#and i miss how i felt when we just looked each other in the eyes and smiled

[liahaslosthermind]

~ 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒐𝒇 𝑳𝒐𝒔𝒔 ~

(Past) Rhysand x OC, (Eventual) Azriel x OC Part 2 of Betrayal

Summary: He was out of his mind with grief. Azriel had been through his fair share of trauma. He had seen and done horrific things, but that was always with Adelaide by his side. Now, he didn't know what to do, and he was losing it. Warnings: Suicidal thoughts and ideology, Death of a loved one, grief, Hurt/No Comfort

His limbs ached as he stood up from his chair. He had been sitting there so long that walking felt much harder than it usually did.

He rubbed the haze from his eyes while walking to the door, the incessant knocking making his headache worse.

"Fuck, Az. You look- how do you- do you want me to..." Cassian stood in front of his brother, a man he'd known for 500 years, and didn't recognize the person he saw.

It had been the first time in almost 2 months that Cassian's knocks were answered. He had come to her room, everyday, multiple times a day, to plead with his brother to talk to him, to eat something, to just let Cassian look at him so he could see he was alive.

Azriel said nothing as he turned around and went back to the chair he had been occupying. Cassian closed the door behind him as he took in the room.

It was the same as it had been the day she left. Even though this had been the place Azriel spent most of his days, the Shadowsinger had kept it all the same, only touching her bed that he would sleep in the nights he could stomach it, or the chair he was currently in now.

A mess of papers on the desk brought tears to Cassian's eyes. Adelaide, sweet and caring Adelaide, had been making a list of Solstice gifts for her family when she was called to join some of the Inner Circle on a meeting all those months ago. A meeting that had been a trap for them. A meeting that ended up taking her life.

Azriel cleared his throat when Cassian went to pick up a piece of paper. He had tried to hard to keep her room clean while also not disturbing things from the spot she had put them in.

"Nesta told me that her and Elaine have been leaving you food but it remains untouched."

"Is there a question, brother?" Azriel asked. His voice had always been rough, and he had always been more on the quiet side, but Cassian could tell that because of lack of use, it hurt him to speak.

"Why aren't you eating? How can we get you to? I would do anything, Az." he pleaded.

The spymaster didn't answer.

"Whats the end goal? Believe me, if you want 1,000 years to mourn her, I will be with you every step of the way. I've tried to give you space, but you are killing yourself! You sit in here all day, only coming out when everyone is asleep or gone. What do you need to care about your life again?"

He was met with a distracted look from Azriel.

His brother was never distracted. He was never careless. He hadn't missed a day of training for no reason in hundreds of years. Cassian knew he still trained every once in a while, but Azriel always found times to do it when no one else was around.

Azriel didn't have an answer for Cassian, at least not one he would like.

How could I care for my life when her's is over? he thought. By the desperate look on Cassian's face, he could tell his brother knew the answer.

"I lost her too. I know it was different with the two of you, you were each others'... person, but she was as much my sister as you are my brother. I didn't... I didn't even get to say goodbye." Cassian finally broke at the confession. He hadn't let himself think about it, he had to keep himself together for Azriel. "The last time I talked to her, we where fighting over food. She stole the slice of cake I had saved for myself, I called her an inconvenience and a burden, she called me a spoiled bat who needs to learn to share." He let out a bittersweet laugh at the memory. They were usually at each others' throats, and when they weren't, they were teamed up to annoy someone else in their family. But they loved each other, always were there for one another, except in the end, when it mattered most.

"24 hours later, I was picking out the sarcophagus my sister was going to be laid in. I would have let her have all of my leftovers, all of my desert, if it meant I just got one last conversation with her." Choking up, Cassian sank to the floor, a wave of familiar grief washing over him.

Azriel joined him, crying as he hugged his brother.

The two illyrians, sat like that for a while. Long after their tears had dried, long after the sun had gone down, Cassian finally spoke up.

"Why don't you go see her? Visiting helps me, talking to her even though I know she can't hear is something I do often."

In truth, Azriel hadn't gone to his best friend's mausoleum since the funeral. He couldn't see her like that, couldn't come to terms with it.

These past 6 months had been dark. Everyone was mourning her, many of the people of Velaris included, but none more than Azriel. Part of him had died, laid in the cold marble box that held her body. For the first few months, he had completely disconnected from reality. He went on with his daily routine, he trained, ate, went on missions, did paperwork, slept. But it was as it he was on autopilot, as if the real Azriel had been asleep that whole time.

Two months ago, he woke up. It was sudden, he had gone to his room for the first time in a while to grab some books that had been long overdo at the library, and the priestesses had kindly told him if they didn't get them back he would be banned for life.

Thats when he saw the blanket on the chair by his desk. She had given it to him over a century ago. It was a birthday present, a wool blanket that was enchanted to smell like her always. She had played it off as a self centered gift, so he doesn't forget about his favorite person while away on missions, in front of their friends, but Azriel knew it wasn't that. Adelaide had always been a master gift giver, and she also knew Azriel had trouble sleeping most nights, but he never had any problems falling asleep on the couch next to her after a long night of conversations, wrapped comfortably in her own wool blanket.

He hadn't slept without it till the night she died.

Then, he picked it up, trying to see if the enchantment still worked. And that was all it took for him to wake up. It was awful, every bad feeling he had been too far disassociated to feel hit him at once. He curled up on the floor with the blanket wrapped around his hands and stayed there for days, silent tears never ceasing to fall.

After getting yelled at by Madja, who Nesta had called to knock some sense into him, he got up and went to her room, where he remained most of his days.

He sat in the chair in the corner of the room, only eating to quiet his stomach, and tried as hard as he could to detach himself from the never ending agony that was his life now.

He told Cas he would see her, the general's face lighting up at the news.

He felt guilty, making Cassian so happy for something he knew would later destroy him.

Hours after Cassian had left the room, as the sun came up, Azriel went to his room to grab the blanket he hadn't touched in 2 months. Then he grabbed Truth Teller, wrote his final request, and went to see Adelaide.

The building was large, and beautifully constructed. He would have been happy that she had a resting place deserving of her, but he knew Rhysand only spent that much money and made it this beautiful to try and lighten the guilt he felt.

The Shadowsinger stopped by the entrance, the sarcophagus without a lid placed up on the platform.

Before the funeral, Helion had come to place a enchantment on her body that would keep it preserved.

It had been a show of good will, Adelaide had been head of the Night Court's scholarly texts, education, and research. The two had met to have academic conversations at least once every few months for decades.

But as Azriel looked down at her, it felt like a cruel punishment from Helion.

6 months later, she was still as beautiful as she was the last time he saw her, and she was still just as dead.

This was where he would remain, his final request was to be laid to rest in the same building. He would be adding unnecessary pain onto his loved ones who had suffered so much already, but for the first time in his life, Azriel had decided to put himself in front of his family.

Looking her over one last time, he realized he was now completely numb.

Azriel held the gifted blanket and went to take off the one she currently had. Based off the fact it seemed to have been picked out with meticulous care to match Adelaide's coloring, and her outfit, there was no doubt it had been placed their by Mor.

On her lap, previously being covered by the blanket, laid a large and very old book.

Had one of the scholars she worked with placed it? One of the educators?

Strange marks littered the cover, but no title. Not till he opened the first page did he see what it was.

The Walking Dead

A cruel pick. Who would ever leave such a book with a corpse?

The second page was blank, so was the third, so was the fourth. Thumbing through the book, Azriel just about gave up looking at the blank pages when he finally found one with writing.

It seemed to be a poem, but it was formatted too strangely.

The title at the top read Eternally Intertwined.

A spell.

He almost dropped the book at the realization.

No one had left this book, it had been fate that had given it to him, kept it here waiting for him to stumble upon it.

He knew what he needed to do.

[koyagifs]

Starlit Confessions

pairing: seonghwa x reader au: idol | childhood friends to lover genre: fluff summary: tour finally ended and seonghwa decided to spend time with you during his break warning(s): none a/n: not edited

──･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.────

As the tour finally came to a close, Seonghwa felt a wave of relief wash over him. The whirlwind of performances and travel had been exhilarating, but now he was eager to spend some much-needed time with you.

Seonghwa stood outside your place, heavily covered as he didn't want to get spotted by his lovely atiny. As you come out from your place, a smile placed on your lip as you noticed him.

" hwa~" You called out, your voice brightening the chilly evening. Seonghwa’s heart raced at the sound of his name. He turned to you, and even though you couldn't noticed the smile placed on his face it was there.

He waved, shuffling over as you opened your arms for his hug. Seonghwa stepped into your embrace, the warmth of your body chasing away the chill of the evening air. He held you tightly, savoring the moment after being away for so long.

“I missed this,” he murmured, his voice slightly muffled against your shoulder. You could feel the tension in his shoulders ease as he let go of the stress from the tour.

You pulled back to look at him, noticing the glint of joy in his eyes. “I missed you too, Hwa. It’s been too long.”

" well, next time you'll just have to join me on tour"

You laughed, " hmm, i'll think about it"

Seonghwa laughed as well, wrapping his arm around your shoulder you two began to walk. The night sky shinning down as you two made it towards a near by bridge.

As you walked, the soft glow of the city lights illuminated your path, and the gentle breeze carried the distant sound of laughter from the streets below. Seonghwa's arm around your shoulders felt comforting, and you leaned into him as you approached the bridge.

When you reached the center of the bridge, you paused to take in the view. The water below shimmered under the moonlight, reflecting the stars above. It was a breathtaking sight, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Wow, it’s beautiful here,” you said, taking a deep breath of the cool night air.

Seonghwa nodded, his gaze fixed on you. He leaned next to you, his eyes not leaving your figure as you continue to look at the water below.

" yn, how long have we known each other?"

You turned to Seonghwa, surprised by the question. " hmm since elementary school. You shoved liu off because he took one of my toys away"

Seonghwa laughed at the memory, nodding his head

“Right! I remember that! You were so upset, and I just couldn’t stand seeing you cry,” he said, a fond smile on his face. “I had no idea I’d end up with a lifelong friend that day.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “You were such a little hero back then. It’s hard to believe how far we’ve come since those days.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, leaning back against the railing of the bridge. “From playground fights to late-night talks and everything in between. It’s been quite the journey.”

You glanced at him, noticing the way his eyes sparkled with nostalgia. You took his hand, interlocking your fingers together. “I wouldn’t trade any of it for the world. You’ve always been there for me, Hwa.”

Seonghwa looked down at your intertwined fingers, a soft smile spreading across his face. He pulled you closer, a soft gasp escaping you as you looked up at Seonghwa. He pulled his mask down, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Can I tell you something?” he asked, his voice low and earnest.

You nodded, feeling the warmth radiate between you. One his hands went to your cheek, gently brushing your hair back as he continued,

" this tour... made me realize how much i love you yn. "

you smiled, " i love you to hwa"

He moved his head side to side, " no, i love you, more then a friend"

“And I always will be,” he replied, his voice sincere. “You mean so much to me.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, a mix of joy and nervous excitement flooding through you. “More than a friend?” you echoed, wanting to savor the moment.

Seonghwa nodded, his gaze unwavering. He leaned in closer, his voice a gentle whisper. " can i kiss you?"

You leaned in closer, " i'll be disappointed if you didn't my love"

Seonghwa’s eyes sparkled with delight at your response. With a tender smile, he closed the distance between you, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, lingering kiss. It was sweet and warm, filled with all the unspoken emotions that had built up between you over the years.

As he pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours, he whispered, “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”

You smiled, feeling a rush of happiness. " took you awhile Park "

He placed another kiss on your lip, smiling against your mouth. “I know, I know. I guess I was just waiting for the perfect moment.”

You chuckled softly, your heart fluttering. Maybe you should go on next tour.

[hoe4hotchner]

Omg can we get a part 2 of rodeo please? I can't do too much angst but it was so good

Rodeo - part 2 | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

CW: starts in 3. person pov and switches to 2. person pov half way through, emotional distress, guilt and regret, unhealthy relationship dynamics, emotional confrontation, mentions of past emotional manipulation.

WC: 2,1k

Here's part 1 of the fic

I really wanted to make this even more angsty than the last part and with no sense of comfort at all, cause I really wanted to be a giant asshole to Hotch for no reason. But..... I'm a little nice today, so I made an open ending with a teeny tiny piece of hope for you guys

           The office felt different without her.

           Hotch’s desk was covered with neatly stacked files, reports waiting to be signed off, and yet, none of it mattered. His eyes had skimmed the same paragraph in the report in front of him three times now, but the words didn’t sink in. His mind was somewhere else - always back to her. The gnawing ache in his chest that had been there since that night months ago hadn’t gone away. If anything, it had grown, spreading through him like a poison he couldn’t shake.

           𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚎.

           It wasn’t just the space she used to occupy in the bullpen or the silence in the elevator where they used to stand shoulder to shoulder. It was deeper than that. The realization had crept up on him slowly at first - missing her laugh, the way she could sense his mood even when he didn’t speak, the small things she did that calmed him in a way he hadn’t realized he needed. But now, it consumed him.

           The truth was, he missed her in ways he wasn’t sure he could even admit to himself.

           He remembered how she had looked at him that night, her eyes filled with frustration and pain as they stood across from each other in the bullpen, the echoes of their argument still fresh in his mind. “I want something more.” Her voice had been shaky but determined, a mix of vulnerability and strength that struck him like a punch to the gut.

           And what had he done? He’d pushed her away. His fear of letting her get too close, of her seeing the parts of him he kept hidden from everyone, had made him say things he regretted. Words he could never take back. “I told you from the beginning what this was,” he had said, his voice cold, and detached. A lie to protect himself.

           He had let her walk away, convinced that it was for the best. But now, as the months dragged on, he realized how mistaken he had been.

           The space she left behind was unbearable.

           She wasn’t in the BAU anymore. He’d heard she’d been reassigned to another department within the FBI- something quieter, more predictable. He told himself it was better this way. She deserved a life outside the chaos of his world. But even though she wasn’t far, it felt like she was unreachable. The thought of running into her in the hallways, of seeing her around the building, had terrified him. He didn’t know how he’d be able to look at her, look into her eyes, and not feel the significance of his own mistakes crushing him.

           He missed everything about her.

           He missed her smile. The way her eyes lit up when she was excited about something. The warmth she brought into every room she entered.

           But it wasn’t just that.

           She had been the best thing in his life. The one thing that made him feel something beyond the reality of his rigid day-to-day structure. He had been a fool to push her away, to pretend like he didn’t care. And now, the weight of his own stupidity was drowning him.

           Hotch leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling, the hum of the vents filling the otherwise quiet space. His mind replayed every moment of their time together, the stolen glances, the late nights, the spark between them, the sex that he had tried so hard to keep casual but had never been just that. It had always been more.

           The truth was, he had been afraid.

           Afraid of how much he needed her. Afraid of what it would mean to let her in, afraid that he would lose her to the job. But now, the fear felt insignificant compared to the hollow emptiness he felt without her.

           He had to get her back.

           The thought gnawed at him, day and night until it was all he could think about. He had rehearsed what he would say a thousand times in his head. But he could never bring himself to actually do it. Every time he thought about going to her, confronting her, something stopped him. The fear, the guilt, the uncertainty of whether she even wanted to see him again after the way he had treated her.

           But tonight was different.

           The late hour and the empty office only amplified the ache in his chest, and before he knew it, he was out of his chair, grabbing his coat, and heading for the door. His soul carried him toward her place before his mind could stop him. The drive felt longer than it should have, his heart racing with each mile that passed. What would he even say? How could he apologize for everything he had done?

           He didn’t have an answer, but he knew he couldn’t keep living like this. He had to try.

           The knock on your door sounded louder in the silence of the night, echoing through the quiet hallway. Hotch stood there, his heart pounding in his chest, throat dry as he waited. It had taken everything in him to get this far, to drive across the city, to stand in front of your door after months of silence. His hand shook slightly at his side, the importance of what he was about to do weighing down on him.

           He wasn’t used to this. This vulnerability, this sense of desperation that had been festering ever since you walked out of his life. Hotch was always the calm and collected one. But here he was, outside your door, drenched in the cold sweat of regret and longing.

           He knocked again, this time softer, more tentative, as if he was already bracing himself for the rejection he knew he deserved. His mind raced with what he would say, what words could possibly make up for the way he had hurt you.

           The door creaked open, and there you were. For a moment, Hotch couldn’t breathe. You stood there, surprised, your eyes widening slightly as you took him in. He looked rough as if the months had worn him down. His suit was wrinkled, his hair slightly disheveled - things you would never have caught him dead in. He wasn’t the composed, stoic man you were used to seeing. This was a man on the edge.

           You didn’t say anything at first. The silence between you was thick with unspoken tension, the memories of the past months hanging heavily in the air.

           “Can I come in?” His voice was barely above a whisper, strained as if the words physically hurt to say.

           You hesitated, your hand still gripping the edge of the door. Your heart raced in your chest, the recollection of that last argument flashing in your mind. The way he had dismissed your feelings, the way he had left you broken and alone.

           But there was something in his eyes - something so raw, something so vulnerable that made you step aside, giving him room to enter.

           The door clicked shut behind him, and the two of you stood in the middle of your small apartment. Hotch took a deep breath, his hands trembling slightly as he shoved them into his pockets, trying to steady himself.

           “I know I’m the last person you want to see,” he started, his voice tight. “But I had to… I couldn’t keep going like this.”

           You crossed your arms, trying to protect yourself from the wave of emotions crashing over you. “What do you want, Aaron?” Your voice was sharp, and defensive. You didn’t have the energy to let him in, not after everything.

           He flinched at your tone, but he didn’t back down. “I was wrong,” he said, the words tumbling out of him in a rush. “I was so wrong. About everything.”

           You raised an eyebrow, skepticism written all over your face. “You just figured that out now?”

           His jaw clenched, and he nodded. “Yes. And I’m sorry. I was an asshole. I was too focused on my own issues, on the job, on… everything but you. And I didn’t realize what I was losing until it was too late.”

           You swallowed hard, trying to keep your emotions in check. “Why now? Why come here after months? What’s changed?”

           Hotch’s eyes met yours, and you saw the flicker of pain, of guilt that he had been carrying all this time. “Because I can’t stop thinking about you! I can’t go a day without regretting what I said, what I did! You were… you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I threw it away because I was scared of losing it.”

           You shook your head, trying to push back the tears that threatened to spill. “You hurt me, Aaron. You made me feel like I didn’t matter. Like I was just something convenient for you. Something you could just discard.”

           “I know,” he said quickly, stepping closer. “And I hate myself for it. I hate that I made you feel that way because you’re not. You’re everything. You were everything to me, and I was too blind to see it.”

           Your breath hitched as the emotions you had tried to bury for months came rushing back. The anger, the pain, the longing for something you thought you would never have. You turned to face away from him for a split second. “And what? You think you can just show up here, say sorry, and we’ll go back to how things were?”

           He winced at your words, the truth of them stinging more than he’d expected. “No,” he admitted, his voice rough. “I don’t expect that. I don’t deserve that. But I need you to know… I need you to know that I want to change. That I miss you. That I’m not asking for anything other than a chance to make things right.”

           The air in the room felt heavy, the tension between you and Hotch thick, almost suffocating. You stared at him, your heart torn between the hurt he had caused and the undeniable pull you still felt toward him.

           “Why now?” you asked, your voice softer, more vulnerable. “Why couldn’t you've figured this out before?”

           Hotch ran a hand through his hair, his eyes filled with regret. “Because I’m a coward,” he admitted, his voice breaking slightly. “I didn’t want to feel. I didn’t want to let anyone in because I was scared of what that would mean. But you… you broke through all of that, and I didn’t know how to handle it. So I pushed you away.”

           You felt your throat tighten, the sincerity of his confession cutting through your defenses. Part of you wanted to scream at him, to push him away the way he had pushed you. But another part of you, the part that had loved him so deeply, wanted to pull him close, to forgive him, to believe that maybe he had changed.

           “I’m not asking for everything to go back to how it was,” Hotch continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know I’ve lost your trust. But… just give me a chance. Let me prove that I’m not that man.”

           You stood there, your heart pounding in your chest, torn between the pain of the past and the possibility of something new. His eyes bore into yours, filled with a desperation that you had never seen before, an almost heartbreaking vulnerability.

