#the south did not have the moral right | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gojonanami · 9 months ago

Text

❝ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 ! ❞

❝ EVERYONE WANTS PROF GETO — IN A WORLD OF BOYS, HE’S A GENTLEMAN ! ❞

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

✧ summary: you always had the wrong timing with professor geto -- first you were his student, then his T.A., and now it was the wrong place -- he’s moving to Kyoto. but you had a few weeks together before then -- so can you make them last?

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, a lot of smut (for real), so much fluff (we've earned it), depictions of student/teacher relationship (only ok in fiction not irl!!!), reader is a grad student, but age is vague, fingering (f! receiving), handjob (m! receiving), oral (f! + m! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, shower sex, amateur's take on moral philsophy and ethics, surprise appearance by someone :)

✧ wc: 12,010 (is anyone surprised?)

✧ other parts: part one | part two | v-day special

Time was the one thing that seemed to always escape you and Suguru — fuck, timing was never your strong suit to begin with—if your late arrival to Suguru’s first class was any indication.

You always ended up too early or too late to places, your entire day spent waiting for an appointment in the middle of the day, and your meeting days often mixed up in your head. And now—

Your relationship had an expiration date before it had even started.

The question you asked when the message from the department head came through hung in the air of his office like a death announcement. And it almost was — the second death of not even the start of what could have been a relationship.

Suguru’s eyes can’t meet yours, brow furrowed as if he had thought hard enough, he could solve the problem of distance with a simple application of an ethical theory — but unfortunately Socrates nor Plato had invented any solutions for instantaneous travel.

So the elephant remained.

“When did you—“

“No,” he’s swallowing, his eyes meeting yours again — desperate, but not the desperation you had both felt a moment ago — the desperation felt in the throes of passion — no, this desperation was the one felt when clinging to sand slipping between your fingers, “let’s not talk about this, not right now,”

“Suguru—“ and his lips find yours again, more insistent this time, his hands slipping around your waist, and each brush of his lips steals away another ounce of sense from you, “we have to talk about—“

“I know we do, I know,” he murmurs between kisses, his fingers cupping your cheek, thumb brushing back and forth against your cheekbone, “but I don’t want to think any more — I just want to be with you. I just want you,” and his voice breaks ever so slightly, and it cracks any reservations you have — just as this man always did, “but if you want to talk, we can talk right—“

And your lips cut off his sentence, only a moment’s pause before he’s melting into your touch again, your hands sliding against his bare chest, his heartbeat racing as fast as yours was — so much so that you wondered if the beating you heard was your own or his.

“Your place or mine?” and he blinks, as you kiss his jaw, a chuckle on your lips, “unless you’d like to fuck me in your office, I’ll have to admit it’s one of the things I’ve thought about,”

And god, all the blood in his body must have fled south in a half second with how much he aches for you, “Now who needs to watch their language?” His words are whispered against your neck, as he leans down to press a sweet kiss there, “what other things have you thought about?” His fingers find your chin, tilting your head until your gaze met his again — dark pools of lust stared back — and your thighs would have pressed together, if his knee wasn’t between them, teasingly rubbing against your far too damp panties.

“Patience, we have time for that,” and his eyes soften ever so slightly, an iota of relief rippling across his features.

“We do?” And it’s a question he needed to ask — had to ask, but that he wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear the answer to — because he knew it could break him.

