a while because she’d yell every time i updated ihcisc and i’d yell every time she updated her season 2 rewrite and then one day she dm’d me asking me to make a twt to add me to a byler gc and the rest was History. anyways haven is one of the most talented most creative people i’ve ever met BUT she’s also one of the sweetest and most compassionate people on the face of this planet and deserves nothing but good things always ! she’s one of those people that i need to talk to every day or i’ll go insane and i love how our convos can speedrun the entire human spectrum of emotions within like. 5 minutes. she’s so incredibly supportive and my #1 hype girl and she has the freaky ability to entirely turn my mood around on a bad day in less than 20 seconds. she literally managed to sleuth around and find my venmo just to send me soup money. if i could buy her Everything then i literally would. i would eat cilantro for her. i would watch the mlvn makeout scene for her. i would get my socks wet for her. literally i would do anything for her and i can’t wait until i see her in june and i chase her in circles around the airport and then we kiss👩🏼‍❤️‍💋‍👩🏽 and we Hug so tight and platonically 🫂

thea @wiseatom u already know. i tell her every day that i would do literally anything she asked of me and it’s true! literally 2 minutes ago she said “suni u should dye ur hair green” and for a moment i seriously considered it. anyways thea is objectively the funniest fucking person i have ever met in my life and is also my twin. if my twin were blond and taller and also a different age. in all seriousness though thea feels like the world’s most insane older sister to me and as an Actual older sister i’m really loving the feral little sibling treatment. she’s so insane easy to talk to (probably bc our brains work in the exact same way) and Oozes talent from literally every single cell in her body. she sends me a snippet of her work and i spend the next 10 minutes rolling on the floor trying not to SCREAM. there are so few people who can make me laugh as much as she does but also turn me into a blubbering mess of a baby with her Evil Cruel Prose 2 seconds later but thea wiseatom has been put on this planet to achieve the impossible. i have rarely felt so seen as i do when i talk to her, whether it’s for advice or Wallowing or complaining about our disproportionately large heads together, she is so kind and supportive and one of my favorite people Ever. i can’t believe the universe put her 3000 miles away from me because i Need to be a menace to her in person but we’ll make it work. every day i say goodnight to her at 8 pm my time and then say good morning to her at 2 am my time and then i go to bed <3 thea if you’re reading this (and u better be. i tagged u) i hope u know that u are the light of my life and i am packing my bindle as we speak to begin the cross country trek. mwah.

@andiwriteordie ANDI ! i miss talking to u every day but u are so busy with ur big girl job and cranking out quality fics at light speed so i’ll give u a pass 😔 andi is literally a legend in the byler fic community so when i found out she Knew Who I Was,,, i died. i literally died. even when we haven’t talked in a while i love how we can pick up a convo like nothing has changed or send posts that remind us of each other or go crazy apeshit in each others tags like there’s no tomorrow !! andi is so so inspirational to me, she is so kind and creative and full of positivity (even if her writing is mean and full of Sadness and Misery. still haven’t forgiven u for descent, btw) she feels like my other older sister and she has such an insane way with words that i will never understand ! thank u for singlehandedly keeping byler tumblr going, i hope 2023 is so kind to u and u get ultra promoted and have so much fun at the eras tour like u deserve <3

moon aka @smoosnoom omg ok not only is moon so crazy talented but she is such! a sweet person! back when i started writing for byler she was such an enigma to me, an ao3 user and a total Mystery, so i never expected us to actually talk and now! here we are! she is so uplifting and supportive and i’ve loved getting to know her over the past few months, whether it’s bonding over our shared hatred (affectionate. mostly) of finn wolfhard or bawling our eyes out to everything everywhere (oh my god.) seeing her comment on my first fic literally made my heart stop dead in my chest. she has such a gift for making everyone feel so immediately accepted and welcome in any space, and i will spend the rest of my life stewing in anger that she’s taller than me. that feels extremely, unfathomably illegal. anyway moon if ur reading this (and u also better be! bc i tagged u!!) i hope the new year is so good to u <3 mwah ily

[ribbonpinky-art]

feeling melancholic and hopeless again. so im gonna just write out my emotions and none of it correlating. self pity post galore

im thinking about things. life is rough. so stressful. my mental illness is worsening by the day. lots of stuff happens behind the scenes that i choose to not talk about

and what im thinking about now, is that who was once one of my absolute comforts (junko).. im thinking abt that adorable little fumo plush of her i ordered several months ago is just sitting on top of my other plushies.. that i wasn't even excited to have her when she first arrived.

i didn't care.

and that hurt, knowing i didn’t, remembering how much she once meant to me.

same with my Chang’e. i want nothing to do with either of them now. they no longer bring me an ounce of comfort, only dread and remnants of a self indulgent story of kindness that once lifted me up. it all died. feels too idealistic. i feel like im too much of an outcast to let this story exist outside my private circles. i dont even want it anymore, or if i want to ever again

i think as of lately, focusing on oc’s (including ones i havent spoken of yet) has been better for my state of mind

doesnt help that im kiiinda only appreciated for my Junko works!!!! awesome!! i dont want to draw her anymore !!! fml!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! other people are better at drawing her than me anyway, ya wont miss me. lemme focus on my evil lady oc instead...