           “I don’t know if I can do this again, Aaron,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “I don’t know if I can let myself get hurt like that again.”

           Hotch nodded, his eyes filled with understanding. “I know,” he said softly. “And I won’t push you. I won’t ask for more than you’re willing to give. Just let me show you. Let me be there for you, the way I should have been from the beginning.”

          ��You looked at him, searching his face for any sign of the man who had hurt you, the man who had left you feeling broken and discarded. But all you saw was sincerity, regret, and a deep, aching desire to make things right.

           Finally, you took a deep breath, your heart still heavy with everything that had happened. “Okay,” you said softly. “We can try. But it’s going to be on my terms, Aaron. Not yours.”

           Relief washed over his face, and he nodded, his eyes softening. “Whatever you need,” he promised, his voice full of emotion. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

           For the first time in months, you felt a small flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for the two of you to find your way back to each other.

[foreverisntenough]

‘Act II’

Summary: Attraction is like a gravitational pull that is undefinable and unavoidable. Unbeknownst to you, Jude had been keeping an eye on you since he caught a glimpse on his best friend’s girlfriend’s Instagram but he’s been loving his single life. You always were independent and know how to swim on your own but maybe you have been just treading water. Could the tides change on a holiday in Greece when you finally meet? It might get a little rocky but maybe you could be his paradise.

Index

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series! ‘Act II’ is interconnected to the 'You’re Mine' and 'Ours' Series but can read it independently.

Chapter 12 - 'Like Your Home' | ‘Act II’

word count - 11.2k

You and Jude were both exhausted, not just physically after probably too many rounds making up for lost time but emotionally, having navigated the long, winding path back to one another. You and Jude had had sex for hours, you couldn’t get enough. So after you felt completely spent, you closed your eyes, letting yourself relax into him, but then you heard something that caught you off guard. Jude started laughing. It wasn't a big laugh, more like a quiet chuckle that came from deep in his chest, but it was enough to make you lift your head in confusion. You looked up at him, your brow furrowed and a smile pulling at your lips, unsure of what was going through his mind.

"What?" you asked, starting to laugh yourself, tilting your head slightly, wondering what had caused this sudden burst of amusement. Jude grinned, his eyes sparkling with a kind of boyish joy you hadn't seen in a while. His hand came up to brush a strand of hair from your face, and he let out another small laugh before he spoke. 

"Sorry. I don’t know. I'm just...so happy," he said, his voice soft but filled with that unmistakable giddiness. He looked at you like he still couldn't quite believe this was real, that you were here with him again, in this way. “Angel, I haven’t fucked you in ages and I cannot tell you how often I’ve thought about that.” He laughed. You blinked at him, a smile tugging at your lips despite your confusion. 

"You're laughing because you're happy you fucked me?" you asked, teasingly raising an eyebrow. Jude nodded, his hand running gently down your back. 

"Yeah," he admitted, looking slightly sheepish but still grinning. "I just missed this so much. Being with you like this... I missed being in bed with you." His confession made your heart flutter, and your smile widened. It was backwardsly sweet. You felt the same sense of relief and joy that he did, that this space between the two of you had finally been filled again. The weight of what had been lost, the heartbreak, the distance-it all seemed to melt away in this moment. It felt good. It felt right. You leaned up and pressed a gentle kiss to his bare chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your lips. 

"I missed it too," you whispered against his skin, your voice soft but full of truth. You cuddled into him, feeling his warmth, his presence, and that giddiness he had spoken of was reflected in your own heart. “Missed how good you make me feel, baby.” You cooed, kissing his bare chest. Jude wrapped his arms tighter around you, his hand running soothing circles over your back as the laughter faded into a peaceful quiet. The two of you just laid there, wrapped up in each other, feeling the joy of having found your way back. But the longer you laid there in that comforting warmth of Jude’s arms, a sudden wave of insecurity washed over you. You couldn’t help it—everything between you felt perfect now, but the time apart still lingered in the back of your mind. You hesitated, unsure if you should even ask, but the question slipped out before you could stop it. “Jude… Did you…did you sleep with anyone while we were apart?” Your voice was soft, almost timid, but the moment the words left your lips, you felt your heart drop into your stomach. Jude’s body stiffened slightly, and that brief silence made your pulse race. The fear that you had maybe shattered this perfect moment crept in, gnawing at your chest. He sighed deeply, and for a second, you feared the worst. But then he pulled you closer, his hand gently cupping your face as he tilted your chin up so you were forced to meet his eyes.

“No, angel,” he said firmly, his voice soothing but serious. “I didn’t. I don’t want you to ever have to ask me that again.” He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “You’re the only one I want.” You blinked up at him, relief flooding your body, and you gave him a small nod, feeling a bit silly for even asking. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “It’s just… I guess I got scared.” Jude shook his head, giving you a soft smile. 

“Don’t be sorry, I know I’ve hurt you, you deserve to know I haven’t, but I’m just for you, yeah?” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “I’d be crazy to want anything other than this—other than you.” You couldn’t help but giggle softly at his words, a smile breaking through the lingering doubt.

“Yeah,” you teased lightly, “I know just what you like, huh?” You teased. Jude’s eyes glinted with warmth and mischief as he hummed in agreement. His hands dropping to squeeze your ass and pull your body flush against his. 

“Oh, you seem to know more than that,” he said, his voice dropping to a playful murmur. “So good f’me. Always have been.” He cooed. Your heart fluttered at the affection in his words, and you buried your face into his chest, feeling the tension dissolve into a soft, shared laughter. It was as though the vulnerability of the moment had brought you even closer, deepening the bond between you two. Jude kissed the top of your head and held you tighter, both of you sinking back into that familiar, comforting space, knowing that you were exactly where you belonged—together. You lay there in the silence of the night dipping into the early morning, wrapped up in each other. 

The world felt quiet, still, like nothing existed outside this moment. Jude's arms were securely around you, You had moved for his chest to be pressed against your back, and his steady breaths brushed your hair. 

“I missed you so much, angel… I missed going to sleep with you.” Jude whispered, breaking the silence. His voice was raw, and it tugged at something deep inside you. You shifted slightly in his arms, turning your head enough to catch a glimpse of him. 

“Did you ever think about me when we were apart?” You asked fairly naively considering he was in New York so evidently he had. 

“Every night,” he admitted softly. “Every fucking night, angel. I couldn’t escape you. I hated when we got to a point when your scent started to fade from my sheets, but even then you were still there, in my dreams.” He told you. You felt a rush of emotion, his words hitting you harder than you expected. You blinked back the sudden sting of tears, trying to keep your voice light, even teasing.

“Well,” you said with a playful smile, “I didn’t want to let you go that easily.” You cooed. Jude chuckled softly, his breath warm against the nape of your neck.

“I wouldn’t have let you anyway.”  Jude told you through a tired laugh. “Missed falling asleep with you in my arms, ya’know.” He whispered, keeping his voice quiet in the dark room. 

“I did too. You know what I missed?” You smiled coyly. Jude hummed. “I really missed the way your cock pushes into me when we cuddle like this.” You pushed your ass back into Jude so his hard cock nestled  just barely in between your ass cheeks. “I love going to sleep feeling that.” You cooed laced with seduction, getting a second wave having this gorgeous boy back in your bed. It was honest though, you did miss it. 

“Fuck. Angel, c’mon I’m knackered don’t start.” Jude breathily laughed, pulling you tighter to him, further pushing himself against you. Despite his caution, he betrayed himself. “I just missed my hands on you. Missed getting you out of all those silly little things you’d wear to bed every night.” He kissed your temple as his massive hands ran over your warm skin. 

“I know you like that. I come to bed with such cute lingerie sets on for you to see and I just end up naked.” You giggled, placing your hands over his, turning your head back to look up and see the smug greedy smile on his face. 

“Eh, that’s okay baby. I like seeing you climb into bed with them on and I really like taking them off of you. I still appreciate them. Just you know… better on my floor is the saying, hmm?” He smirked squeezing you. You shook your head but couldn’t hold back the giggle remembering that very phrase vividly from when you first met in Greece.  As you cuddled closer, letting yourself sink further into him, you felt his lips graze your bare shoulder, pressing a gentle kiss there. It was such a small gesture, but it meant everything. That single kiss held all the love, the longing, and the promise of everything you’d been through together. You took a deep breath, but it caught in your throat as you felt the tears well up again. The overwhelming flood of emotions, the relief of being back in his arms, was too much. 

“I never thought I’d miss someone kissing my shoulder,” you whispered, your voice cracking just a little. Jude heard it, the fragility in your voice, and without a word, he kissed your shoulder again, more tenderly this time. 

“You’ll never have to miss that again,” he whispered back, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke. His words wrapped around your heart, and you couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. They slipped silently down your cheeks, but this time they weren’t out of sadness—they were out of relief. Jude’s arms tightened around you, his lips lingering on your skin, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you were exactly where you belonged. You turned your face into the pillow, not wanting him to see your tears, but Jude noticed. He always noticed. He kissed your hair, then whispered against your ear, “I’ll never stop loving you. Never. Never stop kissing this shoulder.” He kissed you again. And as you lay there, in the quiet, secure in his embrace, you believed him. Every word.

Waking up with Jude after he arrived in New York felt like slipping into a dream, you didn’t want to leave your bed. The morning sunlight peeked through the sheer curtains, casting a soft, golden hue across the room. You were nestled against him, his body warm and solid beneath you, one of his arms draped lazily over your waist, pulling you close as if even in sleep, he couldn’t bear to be apart from you. His breath was soft against the top of your head, a steady, calming rhythm. You could feel the slow rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek, the comforting beat of his heart grounding you in the moment. It was one of those rare mornings where time seemed to stop, and the rest of the world didn’t matter. You blinked your eyes open slowly, taking in the sight of him—his hair slightly messier than he’d ever want it, the peaceful expression on his face as he slept, his jawline softened in the morning light. For a moment, you just watched him, marveling at the fact that he was there, with you, after everything. You shifted slightly, and Jude stirred beneath you, his grip tightening around your waist as he let out a sleepy, contented sigh. His eyes fluttered open, and when he saw you looking at him, a sleepy smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"Wow. Good morning beautiful girl," he murmured, his voice rough from sleep, but there was a warmth in it that made your heart swell. A sleepy smile pulling on his lips as he took you in. You smiled back, your fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on his chest. 

"Good morning," you whispered back with a bit of a giggle. For a moment, neither of you moved, content to just be there, wrapped in each other’s warmth. But then Jude shifted, rolling onto his back and pulling you with him so that you were lying on top of him, your faces inches apart. His hands found their way to your ass, his touch gentle but firm as he held you close.

“God, I really fucking missed you, angel” he whispered, his eyes searching yours as if to make sure you knew just how much he meant it. You felt a lump form in your throat at his words, and you nodded, leaning down to brush your lips against his in a soft, lingering kiss. 

“I missed you too.” You whispered, your lips ghosting over his. Jude smiled against your lips, his hands sliding up your back, pulling you even closer. 

“You know,” he said, his voice low and teasing, “I’m not sure I can ever let you out of my sight again.” He cooed. You giggled, your heart fluttering at the way he was looking at you, so full of love and something deeper, something unspoken but understood. 

"You don’t have to," you whispered, resting your forehead against his. "I’m not going anywhere." He let out a soft chuckle, his hands tightening around you as he kissed your temple, then your cheek, and finally your lips again, slow and unhurried. 

“Good,” he murmured against your lips, his voice filled with a mix of relief and contentment. You laid there for a while, tangled up in each other, the world outside the window fading away as you reveled in the warmth and comfort of simply being together. The city noise hummed softly in the background, but in that moment, it felt like it was just the two of you, wrapped up in your own little bubble. As the minutes passed, you found yourself unable to stop smiling. It felt surreal, having him here, waking up next to him after so much time apart. You could feel the love radiating off him, in the way he touched you, in the way he looked at you like you were the most precious thing in his world. Eventually, Jude broke the comfortable silence, his voice playful as he whispered in your ear, “So, what’s the plan for today? Staying in bed all day sounds pretty good to me.” You laughed, burying your face in the crook of his neck. 

"That doesn’t sound too bad," you admitted, feeling the familiar comfort of his embrace. But then you lifted your head, looking into his eyes with a soft smile. "Although… Maybe we could go get some coffee… please.” You smiled with a childish smile. Jude raised an eyebrow, his smile widening before he began to tease.

"You can’t mean from your kitchen?" He mocked you a little. You grinned, nodding.

"It’s one of the few things I take pride in making in that kitchen.” You added, leaning in to kiss him again. Jude’s laughter rumbled through his chest as he kissed you back, his hands finding their way back to your waist. The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, continuing to cast a golden glow over his bare chest. Your fingers absentmindedly traced the contours of his skin, feeling the steady, reassuring beat of his heart beneath your touch. His arms were wrapped around you, holding you close, as if neither of you could bear to be apart even for a second, even for coffee. Not yet. You lifted your head slightly, catching his gaze, and the emotions that had been building up within you—emotions you had kept locked away—finally rose to the surface. A seriousness washed over the room. 

“I love you,” you said, your voice trembling slightly with emotion. “I’m pretty sure… from the very first moment we made eye contact, I knew this would be the kind of love that could destroy me.” You unintentionally frowned.  The words came out softly, but there was a weight behind them, a truth that had been waiting too long to be spoken. Jude’s eyes darkened with emotion as he processed your words. He reached up, gently brushing a loose strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek as if grounding you both in the reality of this moment. His touch was gentle, but the look in his eyes was intense—like he was feeling everything just as deeply as you were. He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling beneath you, and you could feel the gravity of what he was about to say. 

“I know,” he whispered, his voice low and full of raw emotion. “Looking back… it’s been a little like a hurricane, innit? Something so powerful that you can’t control it, even if you wanted to.” He cooed. You nodded, your throat tight as you remembered all the moments you’d shared, the highs and lows, the intensity of it all. It had been overwhelming at times, but as Jude said, it was like a force of nature—uncontrollable, inevitable. He held your gaze, his eyes softening as he continued, “But we can weather any storm, hmm?” He hummed and you nodded. “I’m sorry it took me so long to get here. You were patient with me… and for that, I’m so thankful. You’re everything I could’ve ever wanted—everything I never thought I’d be lucky enough to have.” Hearing him say those words—words you had waited for, words you hadn’t known you needed so desperately—made your heart swell. Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away, smiling through the emotion that threatened to overwhelm you. You laid your cheek back down on his chest, letting the warmth of his skin soothe you, the steady thrum of his heartbeat a comforting rhythm beneath your ear. It was quiet, and peaceful, but the love between you was louder than words could express. His hand stroked your back, sending gentle waves of comfort through you, and the quietness of the room felt sacred, like nothing outside of this moment mattered. You felt so safe in his arms, like this was where you were meant to be all along. As if this love, intense and unrelenting as it was, had finally settled in a way that felt whole.

“I’ll never stop loving you,” you whispered against his skin, your voice muffled slightly by his chest. “Not for a second.” Jude’s arms tightened around you, pulling you even closer, like he never wanted to let you go.

 “Please don’t,” he whispered back, his voice soft but firm. “I love you, angel.” The depth of the words hit you both, but then, as if breaking the tension, you let out a soft, breathy laugh. You lifted your head, meeting his gaze again, this time with a lightness that hadn’t been there before. Jude’s lips curved into a smile as he looked at you, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. “What?” he asked, his thumb brushing over your cheek. You smiled, shaking your head slightly, but you couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up again. 

“I don’t know,” you admitted, feeling a little giddy now that everything was out in the open. “It’s just… we finally said it. We’re finally saying we love each other.” Jude chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he pulled you closer. 

“I know,” he said with a grin. “Little overdue, no?” You nodded, biting your lip as you laughed. 

“Yeah, about time. Honestly, it was so hard not to say it before. There were so many moments when I just wanted to blurt it out.” You shyly smiled thinking of all the times you almost said it, almost typed it. 

“Oh yeah? Like when?” Jude raised an eyebrow, teasing you.  You thought back to the many times you had come close—so many little moments, like when you’d see him smile, or when he’d do something kind without thinking. 

“I don’t know,” you said with a smile. “All the time, really. When we were lying in bed like this, or even when you were just being yourself. I just wanted to text it to you out of the blue.” You explained. It felt like the phrase was a nervous tick. Jude laughed at that, his chest vibrating beneath you. 

“Yeah?” He asked, interested. You giggled, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. 

“Yeah, but I chickened out every time. Sometimes I wasn’t sure if you deserved to know. If I wanted you to know.” You confessed. He shook his head with an amused grin, his hands running up and down your back soothingly. 

“That’s fair. Probably didn't deserve it. But, I’m glad you finally said it now.” Jude told you. You lifted your head again, meeting his eyes with a smile that mirrored his own. 

“Me too.” You muttered. Jude leaned in, his lips brushing softly against yours in a tender kiss. When he pulled back, he whispered against your lips, 

“I’ll never make you wait for anything again. Not another kiss, not another second of knowing how much I love you.” He mused and you smiled, your heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time. 

“Never?”  You giggled. 

“Never,” he promised with a grin, sealing his vow with another kiss. And for the first time, everything felt right—no more waiting, no more wondering. You were in love, and you both knew it, and it felt like the most beautiful thing in the world. The only thing you could really focus on was Jude, holding you so close you felt like you were sharing the same heartbeat. His arms had stayed wrapped around you the entire night, like a protective cocoon you never wanted to leave. You felt safe, cherished, and loved. You stretched lazily, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep, but even as you moved, Jude’s arms never left you. Instead, he stayed close, almost glued to you, his chest pressed to your back as if he couldn’t bear the thought of letting you go. You smiled softly to yourself, that familiar warmth spreading through your chest.

“Okay, so I was serious, I really need coffee” you muttered groggily as you slowly made your way toward the kitchen. “But you’re in for a treat. Mon café du matin”  ['my morning coffee'] Jude hummed lowly, the sound reverberating through his chest. His lips brushed against the back of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. 

“You already treated me pretty well last night,” he teased in a hushed tone, a playful smirk in his voice. A small laugh escaped your lips as you shook your head. 

“I meant with my coffee, Jude,” you said, glancing back at him with a teasing smile of your own. “But I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” He chuckled again, his breath warm against your skin. 

“Oh, I definitely did. But you know, I could get used to this as well… and definitely that,” he added, his arms tightening around you briefly before he loosened his hold just enough to let you move freely.

“I agree,” you admitted softly, your voice quieter now as you reached for the cabinet to grab your french press. “I’m not ready to leave this little bubble we’re in yet.” You glanced down at yourself, still in his oversized shirt that barely skimmed the tops of your thighs. Jude was just in his shorts, and the sight of him so comfortable and relaxed only made you want to stay in this moment forever. Jude leaned back against the kitchen island, his eyes following your every move. 

“I’m not complaining,” he said with a grin, his gaze heavy as he watched you reach up into a cupboard. The shirt lifted slightly with the motion, revealing a glimpse of the curve of your ass and you could practically feel his eyes on you. As you stood on your tiptoes, trying to grab the coffee grounds from the top shelf, Jude moved toward you, his large frame effortlessly closing the distance between you. He pressed up behind you, his chest warm against your back as he reached over your head. “Here, let me help,” he said, his voice a low murmur in your ear. His fingers brushed against yours as he took down the coffee grounds, his touch sending a small thrill through you.

“I could’ve gotten it,” you said, though there was no real protest in your voice. His closeness was something you’d never tire of. You turned slightly, giving him a playful look.

“I know,” he replied softly, his lips dangerously close to your ear. “But I like helping.” With a small smile tugging at your lips, you turned back to the counter, setting up the French press. You worked quietly, enjoying the comfort of the moment, the smell of freshly ground coffee filling the air. Jude leaned against the island, still watching you intently, as if you were the most captivating thing in the room and you were to him. 

“I can help, you know,” he offered again with a grin, his hands resting on the counter as he leaned forward slightly. You waved him off with a teasing smile. 

“You can help by staying right there and looking pretty,” you quipped, your voice playful but affectionate. His grin widened, his eyes sparkling with that familiar mischief. 

“I can manage that.” You reached up into another cupboard for the milk frother, but once again, it was just out of your reach. Jude was behind you in an instant, his hands gently guiding yours as he grabbed it for you. “You really don’t use this kitchen.” He laughed teasingly. “I’ve got you, angel,” he whispered softly, his breath warm against your neck, and it made your heart flutter. You rolled your eyes, but the smile on your face was undeniable. 

“What would I do without you?” you teased. 

“I don’t know,” he replied, his voice full of mock seriousness as he handed you the frother. “Probably suffer in silence without my help.” You laughed softly, shaking your head as you finished preparing the coffee. You frothed the milk carefully, the warm, creamy foam rising perfectly in the cup, and finally poured the coffee, the rich, dark liquid filling the air with its inviting aroma. You handed Jude his cup with a satisfied smile, and he accepted it, his fingers brushing against yours for just a moment longer than necessary. He took a sip, his eyes still locked on yours. 

“Perfect,” he murmured, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small, appreciative smile. “But I think watching you make it was the best part.” You rolled your eyes again, playfully this time, but you couldn’t help the warm flush that spread across your cheeks. 

“You’re so full of shit,” you muttered under your breath, though there was no real bite to your words. Jude placed the coffee cup down on the counter and pulled you into his arms once more, his hands sliding around your waist. 

“And yet you love me,” he whispered, his voice low and filled with affection. You leaned into him, resting your head against his chest, your arms wrapping around his waist. 

“Yeah,” you murmured softly, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I really do.” The two of you stood there for a while, wrapped in each other, the world outside the apartment feeling like a distant memory. It was just you and him, in this quiet, perfect moment—your own little bubble where nothing else mattered. And in that moment, everything felt exactly right. Jude took another slow sip of the coffee, savoring the taste with an exaggerated hum of approval. 

“Wait a minute,” he said, his voice tinged with mock seriousness. He set the cup down with a dramatic thud and raised an eyebrow at you. “Why have you never made this for me before?” You giggled, taking a small sip from your own cup, pleased that he liked it. 

“Oh, I mean,” you waffled, “It’s not that I was purposely withholding good coffee from you.” Jude leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, a playful pout on his lips. 

“Feels like I’ve been slighted,” he said, tilting his head as if genuinely offended. “This is really good coffee.” He explained as if you didn’t know. You laughed, shaking your head. 

“Well, you don’t have a French press in Madrid, so it wouldn’t be the same,” you explained with a small shrug. “Plus, these beans are from my favorite cafe in France, so… it’s kind of a special treat.” Jude’s expression didn’t change; instead, he squinted at you in mock offense. 

“Oh, look at me, my coffee is European,” he said, throwing his hands in the air dramatically, his voice bouncing around the kitchen. He heightened his voice into a thick, exaggerated version of your accent and mimicked you in a teasing tone. You scoffed and rolled your eyes at him, feigning annoyance, though you couldn’t help the smile creeping onto your face. 

“You’re actually so annoying.” you said, brushing past him toward the sink. But just as you tried to walk by, you felt a sudden tug at the hem of your shirt, pulling you back. Jude wrapped his arms around you from behind, pulling you against his chest as he slid his hands under your shirt, his fingers trailing lightly over your bare skin. His touch sent a small shiver up your spine, and you melted back into him instinctively.

“If I promise to get you a French press,” he murmured against your ear, his voice low and filled with playful affection, “and I find these fancy Parisian coffee beans—” he paused to squint at the label on the bag you’d left on the counter, “Café du something or other—will you make me this coffee again in Madrid?” You couldn’t help but laugh at how serious he was pretending to be. You leaned your head back against his chest, letting his warmth envelop you as you smirked. 

“If you promise to get the Maison Flaneu French press.” You stressed the brand. “and the coffee beans, then yes,” you said, turning your head slightly to catch his eyes. “I’ll make it for you whenever you want.” Jude’s grin widened, his eyes lighting up. 

“Deal,” he said, and before you could say anything else, he leaned down to press a kiss to your neck, his lips lingering just long enough to send another shiver through you. You smiled to yourself, feeling that familiar warmth in your chest as he held you close, the two of you wrapped in this perfect moment. The teasing, the affection—it all felt so right, like this was exactly where you were meant to be. And as you stood there, with Jude’s hands still resting on your skin, you knew that no matter where you were—New York, Madrid, maybe even Paris—moments like this would always feel like home. As you sipped your coffee standing at your kitchen island, Jude caught you off guard by asking if he could go to work with you. You laughed, nearly spilling your drink, teasing him lightly, 

"I wasn’t even planning on going to the gallery today, but if you really want to, I’ll take you." You explained. Jude, however, was adamant. 

"You’ve been to where I work a hundred times," he said, a slight smile playing on his lips. "I want to see where you do your thing. I’m interested." It was an unexpected request, and it warmed your heart to see how curious and involved he wanted to be in your world. So, with a soft smile, you agreed. You both got ready for the day, heading out into the crisp Manhattan morning, you in a brown cropped cardigan, Jude in a cream jumper. The ride over was quiet but comfortable, both of you lost in your thoughts. The city buzzed with its usual energy as the Uber wound through the streets, finally pulling up outside the gallery district on the west side. When you arrived, Jude leaned forward, squinting through the car window at the sight of your last name engraved in elegant gold lettering on the plate outside the gallery entrance. He clicked his tongue, impressed, a low whistle escaping him. 

"Damn, okay" he murmured, a playful grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Your name in gold, huh?" Before you could respond, Jude was already out of the car, rounding it quickly to open your door. He reached for your hand, helping you out with a small smile that made your heart swell. His hand felt warm, grounding, and as you straightened up, he kept your hand in his, but didn’t let you walk toward the gallery door just yet. Instead, he tugged you gently back to him, his eyes soft but serious. "Wait a second," he said, and there was something in his voice that made you pause, looking up at him expectantly. Jude gazed at you, and for a moment, the noise of the city, the bustling streets, and even the fact that you were standing outside your gallery all faded into the background. It was just the two of you, standing there, and the look on his face told you he was about to say something important. "Have I ever told you how proud I am of you?" he asked quietly, his voice low and sincere. His eyes scanned your face, searching for your reaction. "I mean, I always knew you were amazing, but standing here… seeing your name on that plate… I don’t know, it just hit me."  You blinked, taken aback. Your breath caught in your throat as his words settled in. 

"Jude…" you started, but he wasn’t done. He stepped closer, his hand now gently squeezing yours. 

"You’re incredible," he continued, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "I don’t think I’ve told you enough how much I admire what you do. This place—it’s yours. You’ve built this yourself, this career, and I just… I’m really proud of you, angel." There was a vulnerability in his eyes, a rare moment where he let the layers fall away completely, showing you exactly what he felt. It wasn’t just admiration. It was awe. He was in awe of you—of everything you had achieved, everything you were. It felt special that you had a building of your own. You felt a lump form in your throat, your eyes stinging with the sudden threat of tears. Jude had always supported you in his own way, but his job seemed to take importance so hearing him say it like this, with such honesty, struck something deep within you. 

"You… you don’t know what that means to me." Your voice wavered as you spoke. Jude smiled softly, reaching up to brush a strand of hair away from your face. 

"I think I do, I know footie feels like the biggest thing in the world sometimes around me but it's not. I know how important this is, how hard you’ve worked," he murmured, his thumb lingering on your cheek for a moment before dropping back to his side.  For a second, you stood there, caught in the overwhelming emotion of the moment. The pride in his eyes, the sincerity in his voice—it was everything you didn’t realize you needed to hear. You swallowed hard, blinking away the tears that had gathered, and gave him a small, watery smile. 

"Come on," you said, your voice still thick with emotion, "let’s go inside." Jude smiled back, his hand slipping around your waist as the two of you finally made your way into the gallery. But the words he had said outside stayed with you the entire day, a warmth that filled your chest, reminding you just how deeply he understood and valued you. As you stepped inside the gallery, Jude spun slowly, taking in the large white space adorned with the current exhibition. His eyes wandered from the walls to the art and then back to you. A small, proud smile curled at the edges of his lips. He was trying to take it all in—the breadth of what you’d created.  You tried to play it modest, shrugging as you noticed the small line of people forming outside the entrance. There were appointments scheduled for the day, gallery tours, and more. It was busy, but in a way that felt fulfilling. Still, you felt the need to downplay it, like you weren’t completely running an entire space that was clearly a success. "So, what do you think?" you asked, trying to keep it casual. Jude turned his attention fully to you, his eyes soft but filled with pride. 

"It’s incredible," he said. "But of course, it is. You’re behind it." You blushed, laughing it off, 

"You’re just saying that because you’re in love with me." You told him. He gave you a cheeky grin. 

"Maybe. But it’s still true." He cooed. You gestured for him to follow as you began showing him around the space, pointing out the different pieces on display. Jude nodded along, listening as you explained the curation process, the artists you’d chosen, and the themes that ran through the exhibition. After a while, you glanced over at him.

"Want to see my office?" There was a playful lilt in your voice, and Jude raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Your office?" he repeated, as if he hadn’t really considered the fact that either of you had what could be classified as an ‘office job.’ You rolled your eyes at his reaction, teasing. 

"Yeah, someone’s got to actually run this place. You think it just happens on its own?" You giggled and he followed with a chuckle, then tilted his head, giving you a curious look. 

"I guess I never really thought of it like that." He smiled. You led the way, and Jude followed closely behind, his arms suddenly slipping around your waist from behind. He rested his chin gently on your shoulder as you walked, and for a moment, you felt the warmth of him against your back. It was comforting, grounding, like he was anchoring himself to you—and you to him.

"You know," you continued, your voice soft, "I feel like more of a figurehead these days. There’s a whole team that keeps things running day-to-day, but I still have to occasionally show up and make the decisions. Keep the place alive but I keep finding myself out of the country in Spain." You teased. Jude squeezed your waist gently, his voice soft in your ear.

"And Spain really likes when you’re there. Any county is very lucky to have you. Any man even more so, angel. But you’re doing more than keeping it alive. You’ve built something amazing. You should be proud." The sincerity in his words made your heart ache in the best way. He was seeing you in a way that felt so validating, so true. You’d spent so long doubting whether you could balance everything—your career, your relationship with Jude, your life in New York—and hearing him acknowledge your success like this was overwhelming in the best way. You reached the office, a modest but well-decorated space tucked away at the back of the gallery. Jude looked around, impressed. It was your sanctuary, filled with art books, framed photos, and personal touches that made it distinctly yours. You could see the wheels turning in his head as he took it all in, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

"Not what you expected?" you asked, turning to face him. He grinned, leaning against the desk, arms crossed over his chest.

"I don’t know what I expected. But this… this is pretty perfect, like an extension of your apartment, you in a room." You smiled, leaning into him, and for a moment, there was a comfortable silence between you. Jude lifted his hand to your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly across your skin. "I know I keep saying it," he murmured, "but I honestly am so fucking proud of you. Seeing it first hand is just different." Your breath hitched, the sincerity in his eyes making your heart flutter. You didn’t respond with words—you didn’t need to. Instead, you leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, letting the moment speak for itself. You giggled, catching Jude’s attention. 

"Can I show you my favorite part?" You asked with a glint in your eyes. He nodded eagerly but with a hint of confusion, glancing around the small office. 

"Uh… sure, but where? I feel like we’ve already seen everything." Smirking, you leaned back against what looked like a solid wall, but with a gentle push, it gave way, revealing a hidden door. Jude's eyes widened in surprise before bursting into laughter.

"Why do you have that?" he asked, still chuckling in disbelief. You shrugged, grinning. 

"The previous owners of the building had it installed. Figured I’d keep it for secret escapes." Without further explanation, you led the way through the hidden door, which opened to a small, bright staircase. Jude followed behind, his curiosity piqued. The stairs were narrow and led up to the roof of the building. As you reached the top, the cool New York air hit your skin, and you stepped out onto the rooftop. It wasn’t the highest rooftop in Manhattan—not by a long shot—but there was something undeniably beautiful about it. The surrounding buildings framed a small slice of sky, and the quietness of the tucked-away street made the space feel like a secret oasis in the bustling city. You turned to Jude, watching his expression as he took it all in. "I come up here for everything," you said softly. "To think, to drink, to have friends over. To escape when I need a breather... to paint." You paused, your voice dropping a little. "To cry, lately." Jude’s heart shattered at your admission. He hadn’t realized how much you’d been carrying on your own since the fallout between you two. Without hesitation, he stepped forward, wrapping his arms around you from behind. He held you close, his chin resting on your shoulder again as he swayed with you in a gentle rhythm, offering comfort the only way he knew how.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered against your ear. “For all of it.” He murmured. You closed your eyes, feeling his embrace sink into you.

"It's okay now." You whispered back to him. The thing was… you actually thought it was okay. The warmth of his body against yours felt like home again, the weight of everything that had happened finally starting to lift. Jude kissed the top of your head softly.

"Do you think I can add something to the list of things you do up here?" He asked you gently. You turned slightly, curiosity lighting up your face. 

"What’s that?" You asked. He leaned in, his eyes locking onto yours, and you knew before he even said a word. He closed the space between you, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that was soft but filled with everything he couldn’t say. You felt the love pouring through it—the promises, the apologies, the commitment—and you melted into him, letting it wash over you. When you finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you smiling. “That’s a very good addition.” You giggled. In that moment, surrounded by the city, it felt like the world had paused for just the two of you.

After you left the gallery, you walked down the busy New York street, hand in hand with Jude, it was all bizarre. It was like every step, every glance around felt charged, and you were acutely aware of how the world seemed to stare at him—or maybe at the two of you together, more than ever. If people didn’t know he was the Jude Bellingham, they certainly noticed the way he commanded attention—tall, striking, and beautiful in every sense of the word. His presence was magnetic, and you couldn’t help but glance up at him too, still in awe of the fact that he was here, beside you. You felt lucky. You didn’t want to be anywhere but with him. You reached a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change as you nestled closer into him. Jude responded instantly, pulling you tighter against him with a gentle sway, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your hair. It was one of those moments that felt too perfect, too intimate to be happening in such a bustling city. The world around you blurred, and it was just you two, back in your little bubble again. But then, his voice cut through the comfort of the moment. 

“Come back home.” Jude asked you quietly.  You pulled back slightly, your brow furrowed, trying to make sense of what he was asking.

“Jude, this is my home,” you gestured around, pointing to the towering buildings and streets filled with life. But you kind of pouted. The sentence felt wrong. This wasn’t your home, it hadn’t felt that way for awhile. Jude was your home but nevertheless laced with fear of really committing, you told him otherwise. “New York is my home.” He shook his head, a soft but sure smile tugging at his lips as he looked down at you. 

“Your home should be with me.” His words sank into you, deeper than you expected. His voice was steady, filled with an unmistakable certainty. “Anywhere can be home if we’re together.” His hands found their way to your waist, his fingers pressing gently into your skin as he leaned in, his lips just ghosting over yours. “Please,” he whispered, his voice a mix of longing and vulnerability. Your heart fluttered, your chest tight as the weight of his request settled. This was what you had been craving from Jude all along—his honesty, his willingness to fight for you, to make it clear that you belonged with him, that he needed you. “I’m not asking you to stop working with the gallery, I wouldn’t do that. I know how important that is, I told you how proud I am for doing just that but… angel just come be with me. Please. I don't want to be apart right now.” Jude unintentionally pouted. His heart sinking at the idea of being apart again, something that had definitely crossed your own mind.

“Okay.” You whispered softly. You bit your lip, the corners of your mouth lifting into a cheeky smile as you nodded. You couldn’t say no. You didn’t want to say no. His eyes brightened at your answer, a quiet relief washing over his face as he pulled you even closer. This was the side of Jude you had been waiting to see, the side that wasn’t afraid to take control, to tell you what he wanted. And in that moment, you knew that you’d made the right decision. You wanted this, you wanted him.

As you and Jude boarded the private plane bound for Madrid at JFK, exhaustion weighed heavily on you. You really hadn’t been sleeping much at all because of Jude. Before he arrived you couldn’t sleep because you missed him. Now, you couldn’t sleep because you were staying up fucking all night. Tiredly, you clung to Jude, both of you in sweat sets, your arms loosely wrapped around him as he effortlessly carried your smaller pieces of luggage onto the plane. The coziness of your clothes, the intimacy of the small gestures—it all felt like the home you were looking for except you were on tarmac. Once on board, Jude, ever the drama queen, made a show of dropping onto one of the plush seats, pulling you down with him in a clumsy, playful tumble. You giggled tiredly, the sound soft and content as you nestled into him, your body melting into his as if it belonged there. After a few moments, you started to shift, slinking off Jude to pull your jumper off in a sluggish attempt to get comfortable. But as you did, the fabric snagged on your shirt underneath, pulling it up with it and exposing a lot more of you then you were anticipating; revealing a tantalizing glimpse of your skin and the lacy black bra that barely contained your generous cleavage. You sucked in some air, your eyes widening as you realized the unintended striptease. Jude's eyes widened comically, his hand darting out to dramatically yank the shirt back down as if you were flashing a stadium full of people. 

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," he teased, covering you up with an exaggerated flourish. "This is a private plane, angel, but it’s not that private." You couldn’t help but laugh at his antics, the tiredness fading away for a moment as you swatted his arm.

"Relax, Judey, it's just you and me." You cooed mischievously with a wink. He grinned, still playing up his faux alarm. You’d be lying though if you said your heart didn't race. You glanced around, hoping none of the cabin crew had witnessed your accidental exposure.

"Exactly, and I know how I get when you're taking your clothes off. Gotta make sure you don’t strip down completely." You rolled your eyes, sinking back into his side, feeling his arm wrap protectively around your shoulders.  Jude's eyes sparkled with amusement as he looked down at you after your predicament. "Well go on then…if you want to take your clothes off f’me, take your clothes off f’me.” He winked, his gaze burning into you. 

"Oh, really? Now you want to see? And what if I don't feel like putting on a show for you right now?" Feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment and arousal, you tried to play it cool. Jude's smile turned devilish. He pressed a button, and the cabin crew appeared, ready to assist. 

"Actually, we won't be needing anything for a while," he said, waving them off. "If we could just have a few minutes, we’d like some privacy." The attendants nodded discreetly and retreated, leaving you alone with Jude and your growing desire. He leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "Now, take that shirt off f’me, baby. Let me see you." Your breath caught in your throat as you surrendered to his request. Slowly, you raised your arms, your fingers deftly peeling your top up over your head until you and your black lace clad tits were exposed. Your nipples immediately hardened in the cool air, begging for attention. Jude's eyes darkened with hunger as he feasted on the sight of your naked body. "Fuck, you're gorgeous," he growled, reaching out to cup your heavy breasts in his large hands. His thumbs brushed over your nipples, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. You moaned softly, arching into his touch, your inhibitions melting away. He unclasped the bra and the fabric fell. 

"Please, Jude," you whispered, your voice hoarse with need. "I want you so bad." He leaned in, capturing one taut peak between his lips, sucking gently while his fingers pinched the other, eliciting a delicious moan from your lips. His tongue teased and flicked, driving you wild with desire. You squirmed against him, your core throbbing and aching for his touch.

"You taste so fucking sweet," he murmured against your sensitive flesh as his hands ideally pulled down your joggers. "I want to taste all of you." Before you could respond, Jude's mouth trailed kisses down your stomach, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.  “Let me see more of you.” Jude looked up from beneath you, his eyes locking with yours, and he gave you a wicked grin.  He gently pushed your legs apart, his breath hot on your inner thighs, making you tremble with anticipation. You knew what was coming, and you couldn't wait to feel his talented mouth on more of you. You whimpered, your body already on fire, as Jude's fingers gently parted your folds, exposing your glistening pussy. He leaned in, his warm breath tickling your sensitive skin, and then his tongue swiped slowly through your slit, making you gasp.

"Oh, fuck Jude," you cried out, your fingers gripping the plush seat as he teased your clit with the tip of his tongue. He took his time, licking and sucking, driving you closer to the edge with each pass. Your hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more of his mouth, more of his skilled touch.

"That's it, angel," Jude encouraged, his voice thick with desire. He delved deeper, his tongue thrusting into your wetness, finding your sweet spot with ease. Your body trembled as he devoured you, his hands gripping your thighs, holding you open for his pleasure. Even as you tried to close your legs he pinned them open. 