maybe im being melodramatic, and i do not care. perhaps in a few months i will be enamored with them again? idk. idc either

i feel more disconnected than ever to fandom, when i was seldom a part of any of it in the first place. im that person that exists on the outskirts, not really part of their community. im disconnected to people. i cant make connections with anyone, but i never could .. ok . i could, with a couple folks here and there. im grateful they want me around (not counting my partner of course, theyre the best thing thats ever happened to me. im not just lucky, im fortunate af we met at all)

im aware of my own issues- im autistic, im unmedicated when i probably need meds to regulate my emotions, i live in a toxic family. im triggered terribly easily, and when im hurt, it *hurts*.

 i fear that, because of my strange way of speaking and how a lot of my conversations are stilted, and what i perceive as unusual behavior-- i fear i make other people creeped out/uncomfortable. irl or otherwise. like, maybe ppl will be friendly to me at first, but after a year and i dont say much anything and im just this creepy, quiet weirdo to them now. and thats so silly. whats creepy about me?? im a pint size thing who cant even look anyone in the eye very well. is that creepy?? ok, i struggle to talk sometimes, i might be uninterested in conversation but i dont want to be disliked for it-- idk ((ok i have “Creep” by Radiohead set in my mind because of my mental state, and its kinda funny to me for some reason)

i genuinely feel like i lack intelligence. i suck at thinking. i suck at thinking of words, remembering things, and the tiny mistakes i do make are SO small that it should be impossible to make the mistake in the first place. was i always like this? i feel like i used to be smarter , lol

i am quite literally, a complete failure in my family. i cant stress the truth in that enough. even my grandmother is disappointed in me and only wants to see a text message from me saying i got a worthy job in my field. that only thing that matters to anyone, my one and only point of interest in everyone i speak to in my life even outside my family, is that i dont have a real job. thats it. everyone is waiting for me to be.. someone.

because im no one.

but none of them have been a particularly positive influence in my life, seeing as im stuck here.

i genuinely feel disgusting for existing. my body feels wrong to be in when i am visible to any human being. perhaps even to any animal and bug, too. i dont want to be looked at, to be remembered by anyone who wont understand me

nothing is changing!!!!! and when it is, its worse than before!! why cant i just be brave and GO

..

..

..

not all of this reflects reality. i beat myself up a lot. mirrin knows it. i know it.

it hurts

[garoujo]

bc we're on the topic of working out rn,,, i've sometimes been thinking abt going to the gym as well bc a lot of my friends also go ! but then again most of my friends irl are male and the way some of them talk abt women they see at the gym is just....... frankly disgusting. needless to say i've started distancing myself ever since i got wind of it but it also makes me even more anxious to even think abt starting :<

oh noooo bbie ! i swear most ppl i’ve met from the gym totally aren’t like that so i don’t mean this 2 sound bad but it’s probably just ur friends < / 3 i’ve met alot of men thru the gym that i speak 2 in passing and they’ve never passed any sort of comment on anyone in the gym & ive went out w a few gym dudes who were the exact same .. ppl can be so gross but honestly not everyone is ! u could always try a diff gym tho cause they r def not the sort of ppl i’d want 2 workout around either ><

[juniperhillpatient]

heyyyy girllll

talk about jdronica to mee pleaseeeee i'm dying rn i just need to hear some good shit about it lol

Hii 😀💖 I hope your night improves soon 🥺

Hmmmm well I am having a rough night myself irl (nothing too terrible just annoying ass customers getting on my nerves & family obligations stressing me a bit) & my brain is tired & fried so I’ll be honest my thoughts are not smart or original right now but how about I just ramble a bit about why I love them 🥺

I love a good twisted love story about love that corrupts okay. You see the thing about JD & Veronica is that they are THEE corruption ship like they are literally dramatic bitches who immediately fell hard & fast for each other & made it everyone else’s problem. That right there is love bitch! Some may not like it but it’s the blueprint. We love toxic bitches who make each other worse 💖

I think what people miss about them is that the love is ✨real.✨ It’s toxic & fucked up & that leads to people wanting to pretend it’s not really love, but that is fundamentally misunderstanding the story. YEAH JD gets so angry & violent at the end including toward Veronica but he’s ALWAYS doing everything he does out of love for her in his own sick & twisted way 💖And Veronica loves him back & that’s very underrated & often misunderstood. The story just doesn’t work if Veronica doesn’t love JD. It’s why the line “I wish we’d met before they convinced you life is war” makes me SO fucking crazy because JD is literally trying to blow up the school with them in it & she’s STILL lamenting that they never got a normal life together like FUCK 😭

But you know… I think in a way Veronica never understood that her dream of “normal” was an impossible fantasy. She & JD bonded specifically over violence. Even the line when she’s breaking up with him in ‘I Say No’ “‘cause I believe that love will win & hate will earn you nothing in the end’” is VERY interesting in the context that JD is in FACT doing everything he does out of love. I mean “Our Love is God” is literally extremely explicitly spelling this this out for Veronica & the audience. JD does have a lot of hate but it’s so important to understand that that that’s NOT what motivates him. What motivates him is LOVE. If JD just wanted to kill people cause he’s filled with hate he’d do it. But no - it’s Veronica awakening something in him that motivates him to start killing for HER. But I’m not sure that Veronica ever really understands this tbh & maybe it’s for the best because can you imagine her struggling even years later, afraid to ever let anyone love her again because she remembers what loving her does to a person? Annnnd I just made myself emo thinking about that & now I kinda wanna write a fic about Veronica years after the events of the musical / movie struggling to ever accept love again because her love corrupts & leads to violence & loss & tragedy….

A N Y W A Y that’s why JD & Veronica make me SO crazy insane because their love is God & God is cruel & merciless & chaotic 💖💖💖