"I'm gonna cum, Jude! Shit!!” You felt white hot pleasure begin to course through you. You were practically shaking but Jude held you tighter to him as he ate you out. Your voice hoarse and desperate. The sensations were overwhelming, and you felt your orgasm building, tightening every muscle in your body.  “I love you, oh my god fuck I’m cumming!” Jude increased the pace, his tongue working feverishly, driving you over the edge. You climaxed with a shout, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure washed over you. He didn't let up, continuing to lap at your sensitive flesh, drawing out your orgasm until you were reduced to a trembling, satisfied mess.

"You wanna be a good girl f’me?" he said, his voice rough with need. You nodded as your breathing slowly returned to normal, Jude rose, his eyes smoldering with desire. “You’re so fucking hot, baby.” Jude moaned as you traded places with him, beginning to work kisses down his neck. You kissed at his chest and slowly started to get onto your knees in front of him. “Fuck you’re perfect.”  You eagerly slid off his joggers your hands trembling with anticipation as you freed his straining erection. His cock was thick and hard, pulsing with each heartbeat. You stroked him gently, reveling in the feel of his velvety skin and the warmth of his length in your hand. His breath hitched as your hands wrapped around his hard cock.  "Suck my cock, angel," Jude growled, his eyes never leaving yours. "Show me how much you want it." He told you. You needed no further encouragement. You wasted no time, immediately leaning forward, you took the head of his cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the sensitive crown, tasting the salty pre-cum that beaded at the tip. Jude groaned, his hands tangling in your hair, guiding you as you took more of him into your hot, wet mouth. You bobbed your head, taking him deep, your throat welcoming the invasion. Your hand pumped the base of his shaft in time with your movements, and you reveled in the power you had over this gorgeous man. Jude's breath came in harsh gasps as he fought for control, his hips thrusting gently to meet your rhythm. You moaned again around him, the vibrations just about sending Jude over the edge. You hollowed your cheeks and forced yourself to take more of his cock down your throat. Spit pooled in the corners of your mouth as you gagged a little around him.  “Fuck, good girl, just like that” Jude groaned. His words making your pussy throb. He started to twitch in your mouth as he hit the back of your throat continuously "Baby, you're gonna make me cum," he rasped, his body tensing. You redoubled your efforts, sucking and stroking, determined to bring him to the brink. Jude's hands tightened in your hair, and with a guttural groan, he spilled in your mouth, his hot cum shooting down your throat. You opened your mouth for him to see his cum dripping from your tongue before you swallowed eagerly, relishing the taste of him, milking his cock until he was spent. You opened your mouth again to show him how good you did. He smiled and shook his head in disbelief as he pulled you off him slowly and brought you back up to him. As he recovered, Jude pulled you up for a deep, passionate kiss, his tongue tangling with yours, sharing the taste of his release. "That was fucking incredible," he whispered in between kisses, his eyes burning into yours. "I need to feel you around me now." You straddled his lap, guiding his already re hardened throbbing cock to your entrance. With a slow, torturous descent, you sank yourself down onto his length, your body welcoming the fullness. Eliciting a deep moan from both of you. Your eyes fluttering closed from the stretch. Jude's hands gripped your hips, helping you set a relentless pace, your tits bouncing with each thrust. "You feel so good, angel," he groaned, his eyes rolling back in pleasure. "Ride me, ride my cock." You obeyed, your body moving in a sensual rhythm, your core clenching and releasing around his hardness. The cabin was filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and your erotic moans as you both chased the pinnacle of pleasure minute after minute.

“Fuck! Ffuck Jude, I’m gonna cum. Shit baby, you feel so good, oh my god.” Your head collapsed onto his shoulder as he relentlessly thrusted up into you as your high barrelled towards you.  You could barely speak from how good he felt. 

"Cum with me, baby," Jude urged, his voice hoarse. "Let go. Be a good girl and cum on my cock." Your body tightened, every nerve ending on fire as you spiraled towards ecstasy. Jude's hands cupped your tits, his thumbs brushing over your sensitive nipples, pushing you over the edge. Your stomach tightened and your walls fluttered as you came. You cried out, your body convulsing around his cock as you climaxed, your juices flowing freely, coating him with your essence. Jude followed suit, his cock throbbing and pulsing within you as he emptied himself deep inside you. You collapsed against him again, your hearts pounding in unison, the taste of victory on your lips as you joined the exclusive Mile High Club for the first time with him. You snuggled against Jude, your bodies still entwined, satiated and blissfully content.The plane hummed softly around you, the gentle noise blending with the quiet rhythm of Jude’s breathing. You sighed, resting your head on his chest, feeling the warmth of his body seep into yours. 

"I can’t believe you got me like that from me just trying to take off a jumper.” You shook your head very aware there was no possible way the cabin crew didn’t hear you. Jude shrugged as if it was no big deal. “Oh my god…You're such a loser," you muttered teasingly, your voice muffled against his chest. It wasn’t ‘no big deal’ to Jude and you knew that.

"And you love it," he replied, kissing the top of your head. You smiled against him, your exhaustion finally winning out as you settled deeper into his embrace. As the plane glided through the air leaving New York behind, you knew with Jude by your side, Madrid—or anywhere else for that matter—felt like home. You smiled against him, your exhaustion finally winning out as you settled deeper into his embrace. As you lay in Jude’s arms on the plane, the hum of the engines lulling you into a comfortable calm, you felt safe. It was the kind of peace you’d been yearning for after everything you two had been through. Half way through the flight you began a quiet conversation. But as Jude brought up Aurélien’s party, his tone was tentative, pulling you out of your thoughts. You nodded, shifting slightly to look up at him, 

"Yeah, I heard about it. He texted me." You tried to keep your voice light, sensing the unease creeping into the conversation. Jude knew you’d spoken but you didn’t know he knew that. Jude winced, and you noticed how his hand tightened a little around you. There was something weighing on him.

"Didn’t know you even had his number," he said, awkwardly trying to navigate the conversation. His voice was low, careful. Your brow furrowed, confusion mixing with a bit of concern. 

"He gave it to me after we chatted on Instagram. Neither of us really use the app that much, so it was easier. It wasn’t a big deal, baby." You explained. Both of you felt like you were fast approaching an eggshell ridden path. He nodded slowly, clearly still unsettled. His eyes flickered with something you recognized — jealousy, maybe insecurity. Jude had never been good at hiding how much he cared, and even now, with everything back on track, that worry still lingered. 

"Did you two talk about more than the party?" Hesitantly, he asked. His voice was softer, like he was afraid of the answer. Your stomach twisted a little. You didn’t want to lie, but you also didn’t want to hurt him, especially not now, when things were starting to feel good again. Still, honesty was what had made things so rocky and if you were going to rebuild this relationship, you couldn’t hide anymore. You shifted in his arms, not quite meeting his eyes. 

“We… might have talked about the party maybe more than we should’ve,” you admitted quietly, biting your lip as you tried to gauge his reaction. You could feel his body tense beneath you, and the silence that followed was deafening. He swallowed hard, his jaw tightening slightly as he stared at the ceiling of the plane. 

“What does that mean?” he asked, his voice betraying the emotion he was trying to keep in check. He didn’t want to ask — you could tell — but he needed to know. You exhaled, feeling a little scared of where this was going. It was arguably more uncomfortable considering what happened hours earlier in the flights.  

“I mean… it wasn’t anything serious, but I don’t know, you probably wouldn’t want to hear about it.” You tried to sound as casual as possible, but the weight of your words hung in the air between you. Your vagueness seemed to make things worse. Jude’s grip on you loosened slightly, and he let out a shaky breath. 

“What was it then?” He asked. Jude couldn’t figure out what emotion he was meant to feel. You hesitated, knowing that whatever you said next could either calm him down or make things worse. 

“It was flirty I guess,” you admitted, your voice small. “But I swear it didn’t mean anything. I was hurt, and I guess I just needed a distraction.” His face darkened slightly, but he didn’t say anything right away. His eyes were searching yours, trying to figure out if he could handle this, if he could trust that it didn’t mean anything more. You could see the struggle in him — the way he was trying to push down the jealousy, the hurt, the insecurity. 

“I really don’t like the idea of you talking to him like that. I really don’t fucking like the idea of him talking to you like that,” he finally said, his voice tight but not angry. He was holding back, trying to be understanding, but you could feel the weight of his words.

“I know,” you whispered, placing a hand on his chest. “And I’m sorry. But it wasn’t real, Jude. It was just me trying to cope, trying to fill this void that I knew only you could fill.” Jude closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before looking at you again. 

“I get it,” he said softly, surprising you.  You wrapped your arms around him tighter, resting your forehead against his chest. You sat there remembering bits of your conversation you had initially sat in your wardrobe with Aurelian that had moved into your bed that night. The weight of everything you were feeling mixed with the warmth of the champagne you had decided to drink that night, you found yourself slipping into a conversation that felt easier than it should have. Aurélien messaged you about his party, the mundane logistics of the night quickly turning into something else. The champagne had loosened your thoughts, made them flow in a way they normally wouldn’t. You weren’t actually interested in him and Aurelian at the end of the day wasn’t interested in pursuing you. You both weren’t really going to cross that line, but flirting was flirting. He knew maybe it was just to get your mind off things but you knew the moment the conversation shifted, there was a danger in it—but the loneliness inside of you craved something, anything, that would make you feel less empty. Aurélien mentioned how excited he was for champagne that night, and you had laughed, replying with a comment that surprised even you. 

‘I have to be careful with Dom Pérignon… I always get a little too friendly after a few glasses.’

You had thought it would stay light, a harmless joke. But then he replied…

‘No man in the world would ever complain about you being too friendly. Especially not me.’

You blinked at the message, your stomach turning in that way it does when you know you’re toeing the line, but you didn’t stop. You didn’t pull back. Maybe it was the champagne, or maybe it was the hurt that had been building for the past month, but you kept the conversation going. The truth was, in that moment, you loved the attention. You weren’t used to being seen this way by anyone other than Jude lately, and with the state of your relationship then, you had felt starved for affection. The cynicalness of it being Aurelian made it all the more enticing. 

‘I doubt that.’

You had typed back, fingers moving quickly across the keyboard as you laid in your bed, the alcohol making everything a little hazy. 

‘It feels like there are oceans between me and anyone remotely interested in being ‘friendly’ with me.’

You were, of course, thinking about Jude. How distant things had become. But the conversation wasn’t about him anymore—it was about you and Aurélien and this strange tension that had been building between you two in the shadows of your messages. But you didn’t want to stay in that uncomfortable place, so you made another joke, something to shift the tone. 

‘But it’s fine, I’ve got Dom Pérignon in bed with me tonight, and that will have to do.’

His reply came almost instantly. 

‘Dom Pérignon is one lucky man.’

You remembered lying there, staring at your phone, your heart beating a little faster, not because of Aurélien exactly, but because of what this meant. You were crossing lines, even if nothing physical was happening. You were venturing into emotional territory that you didn’t even fully understand. You had craved the connection, but when you put your phone down that night, a small part of you knew you were just trying to fill a void that only Jude could fill. The guilt didn’t set in right away. In the moment, you had felt a strange sense of validation, a thrill that someone was paying attention to you when you had felt so invisible for so long. But as you lay there in the dark, the champagne buzz slowly fading, reality crept in the same way it was on the plane right now.

🪩🫶❤️‍🔥🍹🌞🍒 Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter 🍒🌞🍹❤️‍🔥🫶🪩

Next part - Chapter 13 xx

[winchesterwild78]

A Twist of Fate

Characters: Dean x Reader, Billy x Reader

Warnings: Nothing too extreme, just some angst, language, and fluff

A/N: Got this idea from a picture I was tagged in by @jackles010378. Sorry it took me so long to write this. Dean and the reader were dating and broke up. Dean sees the reader with her new boyfriend and things unravel. 

This is a work of fiction, all work is my own, do not take it or copy it. 

Minors DNI 18+

The crisp autumn air nipped at my nose as Billy and I strolled down Main Street. The leaves were a kaleidoscope of reds, oranges, and yellows, a beautiful contrast to the gray sky. I couldn't help but think about how much my life had changed since I'd last seen Dean.

Three years. That's how long we'd been together. Three years of laughter, love, and a shared passion for the supernatural. And then, just like that, he was gone. A letter, a simple explanation that he couldn't be with me anymore. The pain had been unbearable, a wound that had slowly healed, leaving a scar that I would always carry.

That morning I woke up and found the letter on his pillow. It was the day my world broke. Tears fell on the letter as I read his simple words. 

Dear Y/N,

These past three years have been great. We’ve shared so much and done even more together. I know you love me. You’ve said it so many times, and showed me every day. I just can’t lie to you anymore. I don’t feel the same. That’s not fair to you, to make you think we have a future together. One where we get married and have kids. I can’t do the apple pie life. I’m sorry, Y/N. I do hope you find the love you deserve.

Goodbye,

D

It didn’t make sense to me. We had just shared a night of love and passion, tangled in each other’s embrace. Whispering words of love and affection. We talked of the future and he said he’d love to be a dad one day. He was the love of my life, then he was gone. 

Now, here I was, two years later with Billy. He was kind, considerate, and everything a good man should be. But a part of me couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing.

We met through a mutual friend and had an instant connection. I wouldn’t call it love, but I was grateful for the companionship. I hadn’t even spoken the words to him. Billy was quick to say “I love you”, but I couldn’t say it because I didn’t mean it, nor did I feel it. 

Billy spent all of his free time with me. At times it felt suffocating. Dean and I spent a lot of time together too, but we also had our time apart. I’d bake and he’d work in the garage, it was a perfect balance.

Walking hand in hand through Main Street my mind kept comparing him to Dean. When Dean and I would walk, his arm was around me in a protective way. Billy just held my hand. Dean would lace his fingers in mine, Billy just cupped my hand. 

When Billy kissed me, it was hard and fast. When Dean kissed me it was soft and full of passion. Every step I took my mind kept comparing Billy to Dean. I couldn’t figure out why Dean was in the forefront of my thoughts.

And then I saw him. Leaning against the Impala, looking as effortlessly cool as ever. Dean. My heart pounded in my chest as our eyes met. A flash of something crossed his face - regret? Jealousy? I couldn't be sure.

As we continued walking, I glanced back. He was still watching, his gaze fixed on me. A wave of emotions washed over me. I stumbled as I looked back. I saw him gasp and jump off the car. Billy grabbed my arm trying to steady me. “You okay?” I nodded. I couldn’t pull my eyes away from Dean. Billy followed my gaze. Clearing his throat I turned and met his eyes. “Who’s that?” He asked, his voice laced with hurt and something else, anger maybe. I looked at Dean then back at Billy, “he’s my ex.” 

Billy wasn’t happy. I could feel the tension between us. As we walked into the quiet cafe he shot me a look that sent a chill through me. The cashier offered a soft smile. “How can I help you two today?” She said with a sweet voice. Billy looked at her and said “We will both have a coffee with 2 creams and 1 sugar.” She nodded as she started to put in the order. I spoke up, “Um, excuse me. I’ll have a vanilla latte please.” Billy shot me a look and grabbed my hand, “No, you’ll have what I ordered you. You’re my girlfriend and you’ll have what I order.” 

The cashier stood shocked. My mouth was on the floor. He’d never acted like this before. I touched his bicep softly, “Billy, I am your girlfriend, but I can order what I want.” Billy huffed and mumbled something. The cashier told Billy the total and she went about making the order. 

When we had our order Billy directed me to a booth at the back of the restaurant. I sat across from him and looked at him, shocked by his behavior. “You want to tell me what the hell that was about, Billy? Since when do you order for me and grab me?” Billy just stared at me, anger flashing in his eyes. It honestly scared me. 

“I didn’t like how you kept staring at pretty boy out there. It’s like you’re in love with him or something.” I bit my lip, not knowing what to say to him. I was in love with him. I never stopped loving him, but how could I tell him that? 

I swallowed hard. Touching Billy’s hand I started to speak, “Billy, I was in love with him when I was with him. He broke my heart and I’m with you now. That’s all that matters.” 

Billy pulled his hand away from me. “So you can love him but not me? You know what, screw this. Why don’t you go back to him and be his little whore again.” I gasped, “Billy! What the hell. Please calm down. I don’t want to be with him, I’m with you.”

Before I could say anything else, Billy stood up and told me to have a nice life and left. I sat at the table in shock. What the hell just happened? How did one little thing set him off like that? 

I sat at the table thinking about the past few years, how my love for Dean slipped away, and how Billy reacted to me seeing Dean. I was lost in thought and didn’t hear the bell above the door. 

The sound of a deep husky voice pulled me from my thoughts, “Hello, sweetheart.” My eyes flicked up and they met the piercing green eyes of my favorite hunter. My breath caught in my throat, “D…Dean, what are you doing here?” “Sammy and I were in town on a hunt, I heard you moved here. I’m so glad I ran into you. Can I sit?” 

“Sure.” I said without hesitation. Dean sat across from me. His hands instinctively grabbed mine. My head is screaming at me to pull away, but the rest of my body is holding on for dear life. 

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I was foolish and a complete jackass for leaving and for leaving you the way I did. I was scared. I had finally found the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, have children with, and I got scared. Scared you would be taken away from me. Scared because I don’t deserve the love you had for me. I’ve never deserved love or to be loved. I’m broken, Y/N. 

As I sat across from him, hearing him say how he didn’t deserve love my heart broke for him. “Dean, you deserve so much.You, Dean Winchester, deserve all the love in the world. You were four years old when you saved your brother from the fire, you raised him. Dean, you had to be mom and dad to Sam. Dean Winchester, the man who willingly went to hell to save his baby brother, the man who was willing to die for so many people. Dean Winchester, the man who took on the Mark of Cain to help save the world. You deserve all the love this world has to offer. You deserve so much more than I can give you. I NEVER stopped loving you, Dean, and I know I never will.”

Dean stood and walked over to me. He reached out his hand and took my hand in his, pulling me up and flush to his body. He tucked a piece of hair behind my ear, and his hand cupped my face, “You are even more beautiful now than you were two years ago. I was a fool to let you go, and I intend to spend the rest of my life making that up to you. That is if you’ll have me again.” 

I leaned into his hand that cupped my face. My heart hammered in my chest. His touch ignited that fire, that love I had buried deep inside me. Without another word I leaned in and placed a soft kiss on his lips. It was soft and Dean hesitated for a moment. Then something changed. His hands went into my hair and pulled me in. The kiss became more passionate and full of need. 

The hurt from the past two years was fading with each kiss. When we finally parted, I looked at Dean and smiled. His eyes are full of love and desire. “Dean, take me home.” I said as I leaned into his embrace.

Dean took my hand and led me out of the coffee shop and to the Impala. He opened the car door and I climbed in. When he got in the driver’s seat, he looked over, smiled and took my hand. “Let’s go home, sweetheart.” He stepped on the gas and we headed back home. Home, where we both belonged, together and in each other’s arms. 

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[petriwriting]

Talk Talk - Theodore Nott X Reader

We've been talking for months But never in the same room And now I wanna approach ya But we've been keeping this a secret And you're surrounded by friends And I'm just wondering what they know

The dorm was full of the scent of rain, and the rain outside patted on the windows in a rhythmic pattern. The cool air was crisp to the skin, even with the warmth of the castle walls providing some protection. There lay a pair of lovers in the second bed, with the canopy curtains closed around them although they were alone.

It was Y/N's room, little pieces of their personality spread about their bed and dresser. It felt like home for Theodore. Y/N's roommates had all left for some party they raved on about the weeks before. Y/N could still remember their roommate practically begging them to go with them. There was a soft giggling. Y/N and Theo laid face to face on their sides in the twin bed, a blanket pulled loosely over Y/N as per Theo's request. "It's cold," he had said. Y/N did not protest. Both were thankful to have company. "This is so much better than going to some random party." Y/N said. "Absolutely." Theodore agreed. "You know," he began, leaning up on his elbows and looking down at Y/N, and the way the soft glow from the storm outside illuminated their features just right. "I really like our friendship." he states. "especially when we makeout," he chuckles. "Oh yeah?" Y/N coos. "Yes that part is pretty great." he says in a cocky manner.  "I don't know what you're talking about, Nott." Y/N teased. Theo smirked, and leaned forward to kiss them. "So that's the only part of this that you like?" Y/N joked, finally pulling away slightly. "well not the only part." Theo said. "Because I like that part too." Y/N said. "Don't go all soft on me," He said softly, now getting sleepy. "I'm not," Y/N said sternly. "Don't catch feelings or anything," Y/N chuckled, they choked out the words in sarcasm, in a joking manner although they were hypocritical. "Too late." Theo said, just as sarcastic. He dramatically flopped onto his back and closed his eyes, pretending to sleep. A few minutes passed by, and the pair could have easily fallen asleep. It was getting pretty late now. Y/N's roommates would probably be out much later, not that they would mind at all if they came back to a visitor.  After some time, Y/N had fallen fast asleep beside Theo, who watched as their chest was gently rising and falling with each breath. Theo gently cupped their face with his hand and sighed softly. "I think, ....I love you." he whispered, though Y/N was fast asleep.  Initially, the two of them had bumped into each other during class one evening, they each knew each other beforehand somewhat but never really interacted much. And for the remainder of that class they cracked jokes and chatted about nothing. Theo eventually offered to be a tutor, which, although Y/N was smart enough to not need it, they agreed anyway. Since that initial study date, things had been steady. They had an unspoken situation, not friends, not lovers. Not something yet, but not nothing anymore. "It was casual," Theo would say to his friends before he fully realized how he felt. "It's just fun." Y/N would tell their own friends and colleagues to avoid the banter. 

Despite passing notes in class, and giggling in the halls late at night and evenings spent in dorm rooms all this had developed into more for each of them, but there was a key factor missing. Communication. 

A new connection was exciting, and part of its allure was that it was mostly kept secret. Not that friends and loved ones wouldn't support it, just to savor the moment. Being official meant public eyes, and with that rumors would spread, gossip, and chatter. and that was a headache both of them thought wasn't worth it right now. All they had were deep feelings for each other that had developed over the course of several months.

... ... ... ... ... ...

The great hall was much quieter when it was not occupied fully for meal times. Many students found this a great place to relax and complete homework or to socialize. The dull chatter was comforting For Y/N, they had been sitting with a notebook, an open textbook and a quill alone. The perfect opportunity to complete the almost overdue assignment in front of them. However their mind was elsewhere all of a sudden when the great hall's doors opened and a group of rowdy Slytherins came through the door. Draco Malfoy and his clique that consists of Blaize, Pansy, Enzo & Matteo. and Theodore. upon seeing him Y/N stiffened up. They had been flirting in private, holding hands, going on restricted section-library dates. But it hurt that it seemed like he just didn't feel the same. Y/N felt like a desperate fan girl watching him from across the hall but couldn't help it. To Theodore, they didn't seem to exist, and to Y/n Theodore was a cocky bad boy. 

Y/N smiled at Theo when he glanced towards them, but was not met with a smile or a wave or any acknowledgement. Y/N felt embarrassed to say the least. It was an unspoken fling, probably nothing more. Y/N desperately tried to complete the assignment besides the distraction, giving up after about 30 minutes of unproductive doodling and flipping through pages. 

The way Theodore behaved around his friends was rude, why couldn't he at least smile at them? wave? or look in their direction? all you heard was loud conversations, and bursts of laughter that echoed through the hall. Finally, after Matteo had cracked some kind of somewhat unfunny joke, everyone burst into laughter and Y/N had enough of the mindless chatter. They quickly gathered all their things and rushed out of the great hall. Y/N wanted to cry, to scream and disappear all at once. Tears welled up in their eyes and they wiped them away quickly, rushing back to their dorm.  "Y/N!" a voice called out.  It was Theodore, running after them. Y/N stopped, embarrassed to be so upset.  "Are you alright?" he asked gently. "What's wrong?" Y/N sighed, and looked at the boy standing by their side. "I wish you'd just talk to me," Y/N began. "Well I am talking to you." he said definitively. "No, I wish you'd talk to me about us."  Theodore took a slight step back, in confusion he asked, "What about us?" Y/N sighed, shrugging their shoulders and gesturing towards. "I like us.. how we are." he said quietly. "I don't." Y/N admitted. "Everything we do is a secret, I feel like I'm lying to my friends and yours clearly don't even know I exist, come on Theo I'm not dumb. you told me you think you love me and then you act like nothing happened." Y/N plead. So they did hear him. He was slightly embarrassed. Theodore sighed and ran his fingers through his dark curls. "I'm sorry." he said quietly, defeated. "It's not like that to me," he explained. "I don't want to rush into anything because I really like you. And my friends do know about us, I just asked them not to pester you and be obvious about it until I could talk to you and tell you how I really feel." he says. "I didn't mean for it to upset you." he continues. "I've been scared of this feeling, I love you, I know that now. But it wasn't fair for me to say it without at least trying to know if you felt the same."  Y/N stood there looking at Theo, who had just poured his heart out to them. They were utterly speechless. Everything they wanted him to say, he had said. And it wasn't forced. He really felt that way. He loved them. Y/N was partially frozen, unsure of how to proceed. "I don't want to be a secret." they said. "I just don't want you to feel pressured, I don't care about a label, I just want to be with you." Y/N said finally. "and I love you too." Theodore smiled, kissing Y/N right there in the hallway for almost everyone to see. His friends had been eavesdropping anyway and he earned a cheer from Matteo and heard pansy clapping excitedly. It was a slightly embarrassing moment, but it passed into a comfortable fuzzy feeling quickly. Y/N interlocked hands with Theo and they walked back over to his friends to rejoin the group. "Everyone, I'd like you to meet Y/N, my partner."

[ripdragonbeans]

Do You Believe In Fate // Part 4 // Aegon II x Reader

Summary: Tensions are high during dinner. The next day you all spend it outside but Cassandra decides to stir up trouble.

Warnings: None

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6

Entering the dining room, all was quiet. Just like in the living room, there was thick tension. Alicent sat at the head of the table with Criston to her right. Across from Criston sat Helaena. Next to Helaena was Aegon and Cassandra. That left the seats next to Criston open. 

Aemond played the part of the ever loving boyfriend perfectly. He pulled out your chair and kept your hand in his the whole time. You were sure to give him a sweet smile before sitting down. Aemond let go of your hand to seat himself but quickly had yours back in his grasp. He looked at you with a big, love struck eye. You let yourself get lost in it, thinking about looking into Aegon’s. Aemond simply gave you a knowing look and smirked.

Aegon cleared his throat. “Now that we're all here I’d love to share with you all how I proposed to my beautiful Cassandra.”

Bile ran up your throat but you swallowed it down.

“A story I'm wanting to hear since you didn't include me in it,” Alicent said.

Cassandra interjected before Aegon had a chance to speak. “Oh, it was so wonderful!”

A small frown appeared on Aegon’s face but was quickly replaced with a shit eating grin. Everyone else may have missed it but you didn't. You spotted Aegon taking his hand away from Cassandra and flexed it on the table. You knew Aegon well enough to know that he's the one who liked to tell the stories. 

“He took me out to a beautiful park. We walked around admiring the trees and flowers and stuff.”

You coughed. “And stuff?”

“Hey, she may not be as good with words as you,” Aegon defended Cassandra, “but at least now she has a future husband.”

“Wow, what a great way to insult your fiance, Aegon.”

“I did not insult her!”

“You kind of did,” Aemond jumped in. “You said that she's not as eloquent as my girl and implied that her worth is just now important because she's engaged to you.” 

Cassandra and Aegon looked at Aemond with their mouths open wide.

“Anyway,” Cassandra laughed, attempting to draw everyone’s attention again. “The park was beautiful and our walk had the best views. It was actually one of the first places Aegon took me when we started dating.”

You bit back a laugh knowing full well that Aegon wouldn’t take a date to a freaking park.

Cassandra continued with her story. “There was a bridge that looked across a stunning lake. He stopped me in the middle of the bridge and bent down on one knee. The rest is history.” She flashed a toothy smile and held out her hand to show off the sparkly diamond ring that adorned her finger.

Looking at the ring, you turned to Cassandra. “It’s so…you.”

Batting her eyelashes, she gave you an innocent smile. There was fire in her eyes, though. One that challenged you to say something else, to insult her. “Thank you. So when are you two going to get engaged?”

Aegon addressed Aemond but held your eyes. “Yeah, when?”

“Oh, we haven’t thought about that yet,” you jumped in. “We’re taking our time and we want to enjoy each other and not think or focus too hard about what’s ahead. Neither of us have graduated yet and we want to complete university before making any big decisions.”

“Well, you know what they say, brother,” again, Aegon only addressed Aemond. “Ring by spring; gotta get that ring before your final spring semester.”

“Hey,” Aemond gently gripped your chin so you could face him. “We’re in no rush, okay? We’ll take our time and we won’t let my brother, of all people, force us into something we’re not ready for.”

You nodded your head and brought his hand from your chin to your lips to brush a kiss on his knuckles. Silence enveloped the table again. While you were looking only at Aemond, you felt Aegon’s hot gaze on the back of your head. 

Helaena broke the quietness. “Well, if anyone is interested, I’m now the proud parent of a lunar moth, comet moth, and a rosy maple moth!”

“Oh, tell me about them,” Alicent hopped on the train fast.

Helaena and Alicent talked about the moths, what their names are, what their personalities are like, and so on. If only they were real. Helaena was lying out of her ass and you couldn’t help but tuck your head into Aemond’s chest and laugh quietly.

Dinner ended up being a fairly quiet one. There was the occasional giggle from Cassandra, usually due to something Aegon whispered in her ear. Each giggle was like nails on a chalkboard. They grated against your brain and it made you want to throw up. Each time your jaw tense, though, Aemond was quick to place a hand on your leg or hand in show of silent support. Desserts were about to be passed around but you took that moment to call it a night.

“Alicent, it's been wonderful catching up with you, with everyone, really,” you nodded at Aegon and he returned it with a blank stare. “But I'm really tired and I think I'll turn in for the night. I assume I'm gonna be in Helaena's room?”

Alicent gave you a warm smile. “That's where I was initially going to put you for the night but since you and Aemond are dating you can sleep in his room if you'd like,” she turned to Aegon. “The same goes for you and Cassandra.”

You held back a cringe when she brought up Cassandra sleeping in Aegon’s room. Instead, you went to Alicent to give her a hug goodnight and left for Aemond's room.

Once you closed the door behind you, you knocked the back of your head against it.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” you muttered to yourself.

After a few moments of standing against the door and contemplating your life’s choices, you crossed over to the bed and plopped down face first. You let the quiet wash over you and calmed yourself before you could start thinking about everything that has happened within the last couple of hours.

“Can I come in?” Helaena was on the other side of the door. “I know you're in there and you're probably thinking about something silly. Let me in so we can talk, sweetie.”

Groaning, you got up and dragged your way to the door and opened it, revealing a worried Helaena. She enveloped you in a tight embrace as she stepped into the room.

As she released you from the hug she asked, “So, you're dating Aemond now, huh?”

You chuckled and shrugged, “Yeah, I guess I am.” Taking a deep breath, you looked at your friend with some insecurity. “I just didn't know what to do. I don't know if I want to make Aegon jealous or to do something to make him talk to me. I panicked, Hel, I really did, and now I don't know what I dragged Aemond into.”

“Speaking of the devil,” Helaena chimed as Aemond entered the room.

“You didn’t drag me into anything. I willingly went along with it, it’s okay,” he said. “Like I mentioned earlier, bringing Cassandra was a stupid move. I’m also pretty sure it’s fake. Aegon wouldn’t settle down that quickly, if at all.”

The more you thought about it, the more you agreed with Aemond. It didn’t make sense. While it was a few years ago, Aegon said that Cassandra was just fun, nothing serious. 

“What’s your plan with the fake dating?” asked Helaena.

You weren’t confident in your answer, “I guess to make Aegon jealous? Try to lure him out of the engagement?”

“And if it’s real? His engagement?”

“Then I guess it’s time I let him go.”

You woke up in Aemond’s bed feeling a little more steady than when you fell asleep. The events of yesterday settled in your mind and you had come up with a better game plan. Picking up your phone, you checked the time. It was early enough that no one else but Helaena would be awake; she’s always been an early riser. The soft snoring from the floor indicated that Aemond was still asleep. Very carefully, you got out of the bed and tiptoed around Aemond to leave the room.

As you exited the room you found that you were correct. There was someone in the kitchen, humming to themselves, as they prepared breakfast. You knew that humming anywhere. It was Helaena. A smile graced your lips as you made your way to the kitchen.

“Whatcha making this morning?” you greeted her.

Helaena looked over her shoulder to glance at you. “Just some eggs and bacon for everyone. Speaking of bacon, can you get started on them for me?”

“Of course!”

It was just like when you were younger, making breakfast with Helaena. The two of you would be the first ones awake and prepare it for everyone while you two had some girl talk. 

“Sleep well? I know you had a comfy bed to share,” she winked.

Rolling your eyes, you prepared the sausages for the frying pan. “Yes, I was snuggled all up with Aemond and we whispered sweet nothings to each other.”

Helaena snickered, earning her a smack on the arm. 

“He slept on the floor, you goof. I told him I’d take the floor but you know how he is. Always being the chivalrous one.”

“It sounded like Aegon had a silent night, I didn’t hear anything coming from his room.”

“Thank the gods. If there were noises coming from his room I’d be gone. I wouldn’t be able to stand that.”

“Gods, Aegon, you’re just so good in bed!” You heard Cassandra yell.

“And of course they’re both awake. Prepare yourself,” muttered Helaena.

“Shh! You don’t need to yell it for the whole house to hear!” You could hear Aegon smack his face with the palm of his hand. They weren’t exactly good at being quiet.

You glanced at Helaena, both of you concealing your desire to laugh as best as you could. It wasn’t until you noticed the smoke coming from your frying pan that you were brought back to your breakfast making.

“Oh, shit! The bacon!” You hastily got them off the pan and onto a plate.  “At least they’re not absolutely unedible?”

They were burnt to the point of almost being black and they crumbled at the slightest touch.

Helaena sighed. “Aegon will eat them.”

“I HEARD MY NAME!” He called from the hallway. 

Cassandra and Aegon walked into the kitchen hand in hand.

“What is that delicious smell?” Cassandra asked.

“That would be burnt bacon,” you said matter-of-factly.

“My part of breakfast, however,” Helaena butt in, “is not burnt and is still edible. The bacon is only kind of edible.”

As Helaena passed you, you bumped her with your hip and stuck your tongue out.

“What a sophisticated woman you are,” she joked as she put the eggs on the dining room table.

Cassandra cocked her head to the side. “That’s all we have for breakfast?”

“You’re more than welcome to make whatever you like from what we have in the fridge,” Helaena offered. 

“Aegon, why don’t you make her breakfast? Since you’re engaged and you obviously love her so much that you’re engaged,” Helaena said sweetly.

Aegon puffed out his chest. “That’s right. I do love her so much. Now,” he clapped his hands. “Where to start…”

“I would check to see what’s in the refrigerator first,” you suggested.

“Yeah, a great place to start. Let’s see here.” Aegon opened it up and rifled through its contents. “Leftovers!” He produced a container of last night’s dinner. “Perfect for breakfast, a reminder of last night!”

Cassandra’s eyes lit up. “Aw, Aegy, you’re the best!”

You threw up a little in your mouth. “Since that’s settled, I’m going to wake up Aemond for breakfast,” you said as you exited.

Once you were out of their view, you booked it to Aemond’s room.

“Aemond! Aemond!” you stage whispered once you were in his room. “Something is up with Cassandra and Aegon!”

Aemond groaned as he sat himself up. When you left the room he took his bed back. Rubbing the sleep out of his one eye, he tried to pay attention to your ramblings.

“Cassandra was saying something about how good he was in bed, ugh, but then Aegon told her to be quiet. If it were anyone else but Aegon I wouldn’t think anything of it but he has never minded his achievements being known. Even by family, which is a little much. And then -”

“Whoa, slow down,” Aemond stopped you. “Aegon is bragging again? That isn’t news.”

You sat down next to Aemond and hit his arm. “You’re not listening to me. Aegon was telling her to be quiet. Like he didn’t want anyone to hear anything. When Helaena suggested that Aegon make something for Cassandra for breakfast, he just pulled out some leftovers.”

“No, that’s pretty accurate. I wouldn’t look too deep into that. He’s always been too lazy to cook anything. He just rifles through the refrigerator.”

“Well, either way, something is up. I just know it.”

“Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out, I promise. Or we’ll just make Aegon miserable. I’m fine with both.” Aemond offered you a small smile. “Let me get changed and I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

With a nod of your head, you left Aemond’s room. When you closed the door, however, you found yourself face to face with Aegon. You almost ran into him but stopped yourself. Taking a deep breath, you could smell his cologne, something so familiar yet so foreign. His violet eyes bore into yours.

“Doesn't sound so couple-y to me. Are you sure you and Aemond are actually in a relationship?” questioned Aegon.

“What, like you and Cassandra are the epitome of couples? You two don’t sound like a real couple either,” you shot back at him.

“Cassandra and I are engaged. As in we’re going to marry each other.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, don’t remind me.”

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous,” A smirk settled on Aegon’s lips.

“Of course I’m not jealous. I’m with Aemond, remember?”

“Ah yes, my brother. How could I forget that my once best friend is dating my brother?”

Heat boiled underneath your skin at him implication. “‘Once best friend?’ Don’t pin that on me, Aegon! You’re the one who left!”

“I didn't leave you!”

“You chose Cassandra over me. Once you started dating her you were never around anymore. No texts, nothing. So don't tell me you didn't leave me.” Tears burned in the corners of your eyes.

“But you avoided me! You were still around the house but would turn and walk away as soon as I showed up. You'd cross the street if we saw each other in town. Don't blame it all on me when you didn't put in any effort, either.” Aegon was stepping closer to you. 

“Did you ever think, that maybe, just maybe, I didn't want to be around you because you hurt me? That maybe seeing you caused me pain, that it hurt seeing you happy with someone else? That it was best for me to just avoid it all to ease that pain? I lived in ignorant bliss, ignoring you and Cassandra. I could forget that we were ever close, that there was something between us, that thing that you denied was ever there. So sorry, sorry for moving on. Sorry for healing.” You tried to push past Aegon but he didn't budge.

Aemond's bedroom door opened behind you. He quickly spotted you and Aegon against the wall.

“Hey, back off of my girl,” he growled at his brother.

“Relax, brother. I wasn’t doing anything to hurt her.”

Aemond scoffed. “Yeah, and I have two eyes. You're not going to hurt her, not anymore.”

As Aemond whisked you away, he immediately began asking questions about Aegon and what all was said. By the time you two had made it to the living room, you had answered most of, if not all, his questions with a quick yes or no. Once on the couch, the two of you continued your conversation in hushed voices. 

“I understand we're a fake couple,” Aemond started, “but our friendship is real and I refuse for you to be hurt by him again.” He held your hand tight in his.

Cassandra's voice cut to the living room. “I know, the ring is beautiful. He spent a fortune on it but, you know, he’ll do whatever he needs to do to keep my heart.”

You snorted at her proclamation. “Even she sounds fake, Aemond. You and I both know that Aegon wouldn't spend a shit ton of money on a ring.”

“Even if you're right, I don't want him to break your heart again.”

“He can't break my heart any more than he already has.”

“You say that but you know that's not true. Letting him in again gives him the opportunity to hurt you even more. I don't think I could stand by and watch that. Helaena wouldn't be able to, either.”

“I miss him so much, Aemond. Seeing him with Cassandra has always caused me pain but seeing him now makes me want to shake him and tell him to wake up. He's making stupid decisions but I've kind of missed that about him; his impulsivity and fuck it, let's go attitude.”

“We have today and tomorrow to get him to say something, if you're that sure. Other than that, I don't know when’s the next time you’ll see each other.”

“There's always the chance he'd come crawling to my dorm,” you joked.

“I wouldn't put it past him,” said Aemond. “I see the way he looks at you, when he thinks no one can see him. He doesn't look at Cassandra that way at all.”

You gave him a small smile. “Thanks, Aemond.”

As with most family gatherings, Alicent and Criston convinced everyone to step outside for the day and relax completely unplugged. No phones.

“This is nice,” Helaena said as she spread out on the picnic blanket. “The food was wonderful, too.” She rested her hands on her stomach.

You laid down next to Helaena and looked up at the clouds. Aemond joined you two soon, and together you looked up at the clouds. This was something you’d do together when you were children and it was nice to revisit it. Various clouds made up various animals. It brought you a sense of peace, a good reprieve from the last twenty four hours.

A few feet away sat Aegon and Cassandra. They were complaining about not having their phones.

“I don’t understand the point of ‘unplugging’ when we’re just going to go back to the house and plug right in again. It’s stupid,” Cassandra said as she rolled her eyes.

“Eh, it’s my mother’s way to get us all to bond or something,” replied Aegon.

Cassandra huffed. “There’s nothing to do out here.”

“If you got your heads out of your phones and looked up every now and then you would see that there’s not nothing!” Helaena called to them.

“Says the bug girl!” Cassandra called back.

You turned your head to face Healena. “I’ll fight them for you, even Aegon.”

Helaena shrugged. “No worries, I am a bug girl and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.” She glanced at Aegon and Cassandra. “They’re not even holding hands. Are they even trying”

“Aemond and I aren’t holding hands,” you pointed out.

“Yeah, but you two naturally kind of meld together.”

“I’m not sure I like that.”

“It just means you’re compatible.”

You scrunched your nose. “Look, as much as I love Aemond, I can’t see myself with him. At all.”

“That’s fair.”

“Wow, way to make me feel great,” drawled Aemond.

Helaena jumped at his voice. “I thought you were asleep!”

“I was resting perfectly fine until you made a comment about how me and my best friend here would be compatible as a couple. That’s too weird.”

“And yet you two are playing the part perfectly.”

“Hel, whose side are you on?” you asked exasperatedly.

“Just playing devil’s advocate,” she smirked.

As your two friends settled back into their relaxing state, you looked over and saw Aegon mumble something to Cassandra that caused her to roll her eyes. Cassandra had a sly smile dance across her face briefly before grabbing Aegon by the back of his neck and pulling him into a searing kiss. He melted into the kiss and brought Cassandra closer to him. His hands wandered over her hips and came close to her ass. You could see him smile in the kiss and it made you want to throw up. 

Looking at your friends you mumbled, “I think I’m going to go inside now.”

Aemond reached a hand out to stop you but you shrugged him off and made your way back inside. Wandering, you found yourself in Aemond’s room. At least there you could cry with the safety of no one finding you. At least you hoped no one would find you. You knew Aemond and Helaena weren’t too far behind you, both of them pissed at Aegon for making you upset again. A constant in your life, it seemed. It was Aegon that hurt you. Always Aegon. But it was also always Aegon who made you happy. Always Aegon who would make you laugh. It was only in the last few years that he has been hurting you.

Sitting on Aemond’s bed, you hugged yourself tight and shut your eyes. Seeing him kiss Cassandra instantly brought you to the dreaded party night; the night he abandoned you. Bringing your hand to your mouth, you let out a muffled sob. It was one thing to hear about them being engaged, another to think it to be fake, and then it being completely something else seeing them make out. The fact that Aegon pulled her closer is what made your heart crack. If Cassandra had only initiated the kiss you would have rolled your eyes. Aegon kissing back was a stab to the heart you were not expecting.

There was a soft knock at the door followed by Helaena’s soft voice. “Sweetie, are you okay?”

You didn’t respond. All you could do was let the tears flow.

“Let me go in, we’re supposed to be dating after all, Hel,” you heard Aemond say.

The door creaked open; followed by the sound of soft footsteps. You still refused to open your eyes. The mattress dipped next to you and a hand found its way to yours. Gently, it moved your hand from your mouth down to your lap. A soft kiss was pressed to your forehead and you were soon enveloped in a hug. Again the mattress dipped, but on the other side of you, and another set of arms brought you in for a group hug. You knew without a doubt it was Aemond and Helaena.

“I’m sorry,” you said against Aemond’s chest.

“Hey,” someone squeezed you. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. He’s stupid.”

“We all thought it was fake. Hell, he told me it was fake!” Your outburst pushed you away from the group hug. “He lied to me. He fucking lied.”

Helaena tried to reach for you. “You don’t know that.”

“How can you be taking his side? You just saw him eat Cassandra’s face!

“Aemond, say something!” Helaena tried to get him involved.

Aemond didn’t say anything.

Helaena groaned. “You two are so blinded. It was Cassandra who pulled him in for the kiss.”

“Yeah, but he kissed her back,” you pointed out.

“Because he knew you were watching and would get jealous.”

“Well, I’m jealous. Someone should find him and give him a gold star.”

“Gods, you two are so dense,” Helaena threw her hands up. “You need to stop fake dating Aemond and just talk to him!”

“I’ll stop fake dating Aemond when he stops supposedly being fake engaged to Cassandra,” you shot back. You pouted and crossed your arms over your chest.

“Fine. I’m calling an intervention, then.” Helaena crossed over to the door and left, not even bothering to close it.

“Oh, gods,” you groaned.

Aemond patted your back. “It shouldn’t be too bad. You know she wants the best for you and right now Aegon is being difficult and you’re being difficult so she’s trying to make you meet in the middle.”

Helaena popped back in the doorway. “Come on, girl. Just you. Aemond, you can stay here or something, it’s up to you, but you are not part of the intervention.”

“I’m okay with that.” He put up his hands in a mock surrender before giving you one last squeeze before you went with Helaena.

Helaena took your hand and led you to an extra room. Already there was Aegon, sitting on her bed. 

“Here. Neutral ground. The guest room. Both of you are going to talk things out because you’re acting ridiculous,” Helaena said. 

She plopped down on the floor and encouraged you and Aegon to do the same. Aegon mumbled something under his breath about not wanting to sit on the floor but he did so anyway. You, on the other hand, immediately sat down. There was a tension between you and Aegon. So much has been left unsaid that it’s made the relationship between you two muddled. You held his gaze when neither of you said anything.

“One of you has to speak first; I’m not gonna call on you like you’re in a classroom,” Helaena chided.

“Fine, I’ll go first,” you said. Taking a deep breath, you tried to calm yourself before you let out a storm of emotions. “Aegon, this is stupid. We shouldn’t need Hel here to be a mediator between us but apparently we do. We had this talk earlier but you hurt me. You hurt me bad. I know we were interrupted by Aemond but then you go around and make out with Cassandra to rub it in? Great, I feel great. Seeing you eat her face made me feel so good about myself and my relationship you. Totally didn’t make me rethink everything and bring back old feelings of abandonment.”

“Cassandra was the one who kissed me. I didn’t start the kiss -” Aegon tried to say.

“But you still kissed her back. I was there, Aegon.”

“We are fake!” he threw his hands in the air. “We aren’t together. The engagement? Fake. The relationship? Fake. Well, it was real and then it was fake but that doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it was real, Aegon. I’ve seen you make out with her before. Still feels like being stabbed, though,” you mumbled the last part to yourself.

“What was that, bestie?” He spat out the name.

“Oh, shut up. Don’t get mad at me when you’re the one who fucking left.”

“You’re the one who didn’t go after me!”

You scoffed. “Okay, so it’s all my fault because I didn’t push through the absolute heartbreak of losing my best friend, and crush, to someone else? My bad. So sorry.”

“If you really liked me you would’ve called me out!”

“And I tried! Before Cassandra even stepped into your life I called you out for treating me differently, to acting differently when you were around different people. But you never took any of it seriously. You just brushed me off, something you’re doing right now.”

Aegon closed his eyes. “Hel, I don’t think you need to be here for this.”

There was no response from her but you heard the opening and closing of the bedroom door.

Aegon brought his hands up to rub his face. “Okay, let’s go,” he said to himself. 

You rolled your eyes at his dramatics but didn’t say anything.

“I never meant to hurt you.”

“Yeah, you did that well,” you commented.

Aegon gave you a look before continuing. “I was stupid when I was younger, we both know that. I didn’t think straight and yeah, I mainly thought with my dick.”

“Your dick sure thought a lot about Cassandra.”

“Yes, it did.” He looked you in the eye. “But I know better now. Cassandra never has been the end all, be all. She’s been fun. That’s all she’s ever been.”

“That’s what you told me at the party but that’s not what I see right now. Right now, I see you engaged to someone you claim has never been serious to you.”

“She hasn’t!”

“Look at it from my perspective, Aegon. Or should I say Aegy since that’s what you’re so lovingly called.”

Aegon flinched at the nickname. 

“All that I know is that you replaced me.”

“I didn’t replace you, I promise. No one could,” Aegon begged. 

He reached out for your hands but you recoiled at his touch.

“How am I supposed to defend myself if you’re constantly denying me?”

“How can I? Because all your actions have proven to me that you don’t care. Maybe you did when we were younger but not anymore. That much is clear.”

Aegon’s voice broke. “I care about you. Please, I do, you have to believe that.”

“Sure.”

He took a deep breath. “Let me prove it to you then.”

Before you knew it, Aegon crashed his lips to yours. You were stunned at first but slowly melted into him. It was over as soon as it started.

“I never stopped thinking about you,” he whispered.

You closed your eyes in contentment for a quick second before pushing him away. 

“A kiss? That’s how you prove it to me?”

“Actions speak louder than words, don’t they?”

“But this? Aegon, you’re engaged!”

“I’m not! I’ve been trying to tell you that. It’s all fake, Cassandra is fake. I told her should could be my fake fiance if…”

“If what?”

Aegon didn’t speak.

“Aegon, what did you do?”

“She said she’d be my fake fiance if I’d fuck her.”

“Wouldn’t think you’d mind. You always wanted her,” you laughed mirthlessly.

“That’s the thing, I do mind. I thought I wouldn’t but the whole time I was with her I was thinking about you. You’re the only one I want.”

“I’m sure you’ve discovered this after sleeping with a shit ton of other girls, right?”

“So what? In the end it’s you. It’s always been you.”

You closed your eyes before giving him a chance. “One date. I’ll give you one date.”

A smile spread across Aegon’s face before it turned back into a frown. “Aren’t you dating Aemond?”

“No, he… Aemond got roped into my insecurities and being the good guy that he is, he went all in with it. We’re not dating.”

Aegon smiled. “Good, good - I mean, not good? Maybe good?”

“It’s fine, Aegon.” You smiled back. 

“I guess I should tell everyone I’m not engaged?”

“Yeah, that would probably be a good thing. Your mother is probably already planning.”

Aegon got up to leave but leaned down to give you a quick kiss on the cheek. Unlike the first kiss, this one had you blushing.

“I’ll be back,” he promised. 

You laughed. “No need, Aegon. I need to talk to Helaena and Aemond anyway.”

Aegon gave you one last wink then left the room.

[itmeansiris]

The Solar System Legacy Challenge: Good Morning Brindleton Bay Gen 1 pt.58

With all the birthdays past and the house renovation's mostly finished, the family finally got some much needed rest and relaxation that weekend. With Spirit and little cousins Van and Mitchell as long term houseguest the place felt warm and full of life and love.

Spirit (as always) was the first awake. She makes a fresh batch of orange juice before she sits in the living room turning on the weather, when Kason joins her. They chat for a while before Spirit gets up and heads to the kitchen.

Kason: I can take care of breakfast, rest.

Spirit: My dear an old women has few pleasures. Feeding my family is one of them.

She whips up a batch of Belgian waffles. The delectable smell of sweet batter, berries and sugar stirred some of the household occupants awake. Van and Mitchell were first, greeting Spirit before jumping in to help by taking out the trash. Kason joins them, grabbing a mop to cleaning up someone's paint mess.

Kason: Those smells amazing.

Spirit: It's an old family recipe. I used to make them on snow days when Mercury and Beckett were young. Would get them right out of bed, and at the table. Come to think of it, it worked pretty well on Jorden too.

Spirit added the final touches to breakfast before calling the guys to come and eat.

The smell of breakfast too much to deny, M and Aphrodite join the now empty table.

Aphrodite: Good morning mom, morning Nana.

M: Morning mom, Morning sweetie. Is that grannies waffle recipe?

Spirit: The one and only. Come have a seat.

M and Dite dive into their stacks of waffles. M closes her eyes for a moment, remembering mornings with her own grandmother in the kitchen.

M: It's good to have you around mom.

Her voice cracks with emotion.

Spirit: None of that. Finish your breakfast. I want to get the kids dressed and take them to the Farmers Market in town today.

Between a mouth full of waffle M agrees.

M: Sounds like a fun idea doesn't it. Maybe you guys can stop and pick up new backpacks for the kids they start school Monday. With all the parties it kind of fell to the back of my mind.

Spirit: Absolutely! I loved school shopping with you and Beckett.

Aphrodite isn't as quick to jump on the idea.

Aphrodite: But mom, this weekend is the "Giddy up" horse show. I was hoping you would take me.

M: Sweetie we would have needed tickets for that weeks ago. I'm sorry. How about this, next weekend you and I will take a ride to Chestnut Ridge and we'll go horseback riding just you and me. How's that sound?

Aphrodite: Promise?!

M: Promise.

That earned her a smile and a hug.

Aphrodite: Your the best, mom. Nana, thanks for breakfast.

After polishing off the last of her waffles, M wakes Zohreh and brings him down for breakfast. Kason is at her heels.

Kason: Good morning handsome guy. Good morning beautiful.

He pulls her against him in a kiss too hot for a room full of children. They'd been so busy lately it felt like they'd hardly had time to enjoy each other romantically.

M: Mmm, that's the kind of kiss that makes you want to stay in bed.

Kason: I'd like to have you in bed but I've got a meeting this afternoon that I can't miss.

M: On a Saturday?

Kason: I used PTO for both birthday parties, I figured it’s the least I can do for Greg. On the way home I’ll pick you up a scone from the Pumpkin Patch Cafe.

M: Throw in a cinnamon bun and you’re free.

Kason: You drive a hard bargain but I think I can make room for a cinnamon bun and a Pumpkin Spice Latte.

He kisses her again.

M: You spoil me.

Kason: I intend to collect on this sweet deal of yours when I get back.

He whispers close to her ear.

Kason: I intend to have you in our bed all night.

She flushes suddenly in a flirty mood. Her face warms and she looks around to see the room has gotten even more crowded with Ishtar and Venus finally joining everyone downstairs.

Venus: Can I have an extra waffle Nana?

Spirit: Then your brother would have less.

Ishtar: That’s okay Nana, she can have it.

Venus: YES!

Spirit: Sweet Ishtar. That’s a good boy.

Aphrodite: Geez Venus, do you have to be so loud?

Venus: YES! YES! I LOVE WAFFLES!

M smiles at the chaos. Kason grabs a berry from Venus plate

Venus: DAD! Hey, that was my blueberry!

Kason: You got your brother’s waffle you can spare a berry kiddo.

Aphrodite stands off to the side looking slightly bored with the rowdy exchange.

Aphrodite: I'm going to get ready for the market. Can you guys hurry up please.

The rowdy group hurries to finish breakfast and get dressed for the day.

After Kason leaves for his meeting and Spirit and the kids head to the Farmers Market Mercury goes into her office, turns on the computer and opens up the draft for her book.

PREV

NEXT

@kiarasims4mods Travel to Menu

@littlbowbub grannies cookbook

@srslysims Complete cooking overhaul (Juice maker)

[stargirlrchive]

simon’s work wife

one — two — three — four

the transition in your relationship—if you could call it that—with simon was easier than you anticipated. he practically herded you into his apartment.

helping you pack, doing all the heavy lifting, and grunting softly when you’d ask if some of your decor would clash with his. “wh’tver you want in our house will go, doll.”

our house. our.

shivers ran down your spine when you’d hear him refer to your things as our. you didn’t mind it—albeit it did confuse you a bit because just two weeks ago you were single, and now you were living with your lieutenant, and sleeping in his bed, and he’d cook for you—even knew how you liked your coffee in the morning.

the only weird thing was that he didn’t touch you.

well he did, like placing a heavy hand on your lower back to guide you, or pressing up against you to grab a cup from the shelves because you couldn’t reach it, or letting his thumb trail down your throat as you spoke to him.

but he didn’t touch you.

that plagued your thoughts all day, even as you slipped into bed with him. letting out a small huff as he turned to face you in the dim light of the room.

“what’s wrong?”

“nothing.”

you could tell his brows pinched together but you didn’t mention it. picking at your cuticles to stop yourself from looking at him.

you were still so confused; he clearly wanted you if his actions meant anything. and you couldn’t deny that anytime he’d refer to you as his ‘missus’ that warmth curled in your belly and left you a mess.

a needy, horny mess. it was his fault really.

he grunted, thick fingers wrapping around your soft thigh to pull you closer to him, “we ain’t supposed to go to sleep mad at each other.”

your nose scrunched up at him as you somehow found yourself under him, “and who sets these rules?”

he stared at you for a second before that same hand that was curled around your thigh now moved to curl around your throat gently, his eyes glued to your lips.

“me.”

you huff again, but make no move to move from under him—a move simon doesn’t miss. “what’s go ya’ so worked up, sweetheart?”

the gravel in his voice had your skin heating up, nipples pebbling as you met his gaze, “you.”

“me?”

“mhm.”

the amusement was clear in his eyes, staring down at you as he let his weight sink into you and you had to bite back the moan that threatened to leave your lips.

god, you felt pathetic. just the feeling of his cock on your belly, the scent of him, had you reeling.

“tell me what you need.”

one of his hands trailed lower, thumb barely ghosting over your nipple and a breathless whine left your mouth. “well—i-i need you to perform your duties-”

a rumbly laugh left his mouth as his nose dipped down to your throat, licking up your neck and nipping softly, “my duties?”

heat coiled in your belly, arousal pulling between your thighs as you tried to control your breathing. “and what duties have i been falling short on?”

your mind went hazy as he cupped your breast, lowering his hips to press his cock against your cunt, heavy and thick and just there. teasing you further by not moving.

“have i been neglecting my missus?”

that pulled a moan straight from your parted lips, hips bucking upwards to grind against his cock as he grunted lowly. “y-yes, been neglecting me.”

he nipped at your neck, thick fingers easily snapping away that lacy fabric that sat on your hips as he growled out softly, “m’sorry, baby. i’ll make it up to you.”

[sheddr]

I miss you so much, кохана.

Wann treffen wir uns?

When I see you, I'm going to hug you and don't let go for like an hour

[buckyalpine]

You know who'd talk you through it? Bucky. Bucky would talk you through it. I'm feral therefore this is feral. I always say I'm sorry after writing shit like this but this time I'm genuinely sorry, lost sight of the plot.

18+ af, minors dni

I'm gonna finish a wip, I swear, but just imagine for a moment, Bucky being intimate with the most soft shy little bunny ever and learning what she likes based on all the pretty moans and squeals he can pull out of her. He gauges what she's into based on how fucking soaked his balls get from the way she drips on him. Her pussy gets so tight around his dick and he knows whatever he's doing is working because she

She was too scared to tell him anything about what she liked so there was a lot of experimenting in the start. He took it soft and slow at first, basking in how warm her body felt against his, relishing in those quiet sighs she makes when he rolls his hips. For a while he thinks that's as vocal as she gets until a slightly harder thrust of his cock makes her squeak, her cunt clenching around him. His eyes widen at this new found discovery, thrusting harder and harder each time, that squeak turning into a slutty moan.

So she can get louder...

It's become a game for him, talking you through every single orgasm he pulls from you, growing more and more feral over how vocal you are when he does something new.

"Mmph, fuck yeah, that's it baby, moan f'me" He coos as he fucks his fingers in you faster while kneeling in front of you, his own knees keeping yours apart. He's truly playing with your body to his own delight having you naked, legs spread far apart with your pussy on display for him. He loves fingering you because he gets to look at your entire body whither beneath him. Little does he know how crazy it makes you because while he towers over you, eyes raking over your pleasure consumed form, you're admiring him right back. His thick pink cock is so full and hard standing achingly tall. His balls look deliciously heavy and you love the way he uses his knees to keep you spread because he ends up showing off even more of his sac and you are rightfully obsessed.

Your clit makes him drool. It's so perfectly sensitive and he's perfected licking, rubbing and sucking it till your gushing on his face and pulling his hair.

"Y'like that huh baby" He whispers to himself when he rubs faster and you start to claw at his arms, your back arching off the bed, moans growing louder. He watches your reaction like a predator watching it's prey waiting for the perfect moment to let you fall.

"Y-ess" You manage to cry out but Bucky thinks you can do better.

"Y'know what m'gonna do now bunny?" He knows you can't answer but based on the way your clit is throbbing against his fingers your attention is 100% on him. You loved his dirty talking and he's going to keep going until the sheets need to be changed. "M'gonna lick and suck on that pretty little clit of yours, you like that, don't you?"

You frantically nod and he lets out a breathy chuckle, his own cock getting wet at the thought of tasting you.

"Lookit what you do to me" He pulls his hand away making you look down so you can see him squeeze his cockhead, smearing his arousal onto your swollen bud, tears falling from your cheeks from how erotic and dirty he was. He rubs his tip all over not bothering to muffle his own whines and whimpers, "M'so fuckin' sensitive here baby" He'd never miss a chance to edge you both, your most sensitive parts rubbing against each other until he's done teasing. "See how wet you make me bunny? You're not the only one who gets soaked baby, shit you make me so wet"

You can see clear sticky webs clinging from his cockhead to your clit as he continues to tap and rut himself against you, "Don't worry baby, I'll clean up the mess I make"

He goes down between your legs, starting off with tentative licks like a kitten. That's before he lets those pouty lips of his seal around you, suckling with needy gurgles as if he were drinking milk. He groans at the taste of his own precum he marked you with, your taste combined with his makes him nearly cum.

"O-OOH-" The squirm of your legs are held still by his arms. He doesn't know how anyone other than you can look so adorably sweet and slutty at the same time with your eyes rolling back, jaw slack, sinful sounds filling the room, your white cream making a mess on the sheets. His dick is dripping and while he'd love for you to finish on his face, he knows that's not your favourite way to cum.

No.

Your loudest moans are when your filled with his cock while he plays with your clit with his lips by your ear.

Favourite position? You're not picky but he knows the ones you love the most. Your pussy gets so tight when he puts you in the sluttiest ones.

"Good girl, good fuckin' girl" He whispers tugging your earlobe between his teeth while maintaining a brutal pace, the sweat slicking his chest hot against your back. You're kneeling while he fucks you from behind, holding your body up, one hand wrapped around your throat while the other holds your hip. He wasn't sure how you'd feel about being choked until you squirted on him the first time he did it. "You love my fat cock don't you bunny, slut for big dick-" He brings his hand down to slap your clit making you sob, your wetness squirting onto the sheets, body limp in his hold, "Baby, you're soaking my balls, should make you suck them clean"

You moan louder.

Bucky smirks.

He's going to keep going.

"You like that don't you, you wanna lick my balls clean angel? Empty them first and then get down and suck 'em. Suck my cock, drink up all the cum that's still dripping after I cum in you"

That's all it takes. You're cumming without warning but Bucky's gonna make your orgasm last minutes if possible, his dirty talking getting filthier with each clench of your pussy.

"M'gonna be all sensitive for you angel, y' know how hard m'gonna cum for you? Gonna keep on cumming until I'm all empty"

"You're such a slut huh, you'd suck my cock even if it was soft-oh shhit baby-you like that too? You like me turning soft for you? You want daddy to get subby for you baby, hm?"

"I-I-Oh god James!!!" You whine and desperately try to fuck yourself back on him to prolong how good he's making you feel, all these feral thoughts too much-He reaches to pinch your clit, now rolling it between his fingers and you nearly pass out-

At this point anything he says doesn't matter. Maybe it happens. Maybe it doesn't. He just says anything and everything that clouds both your fantasies that make you sob and sob from overstimulation.

"I can be subby for you bunny, y'know that. Tell daddy what you want, you can have anything y'want"

"Love when you lick my balls, clean my cock. Shit, y'know I'd let you touch me anywhere baby"

The very thought of what that entails sends you into a second orgasm.

"s'that it? You wanna taste daddy, bunny? Touch me where no one else has? Hm? Just my bunny putting her cute little tongue on my-

"FUUCCCKKKKKKK" You fall forward and love being smothered by him, lying flat on your tummy while he mounts you from behind letting his full body collapse on you.

"So little under me, no where to run, you make me wanna breed you when you're like this baby, wanna give you all of my cum.

"Bucky-Buckyy!" Your muffled screams and taut body have him pounding you harder, your orgasm squeezing cum out of his body even though he want's to hold it. You make it impossible He's still gonna talk you through it all while falling himself.

"I know, I know baby, feels good-s'good-oh God you're milking my cock bunny-fuckk" His hips stutter to a grind, "Shit I can't st-top, God y/n please-want it-need you" He's babbling at this point, the both of you utterly gone, floating in bliss. He's going to clean and take good good care of you, making a mental note of what he did to get you scream this time. He smirks to himself with his new information, next time he'd be more than happy to see you lose yourself while you play with and lick his-

Alright, that's enough.

[fangirl-dot-com]

🪡The Obvious String

*part of the reverse trope series*

Paring: Lestappen x MercedesDriver!Reader Genre: SMAU/Fluff/Humor Summary: The invisible string was so visible that everyone missed it but them. What are they? Rivals? Friends? Emotional Support Buddies? But they can't be lovers . . . can they?

*I took a lot of inspo from people on twitter. I think this is the most work I've ever done for a chapter before. the tweets alone took almost two hours to do. I absolutely love lestappen so this is super self-indulgent. but that's why I'm a writer. I hope you all enjoy!*

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

Lando knew that there was something between the three of them. 

Anyone could see that. Instagram, twitter, TikTok, hell even the Formula 1 app was talking about it. The grid was getting very suspicious, but who could blame them. 

Max wasn’t putting out the fire by pulling his two childhood friends in as they posed for pictures. Charles couldn’t help but flash his God-given dimples at the Dutchman or the Briton girl. And Y/n, she was just as bad, blush on her cheeks every moment she was around them. 

So yeah, everyone was talking. But, no one truly knew what exactly was going on. 

And that’s exactly what Lando was going to find out. (With the help of his fellow 16 drivers.)

His first victim: the French bestie of the non-French man. 

“I have no clue what is going on between the three,” was the first thing that came out of Pierre’s mouth when Lando showed up to his driver’s room door. The poor McLaren driver hadn’t even gotten a word out. 

Lando rolled his eyes. “You have to know something. And you call yourself Charles’s best mate.” 

Pierre threw his hands up. “Non, apparently that is Y/n and Max. I’ve been kicked to the side.” 

The Alpine driver definitely wasn’t bitter or anything. He was actually thankful that you and Max had been able to keep an eye on Charles when he couldn’t. Knowing that the Monegasque had frequent delf-deprecating thoughts, he felt better that he had the two of you. 

Pierre turned to Lando. “Aren’t you supposed to Max’s best friend as well? How would I know something that you don’t.” 

Now that made Lando’s brows furrow. He was supposed to be Max’s best friend. And maybe that’s why he felt a bit peeved to not know what was supposedly going on between you, him, and Charles. His arms crossed in front of his chest. 

“I’m going to get to the bottom of this,” he muttered, turning away to the door. 

The Frenchman scoffed. “Good luck mate. We’ve been trying since 2019.” 

“We?” 

Lewis was not expecting the numerous knocks at his door during media day. The Briton held his breath, willing the unexpected visitors to give up and go away. Yet, a sigh left his lips once the knocking started up again. He pulled himself off of his couch and walked over. 

When the door swung in, two bodies brushed against his side. 

His eye brows raised. “Yes, welcome. Come right in. Oh, thank you Lewis for allowing us to disturb your peace.” 

Lando chewed his lip. “Yeah, thanks man.” 

Pierre took a look around the room. “Thank you Lewis.” 

The papaya clad driver took a seat exactly where Lewis’s had been sitting, which cause Lewis to glare at him. 

“And why are the two of you here?” 

Pierre huffed, looking at the pictures on Lewis’s wall. 

“Ask him.” A finger pointed at Lando, making the Briton look up from his phone. 

“Oh yeah. Do you know. . . ”

Once again, Lando couldn’t even finish his sentence because Lewis interrupted him. 

“No, I don’t know what’s going on between Y/n, Max, and Charles. Honestly Lando, no one knows and I don’t think they know either.” 

Lando leaned his head back and groaned. 

“But how could they not? They all make goo-goo eyes at each other. And it’s worse on the podium.” 

“At least you haven’t bit on the podium with two-thirds of the groups. It’s insufferable man. They can’t go without talking about each other for more than a few moments.”

A laugh left Pierre’s lips. “Oh yeah. It’s always ‘Y/n was so strong on corner 2’ or ‘Pierre, did you see how Max overtook Checo?’ And then ‘Oh Charles was told to stay behind again. He really needs to ignore them.’ It makes me want to puke every time.” 

Lando scratched his chin. “Now that I’m thinking about it, you’re right. It was like how Max and Charles completely ignored me in China. They kept looking at Y/n below!” 

The last few words had a slight whine to them. Charles had been quick enough to catch Checo on the last lap, and placed himself in P3 after Lando. 

The Alpine driver looked lost. “Lewis, you’ve been Y/n’s teammate for almost three years. How can you not know anything.” 

All he got was a glare back. 

“Like I said, Gasly, I don’t even think they know something is going on. It’s pathetic honestly.” 

Lando put his head in his hands. “She must be pining. Don’t you two do girls night or at least something like that?” 

“Lando, she spends all her free moments with Max and Charles. How can she be pining to me if she doesn’t leave their side.” 

It was quite for a moment before Lando snapped. 

“I’ve got it. If we want grid gossip, we got to go to the source.” 

“No Lando, I don’t know if Max, Charles, and Y/n are in a secret relationship. And I don’t think they think of each other like that.” 

The groan that Lando let out was so loud it made a couple of people look their way. George, the tall, lanky Briton was set to take Lewis’s seat for 2025 after two years in Williams. The driver pool was going crazy. 

Logan was returning to Formula 1 with HAAS after a brief sabbatical and would be a teammate pair with Oliver Bearman. Nico and Daniel of all people were going to Audi. Liam was set to take the second Red Bull seat. And Carlos, well, no one really knew, but rumors said that he was going to return with Audi when they caught up with the regulations in 2027. 

The McLaren driver was close to pulling his curls out. 

“But George.” 

Lando was now full on whining. George seemed exasperated and shrugged. 

“We’re not that close anyway. We aren’t even teammates yet. And you knew how she yelled at me that one time that my car scraped a hole in Max’s car.” 

The group of four winced at the memory. 

Max had just finished yelling at George, calling him every name under the sun. And then you had shown up to double it. The Williams, well, now Mercedes driver, was thankful that Charles had shown up to drag the two of you away. 

Lewis looked a bit pale. 

“Yeah. I don’t think she’s fully forgiven me for Silverstone 2021.” 

Lando turned to Lewis. “But they were all still fighting at that point. Remember the whole unfollowing they did in 2019?” 

Pierre snorted. “Of course we remember. That doesn’t mean that they didn’t still care about each other. You know that Charles and Y/n were the first ones to congratulate Max after he won the championship in Abu Dhabi. And then her and Max practically tackled Charles in Japan in 2022. I don’t even want to imagine when Y/n wins her championship.”  

Lando ran a hand down his face. 

“Well, if Pierre doesn’t know, Lewis and George don’t know. Then who would?” 

George cocked his head. 

“Have you asked Daniel? You know that he and Max are pretty close.” 

Lando’s eyes widened. “Why did I not think of that. George I could kiss you!” 

George’s face scrunched. “No thank you. I don’t want to be anywhere near your lips.” 

Lewis was already at the door, wanting to get a move on. “Let’s go. George you’re coming too. If we get to the bottom of this, you’re going to have to learn how to deal with all three.” 

A shudder ran down George’s spine. He did not want to imagine the horror of sharing a podium with all of them. He’s heard enough stories. 

When they got to Daniel’s motorhome, the Australian was peacefully talking with Oscar. Lando had run up to them and was currently hunched over, trying to catch his breath. 

“Do,” inhale, “you two,” exhale, “know if,” inhale and heave, “there’s something,” exhale, “going on,” inhale, “with. . .”

Daniel sighed. “Max, Charles, and Y/n?” 

Lando shot up, eyes full of hope. Lewis nodded next to him. 

“Yes! Do you?” 

The older Aussie wanted to smirk as he saw hope fill the group’s faces. He nodded a bit, and Lando looked like someone told him that his birthday and Christmas had come early. 

“No.” 

The McLaren driver fell to the ground. Pierre smacked Daniel on the shoulder. 

“Why would you do that!” 

Now Lewis was the one whining. 

“Because it was funny. Mate, they’ve been like this since Max joined in 2018. Even then, it was worse than whatever this is.” 

The Mercedes driver of the group let out another groan for what felt like the millionth time in that hour. 

“Max was insufferable in 2018. Taking his sim everywhere so that he could game and race with them online. And the multiple phone calls. I think Max partied harder for Charles’s F2 champion win and Y/n’s F3 championship than his first race win.” 

“Ok, but that’s kind of cute.” 

All eyes landed on Oscar. 

The younger Aussie’s eyes bulged. “What?” 

Daniel pointed a finger at him. “If Max hears you say cute in any way, shape, or form that is distinctly near his name, he will come after you.”  

An audible gulp was heard. 

Lando had begun to pace. “Well, if I don’t know, Pierre doesn’t know, Lewis doesn’t know, George doesn’t know, Oscar doesn’t know, and Daniel doesn’t know, then who would know?”

Everyone looked a little lost. 

“Aha!” 

The two papaya drivers jumped out of reflex. Lando’s head turned violently toward Lewis. 

“What!” 

He held his phone up with a contact showing. 

“We call Seb.” 

“Lewis, like I’ve told you. Charles hasn’t told me anything.” 

For the sake of everyone around in the paddock, they held in their groans. 

“But Seb, you were practically Charles’s grid-dad. You have to know something!” Daniel said, face nearly in Lewis’s phone, as if Sebastian could hear him better. 

A sigh was heard through the speaker. 

“Charles was nothing less than a terror in 2019. I think the calmest anyone has seen him was 2018 when his car didn’t go fast enough for him to catch anyone.” 

Lewis hummed. “That’s true.” 

“Because everyone there should know that 2019 was the year of them. Every headline was all about them. And don’t get me started on when they had that big fight. I had to hear everything about it every. single. weekend.” 

Daniel nodded. “It was the same with Max. If Fernando was here, he could say the same for Y/n since she was still racing with Alpine at the time.” 

Oscar had completely forgotten about Fernando being Y/n’s teammate for half a season before she made the jump to Williams to replace Kubica to race alongside Nicholas Latiffi. The young Aussie had looked up to the older female when he was making the decision to leave Alpine. She had personally congratulated him on the move and gave him a wink. Well, had tried to before Max and Charles dragged her away. 

Sebastian had gone quiet over the phone. 

“Has anyone actually asked them if they’re together or not? Instead of just asking everyone else about a matter that deeply involves the three of them?” 

Their silence had answered for them. 

Lando grabbed Lewis’s phone out of his hand. 

“Thank you Seb! We’ll get right on it!” 

“Hey!” 

It was too late and Lando had already hung up and was passing the phone back to his fellow Briton. 

“Guys, we can’t ask them.” 

“What!” Pierre yelled. 

“Think about it. If we just go and ask, they’re going to make excuses. We won’t get a right answer.” 

“Lando, you’re being unreal. Let’s just go ask them,” George said. 

“Ask them what?” 

The six of them jumped out of their skin at the new arrival of a familiar voice. Lando froze before slowly turning around, to come face to face with you, Charles, and Max, all looking cozy for media day. 

“Uh, nothing?” Lando squeaked out, eyes darting around so he wouldn’t have to look at the trio. 

Max snorted. “Doesn’t sound like nothing to me.” 

He took a sip of his Red Bull. 

Daniel looked panicked. “We were just wanting to ask, uh, Lewis and Nico if they had forgiven each other yet?” 

“Hey!” 

Charles raised his eyebrows. “Why do you seem so unsure? And Lewis is right there mate. Kind of rude to talk about his problems in front of him.” 

“Thank you Charles.” 

The Monegasque hummed as he turned to Max. His mouth dropped. 

“Max, I thought I told you to stop drinking that stuff. It’s bad for your heart.” 

The Dutchman shrugged and took another sip, just to spite the Ferrari driver. You rolled your eyes, knowing a playfight was just around the corner. 

Oscar’s eyes narrowed as he looked over the trio’s choice of outfits. 

“Y/n, are those Charles’s cloud pants? Charles is that Max’s cap? And Max is that Charles’s Monza hoodie.” 

The arguing that was beginning to build between the two male drivers suddenly stopped. Your eyes widened as you jerked your head toward them. 

Sure enough, Charles’s hat was not bright red and it had the number 1 on it, something that Charles lost to Max in 2023. You leaned back to look at the hoodie Max was wearing, and indeed it had the iconic podium scene on the back of it. The two males looked toward your pants. The bright white clouds seemed to stare back at them. 

“Uh, yes?” you asked. “But we share clothes all the time. It’s not a big deal.” 

Max and Charles nodded before Charles was hit with a thought. 

“Oh, chéri, I forgot to tell you that your dry cleaning was picked up a few hours ago and is back at the hotel,” he said as he looked at his phone, completely missing the six pairs of wide eyes that were now looking at him. 

Max smirked as he leaned over and kissed the top of Charles’s head. 

“Thank you schatje.” 

This time, a whine came from you. 

“I’m being left out,” you muttered, crossing your arms. However, the two were not having it and quickly brought you into their arms. 

Lando stared, blinked, and stared some more before he rubbed his eyes. He completely believed that the three would disappear when his hands lowered, but he caught Max in the middle of kissing your lips. 

“WHAT?” 

You turned back to the group. 

“Are you all fine?” 

Lewis threw his hands up. “I’m done. Call me when we need to go to the media.” 

The door opened quickly, allowing Lewis to slip out. 

Pierre looked a bit pale. “What? When? Where? Why?”

Charles shrugged. “We’re together. After my championship. The hotel. We love each other.” 

Daniel sighed. “So you’ve been together since 2022?” 

Max rolled his eyes. “No.” 

“But Charles just said his championship!” Oscar explained, hands outstretched. 

It was your turn to smile. “His F2 championship. We’ve been together since 2017.” 

A long sigh came from Lando. “I think I need to sit down.” 

Daniel’s door swung back open, revealing Lewis once again. He also seemed out of breath. His hands were on his knees for a bit until he straightened back up. 

“You’re telling me that you three have been together SINCE 2017!” 

You nodded. “Yes.” 

Pierre pouted. “But what about 2019?” 

The three of you winced in a synchronized matter. With a quick look, Max was the one to sigh. His hands dug into the front pocket of the cozy, black hoodie. 

“Long story short, we took a small break until Y/n won in Brazil. We all got our heads out of our asses and apologized.” 

Oscar rose an eyebrow. “Then why haven’t you followed each other back on Instagram.”

A snort from you made the two men chuckle. You simply shrugged your shoulders. 

“Too lazy? We don’t feel like breaking the internet.” 

Lando took a seat on Daniel’s couch. “Why haven’t you told anyone?” 

Charles ran a hand over his face. “Lando, we race in countries where people are killed for being homosexual. We can’t risk anything.” 

The air suddenly took a solemn turn as the McLaren driver nodded, truly taking in the situation. Charles chewed his lip in anxiety, while Max picked at his fingers. You were looking at the group. 

“You won’t tell anyone right?” 

Suddenly, everyone felt bad for wanting to find out. They had pushed the three to confess something that they might not have wanted people to know about at that time. What a group of friends they were. 

Lando hung his head. “We won’t. I’m sorry that we asked about it before you three were obviously ready to tell someone.” 

Another snort left Charles’s lips as his hand rested on his mouth. Max had a shit-eating grin on his face, you had one to match. 

Pierre looked at them with a skeptical expression. “Something to tell us?” 

Max’s shoulders raised. “People know. You aren’t the first ones to know.” 

Lewis sighed, shoulder sagging. George put a hand on the older Briton’s shoulder, trying to offer some comfort. Lando looked close to losing it. His hazel eyes narrowed at the trio. 

“Then . . . who knows?” 

Charles’s eyes looked up a bit as he started to count. 

“Uh, Christian, Fred, Toto, Kimi.” 

You pulled out his fingers and counted.  

“Jensen, Mark, uh, Nico.” 

Lewis looked like he wanted to pass out. 

Max smirked. 

“Oh, and Seb.” 

There was silence amongst the group. 

“Oh he is so dead.” 

“Lando you can’t kill Seb!” 

“Sorry Lewis, but this is his fault!” 

“Calm down Lando. You’ll lose your seat.” 

“Oscar, I just want to talk to Seb. Who has his phone number?” 

“I am not giving you his number Lando.” 

“I’m not asking you Lewis. Daniel, I know you have it.” 

You smiled in Max and Charles’s arms as Lando started to get physical, trying to grab Daniel’s phone. 

You leaned up, immediately being engulfed in Max’s aftershave. “Should we stop them?” 

Charles leaned a bit forward to look at his two lovers. A soft smile formed on his face, before a smirk replaced it. 

“Nah.” 

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[sweetnans]

You've been fighting. A lot.

Lately, it's been more bantering and spatting at each other than being the couple you used to be.

It started with Katsuki staying in the agency more. There were multiple attacks from villains, and the paperwork was endless.

Then you decided that it was good for you to pick up more shifts. You started part-time, and now you were picking double shifts that landed on his days off.

Days and weeks passed by where you hadn't seen each other in the frequency you did before.

Till death tear us apart

The inside part of your wedding ring was a constant reminder that death wasn't breaking up your marriage. It was, in fact, the time that wasn't being fair with the two of you.

One night, when you and him magically had the same schedule and reunited at home for dinner, everything blew off.

It started like a subtle conversation. How was your day? Where have you been? Tell me about your week... and then boom. The bomb exploded right under your nose.

You were crying because you missed him, he was angry because he missed you too and he felt like the problem was leaking in between his fingers and he couldn't do anything to stop it.

Everything was a big fat mess.

"I didn't want this for us," you said, grabbing your head with both of your hands. Tears dripping from your face to the mahogany table.

"Me neither!" He was pacing in front of the table from one side to another.

He felt like it was the end of it, and it was the first time in years that he felt scared. He didn't want to lose you ever.

"Then what do we do?" You whispered. Your throat clogged because of the pain. You loved the man in front of you, every piece of him.

"Fix this fucking thing I guess" he shrugged finally stopping his feet. He was hurt for seeing you there broken because of him.

"You don't have to say it like that," you muttered, lowering your head, busy staring at the stains of your tears in the wood.

The whispers, the cracking in your voice, your face stained with tears. No, he wouldn't be that kind of man. That type of husband.

He promised the day he decided to be yours forever, long before you sealed your relationship at the altar, that he would do everything to make you entirely happy.

Do you need more time? Fine, he would reduce his hours at the agency. Do you need him to be more romantic? You got it, he would buy you flowers and chocolates. God, he would do anything for you. You just have to name it.

You were worth fighting for.

He stomped quickly to your side, lowering his body and kneeling by your side. He grabbed your hand in between his hands, and with careful caresses, he made your eyes meet with his.

"Shit, sweatheart, you know who I am, and I know you know that I've never felt something like this for anyone. It's just you and me in our world, " he pronounced, no mumbling or half grunts. He was actually speaking at you with his entire heart. "I'm yours completely, and I would do anything for deserving being by your side. I know I have to change some things and I'll do it because I want you and only you"

The only sound that came out of your mouth were hiccups. You were a sobing mess. You needed to change things too, but looking at Katsuki so eager and willing to make your relationship and marriage work gave you the enough courage to actually make a change and to never forget what you have in front of you, an amazing man with a heart of gold.

[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

[sanarsi]

Favourite Lamb

post-Jackson!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: Joel finally has what he wanted – a quiet life, a farm, and you. After a hard day at work, you're eager to take care of your man. Warnings: +18, MDNI, porn with a little bit of plot, old man!Joel, soft/rough throat fucking, soft!dom!Joel, blowjob, post-Jackson!Joel, age gap (not specified) Wordcount: 2k An: We love taking care of our man so it's nothing more than giving him pleasure. Music I worked with: Sweet - Cigarette After Sex

Masterlist

A quiet noise woke you from your sleep. You looked around the dark room, noticing that the other side of the bed was still empty. You frowned, realizing that Joel still hadn't joined you even though it was late and he should’ve been home by now. 

Another noise caught your attention, so you slowly stood up and quietly opened the door. The dim light reached the hallway from the living room where a quiet curse had come from. You recognized the voice, so you headed towards. 

A loud sigh echoed off the walls as you peeked out from behind the wall. 

“Joel?”  Your soft voice caught the attention of the man sitting on the couch. 

He looked up in shock to see you up at this hour. “Shit,” he cursed, realizing it was probably his fault. “I didn’t mean to wake you up, baby, sorry.” 

You smiled softly as you walked deeper into the room. He didn’t take his eyes off you as he placed the glass of whiskey on the table and held out his hand so you can walked over and let him pull you onto his lap. 

“Where were you?” you asked, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and snuggling into his chest.

"Detector at the eastern border has stopped working," he explained, sighing quietly with tiredness and wrapping arm around your waist, hugging you tighter. “I know it's late but I just wanted to get this over with,” he added before you could point it out. He hated when he gave you reasons to worry and you hated it too. 

Now, that you lived far away from everything and everyone, you worried about him more than ever. For the first time in years, you allowed yourself to look away from each other as you tended to your little farm. Sometimes it scared you that you didn't see him for more than ten minutes. It was hard to get used to this kind of life after having eyes in the back of your head every day.

“And you fix it?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. 

At first, silence answered you, and then a quiet snort. “No.” 

You laughed quietly and rested your forehead against his temple, allowing yourself a moment of closeness you had been missing all day. 

“We’ll take care of it tomorrow,” you suggested, and Joel knew very well that there was no point in arguing with you about it. "And now I will take care of you," you added, nuzzling his cheek. You felt his muscles relax beneath you before he smiled in amusement. 

"Yeah? You want to take care of me?" He glanced at you and grabbed your chin between his fingers to pull you in for a soft kiss. You purred contentedly and without hesitation, you pressed yourself harder to him, deepening the kiss. Your tongues lazily played with each other as you slowly adjusted your position until you were straddling him. 

“Mhm,” you murmured against his lips. “How does that sound?” 

Joel looked at your delicate features and innocent smile and his heart immediately skipped a beat. 

“Perfect, baby,” he whispered as his hands began to smooth over your bare thighs. 

The rough touch of his warm hands sent shivers through your body, encouraging you to grind your hips against his. His quiet sigh echoed against your lips before you leaned in for a kiss again. The taste of whiskey on his tongue brought you a familiar feeling of safety, and the grip of his hands on your ass ignited your core. 

Cock in his pants was getting harder with every passing minute as you pressed your warmth against his. In moments like these, he was reminded of how much he hated being away from you for so long. 

You moaned as he dug his fingers deeper into your flesh. The lazy kisses grew deeper with each passing second making the material of your panties wet. 

“I missed you, baby,” he whispered against your lips before letting his hands disappear under your tank top. 

You sighed as you felt his large hands on your breasts. He began to tease your nipples with his thumbs, drawing a soft moan from you. He loved the sounds you made just for him. 

His sweet little girl…

"She missed me too?" he asked, starting to plant kisses on your neck. His thick stubble teased your delicate skin, making you shiver as another wave of arousal soaked your underwear. 

“Always,” you gasped under his touch. 

You let him take off your top, which landed on the other end of the couch. His attention immediately focused on your tits, he began massaging one and with a quiet growl began kissing, sucking, and nibbling on the other. 

You could feel his movements becoming more and more needy, and even though you wanted to give in, you had other plans for him. 

“I was supposed to take care of you,” you reminded him, running your nails over his scalp. 

Joel pulled away from your nipple with a smack, looking at you with a drunken gaze. He was breathing heavily and it was possible that if he wasn't as tired as he was at that moment, he would have started arguing with you about it. But today was your lucky day because he gave in without resistance, leaning comfortably against the back of the couch. 

"Right," he nodded. "Go ahead." 

You laughed under your breath and leaned down, placing a sweet kiss on his lips before you started moving lower and lower, to his neck and the exposed part of his chest. Your soft lips made him unable to resist the bliss that began to take over his senses. He closed his eyes, relaxing under your touch as you started to unbutton his shirt, kissing every exposed part of his chest. 

The lower you were, the more you had to retreat until you finally ended up kneeling between his legs. He couldn't deny himself this sight, so he began to watch as your fingers easily managed to fasten his jeans. Without a word, he lifted his hips so you could slide the material down his thighs. His cock was already standing stiff, showing its shape under his boxers. 

You unconsciously licked your lips as saliva began to flow into your mouth. It had been a while since you had the chance to look at him from this perspective. Joel would rather make love to you than see you kneeling in front of him. Maybe he was really getting old and would rather see you cry with his cock inside you than you choke on it. 

“Not too deep,” he reminded as you began to slide his underwear off. 

You looked at him with a sweet smile and rolled your eyes at his protectiveness. “I told you, I don’t mind.” 

“I know, baby,” he sighed and clenched his jaw tighter as you cupped his base. “But not too deep,” he repeated gently, with concern. 

You nodded quietly before your tongue met his tip. A familiar taste took over your senses as you slowly began to wet his head. Joel moaned softly as he felt your tongue gently caress him, up and down and around, until you sucked on him, letting a line of saliva run down his length, stopping at your fingers. He hissed at the sudden surge of pleasure, watching your lips wrap around his thickness. You didn't even give him a moment to breathe before swallowing him halfway. 

"Oh fuck," he gasped and twitched as his balls tightened painfully. 

You began to work on his cock, taking one half into your mouth with wet sounds and pumping the other with your hand. A shuddering breath left his lungs as he realized why he didn't like it when you gave him a blowjob. 

One answer – he always came too quickly. 

Then he heard the first choking sound and his cock throbbed dangerously. "Easy, baby, easy," he tried to calm you down, slow you down. But despite his words, you did it again. 

You knew the effect you had on him, the way you choked on him, he was experiencing fucking nirvana. He didn't want to admit it, but you had already witnessed him come in mere minutes. And now you were going to do that again. 

He couldn't control his moans anymore as you swallowed him deeper and deeper over and over again. His hips were thrusting towards you as if he couldn't control his own body. His mind was saying something different than his balls, that were dripping with your saliva. He wanted more but at the same time he didn't.

You felt his cock harden, heralding the approaching fulfillment, so you only sped up your head movements. Loud gasps mixed with growls, and while he fought the pleasure, you sucked your cheeks in contentment, licking the sensitive flesh at the tip.

“Baby…” he gasped in warning. 

You moaned with your mouth full and his cock twitched deep in your throat. The next sound of you choking was like a red rag to a bull for him, he couldn’t help himself as he placed his hand on the back of your head. You didn’t protest as he began to hold you in place, your nose pressed against his mound, and began to thrust his hips upward. You relaxed, letting him go as deep as he could and the sounds leaving his throat were enough payment for the tears in your eyes.

“Yes, yes,” he hissed, “you’re such a good girl.” His cock slowly took your breath away and you instinctively tried to pull back but he wouldn’t let you. “I know, baby, I know.” And he kept pushing until his breathing couldn't keep up with his movements and his cock began to throb.

You moaned tearfully, to which he responded with a blissful groan before hot cum shot straight down your throat. You swallowed everything that leak out of him as he came down from his peak, fucking your mouth slower and slower. Finally, he sighed in relief and let you pull away for air.

You almost choked on your own tears as you straightened up and began to wipe the drool from your chin. Joel looked at you with a drunken look, bliss written all over his face while you looked like a disaster, crying with red eyes and swollen lips. A feeling of regret appeared in his chest as he realized the state he had brought you to. 

"I'm sorry, baby," he said worriedly, leaning down to you. His warm hands found their way to your cheeks, wiping away the traces of tears. He hated that he was losing control with you, but as much as he tried to fight it, he just couldn't. He hated the sight of you in such a state, but he loved the feeling of your lips around his cock. "I didn't mean to—"

"I liked it," you interrupted him with a gentle smile. Joel blinked a few times, not being able to tell if he heard you correctly.

“You… like it?” he asked in disbelief. You barely had time to nod before he pulled you up onto his lap and hugged you to his chest. You licked your swollen lips and rubbed your eyes to get rid of the last traces of the glass effect. His strong arms wrapped you in warmth as you pressed yourself deeper into him. He watched your innocent smile with a tender gaze and allowed himself to press his cheek into your palm as you began to stroke his stubble. 

"Like I said, I don't mind." You leaned in to steal a gentle kiss. Joel, eyes closed, smiled at the tender gesture and nuzzled your nose. 

"I love you, you know that?" he whispered, running his fingers over your skin. 

"You have no other choice," you smiled wider, to which he snorted with laughter and pulled you in for a kiss.

Tags some babes @bbyanarchist @xdaddysprincessxx @yorksgirl @joelssluttyknee @amyispxnk @21stcenturywitchcraft

[ireneispunk]

Duty

Jacaerys Velaryon x female reader smut

After a rough start to your marriage, whispers from the palace cause you and your betrothed to start what you should have done months ago; produce an heir.

w.c: 1487

c.w: SMUT 18+, NO use of Y/N, not exactly enemies but y'all beefing, hate sex (if you squint, but more like dislike sex and its more just sass idfk), mention of pregnancy, breeding kink, afab reader, p in v sex, fingering, overstimulation, pls let me know if i've missed any

a.n: so i recently watched the queen charlotte bridgerton spin off and i absolutely loved it, this is very inspired by charlotte and george's earlier dynamic tee hee.

Four months and 3 days. That is how long it has been since your wedding, and how long you have loathed your husband. The two of you were not exactly close before your betrothal on account of the rapidness of it but the tensions that spread between parts of his family did not help. You both seem to fight every conversation you had thereafter, so it became easier to avoid each other. That was until around 3 months into your betrothal that questions of when you would need your dresses altering had you worried. You were supposed to making heirs but you both exploded whilst in the same room as each other.  You’d visited the prince in his separate room and communicated the issue, he was reading by the fire. You played with your fingers in your hands as he eyed the flaw, thinking intently. He placed his book face down on the table as he petted the bench beside him. You hesitated for a moment, before sitting next to him. “Once a week, we will fulfil our, uh, duty to try and produce an heir. Once you are with child we will stop.” You thought for a moment, before nodding. You couldn’t help but feel your heart sink. This was not what you had wished for in your marriage. Jacaerys was a painfully handsome man, dark curls that framed he chiselled features.

“It is the end of the week today, your grace.” You spoke, not fully considering the implications of the statement. But the quicker your belly was full the better.

He turned to you, hesitated for a moment before moving closer to you and pulled you onto his lap. You were surprised by the sudden closeness of someone, let alone your husband. He looked up from beneath you with a glimmer of what he had on your wedding night, without the naïve hope. His hands slid up from your hips to the bust of your dress, he looked into your eyes before giving the bodice of your dress a quick tug down allowing your breast to spill out. You gasped as his hands cupped over your breasts, massaging them before running a thumb over your nipple. You brought your bottom lip between your teeth as you felt a warmth spread over your body. You didn’t dare look him in the eye, keeping your eyes shut or trained on the ceiling. You felt as one hand left your breast and hike up your dress further up your hips. He sighed to himself slightly, at the sight of your exposed cunt. He could not believe his luck the first time he had saw you. You were quite possibly the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and unfortunately that did not change the more you both disliked each other. If anything, it grew. Seeing you from across the room at formal engagements, gluing to his side when you needed to seem like the happy couple. It made the frustrations between the two of you even more palpable over the past few months, given the lack of relief. You opened your eyes to see his dark eyes looking up at you. He brought his two first fingers up to your lips, “Open.” His soft tone contradicted the demand and look upon his face. His fingers slid into your mouth, gliding across your tongue as you closed your lips around them. Out of sheer lust you grinded your hips against him, needing to feel some release and gaining small jolt at the feeling of your cunt rubbing against his clothed cock. His free hand shot to your waist, fingers digging into the soft flesh. He removed his fingers from your mouth, admiring his spit covered fingers for a moment before they reached between your thighs and lightly grazed across your clit. You jolted, leaning forward to grip the bench behind him.

You could not stop the moan that escaped your mouth as his fingers slowly ran circles across your clit. He smirked as the noises that fell from your lips, knowing how much you couldn’t bare to be around him but fell apart in his arms was a satisfying feeling.  “I did not know you were so needy, dear wife.” The honorific felt like a pin prick. Insincere and laced with sarcasm.

Despite the tightening growing in your stomach, you could not let him have the final word as usual. “You hadn’t been paying close enough attention, your grace.” A flash of frustration flashed upon his face as his hand moved to grip your hair and fingers plunged inside of you. A gasp left you as his fingers thrusted deep inside of your cunt, you had gone from strolling towards an orgasm to being thrown at it. The tips of his fingers curled slightly, deliciously massaging that spot inside your pussy that drove you wild. You jaw fell open, eyes going wide at the loss of contact when he removed his fingers from you. You went to protest before seeing his cock in his hands, brows furrowed as he stroked the length.

You couldn’t hold off any longer before you took a hold of his wrists and pushed his hands away to his sides. You took his cock into your hand giving it a few pumps, watching an expression of lust spread across his face. You leaned over slightly, letting a ball of spit leave your lips and watch as it slid down his cock. He hissed, returning his hands to your hips pulling you closer to him. You took the hint, angling his cock towards your pussy, rubbing the tip over your clit for your own pleasure a few times, before lining him up and sliding down slowly, a large groan left his lips as be bottomed out inside of you. You had forgotten just how big his cock was, and just how good it had felt filling you up. You began to raise your hips up and down, moans leaving your lips as you did. You worked at a steady pace but after being accustomed to his hands began to push up and down with the movements of your hips moving you faster. Your fingernails dug into his shoulders as he pounded into you, no matter how much your stifled your moans, you gave him the satisfaction of them loudly leaving your lips. His hand reached up to yours, removing it from his shoulders and moving your fingers between your legs. You immediately got his instruction, fingers latching onto your clit. You worked tight circles into it as you got filled over and over with Jacaerys’ cock. A familiar tightness returned to your stomach as your head dropped back and numerous illicit words left your lips. Recognising your peak, he pulled you forward by your thighs, almost pressing your bodies against each other as he quickened his pace. Your orgasm cascaded over you, feeling your pussy tighten around Jacaerys’ cock and your body buzz from the overstimulation. You rode out your high atop of him, watching as his eyes screwed shut and his thrusts became sloppier.

You took the opportunity to return your knees to the bench either side of him and bob your hips up and down as fast as you could. His fingers reached the lip of the bench gripping it until his knuckles turned white. “Mmm, my grace,” You moaned out. His eyes shot open, his heart pounding at your remark. “Please fill me with your seed.” You pleaded and moaned, half doing it for a reaction, half because it felt too good. His jaw hung open in shock for a split second before he sputtered a moan from his lips, hips snapping into yours. You felt satisfied as a warmth filled your pussy. Your hips moved slightly, slowly thrusting his cock inside of you still. His hand shot to your hip, mumbling something, before you placed your hand flat across his chest. You bobbed a few more times on his cock, being sure to be as full as possible with his cum. You smirked to yourself seeing his head throne back, lip quivering, veins prominent in his hands gripping your waist, sweaty curls sticking to his neck. You slowly raised yourself off of his cock, standing to your feet and trying to mask your wobbliness as adjusting your dress.

You stole a glance his way, admiring his beauty before he spoke and ruined it. He panted through his mouth, arms outstretched over the sides of the bench. You smirked to yourself, admiring how he too had crumbled for you. The opening of his doorhandle caused him to call your name from behind you. You glanced at him and smiled. “Goodnight your grace, see you in seven eves’.” He opened his mouth to response, but you had already shut the door behind you. You hoped it would be sooner before he fucked you again.