“We do,” you pull him into a kiss, your lips sliding against his, “so the question remains, Professor,” you tease, and a shiver runs down his spine, “your place or mine?”

~~~

You end up at his place — the car ride there was relatively short, but far too long — wringing your hands in your lap, so you wouldn’t touch him. Because you know it would only take one touch — one touch for him to pull to the side of the road and pull you across the console and into his lap.

But you wanted to do this right — you needed to do this right. You had both waited long enough — you couldn’t hurry, not when you were both about to cross the finish line. But it didn’t mean you couldn’t toe it. And your fingers brush his outer thigh, and his eyes flicker over to you — a silent warning, and you knew you were playing with fire — the same fire that had burned you both time and time again, but this wasn’t his office. And you weren’t to let a goddamn phone stop you from having what you wanted.

And you wanted him — so bad — and from the way his gaze found yours, tongue flicking across his lips — he wanted you all the same. Your fingers just rested on his thigh, if only to ground yourself — as if touching him was the same as pinching yourself, to remind you that this wasn’t a dream. It was real — this was real.

It only became more real as he pulled into his apartment parking lot. He got out first, opening the door for you, as he offered you his hand, and helped you out, drawing close, too close for your brain to function — his lips brushing against your ear, “that’s for teasing me in the car,” you barely manage to gape at him, before he’s leading you inside, a palm resting on the small of your back, as you sneak a glance at him — cheeks still burning.

He was so beautiful — in every sense of that word. His dark hair fell in waves, strands slipping from his bun, assuredly from your tryst in his office; his lips were curled in a slight smile, as he pulled his keys from his pockets; and even his hands were gorgeous — they were so much bigger than yours, and his long fingers, lovely veins running across the back of his hands.

And you’re finally inside his apartment, as he holds the door open for you — the quiet click of the door makes your heart squeeze, his footsteps against the hardwood still when he’s behind you, his arms slowly curling around your waist. His lips ghost your neck, breath warming your skin, “should we talk first?”

You lean into his touch, your back pressed into his chest, his fingers lightly squeezing your hips, “we should,” and you should, you had to talk about what was going to happen, what this meant, what Kyoto means — but you want to just stay in this moment, you turn to look at him, and your noses brush, “but I don’t want talk right now,”

And his breath hitches, as your lips brush his, “But we will later?” his voice is barely above a whisper, as if even a word muttered above a whisper could break this moment.

“I promise we will,” you murmur, your lips curling, as you turn to face him fully, “but let’s not worry about later right now — there’s only one time that’s important, and that’s right now,”

“Paraphrasing Tolstoy?” He hums, his arms pull you flush to him, your fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt, already rumpled fabric wrinkling further under your touch, “And what do you plan to do to me right now, Princess?”

“Oh I have many ideas,” you lean up and brush your lips against the cut of his jaw, delighting in the shiver you draw from him, “so many ideas, Professor — should I write an outline up?”

“Fuck the outline,” and his lips find yours, his arms curled around you, pressing you flush against him, “I have all I need in my arms right now — I’m sure you’ll give a wonderful oral presentation, now won’t you?” He hums, as his lips part yours a moment, his thumb dragging down your puffy, kiss bitten lips — “I already know you’re an incredible orator,” this fucker knew exactly what to say to make your knees buckle.

“And I know how good you are with your hands,” you guide them to your hips, “able to tear papers and pantyhose apart,” you teased as a tinge of red appeared across his pretty cheekbones, “I’ll expect a new pair by tomorrow,”

“Consider it a promise,” and he’s kissing down your neck now, and you wonder if he can feel your pulse jumping under his touch, “but I can’t promise that I won’t do the same thing again,”

And he’s guiding you to his bedroom, walking backwards, as his teeth nibble at a soft spot of your neck, your fingers finding his jaw to guide him back for another kiss when you pause.

“What is it?” And you’re reaching into your pocket for something, and then reaching into his as well, as he flinches, fingers far too close to a very sensitive spot, and both of your hands emerge with your phones, turning them off before tossing them onto his couch. And he chuckles, “no risks?”

“There’s already far too much risk when it comes to us — call it preemptive measures,” and you’re leaning back into a kiss, his lips curled in a smile, “no landlines right?”

And he laughs, nodding, thumb and forefinger tilting your chin up, “Sure you aren’t a utilitarian at heart?”

“Well, you are certainly the best consequence, now aren’t you?” and he smiles the same smile that doomed you from the start—

“What a coincidence,” he murmurs, as he pulls you into his bedroom, helping you lie back on his bed, just as he imagined far too many times to be anywhere near ethical, — I was going to say the same about you.”

~~~

“Shouldn’t I be making you feel good first—“ Suguru sucks air through his teeth as your pretty lips press a kiss to his sensitive erection through his tenting boxers, a dark patch of his pre-cum visible on the fabric, “please, sweetheart—“

“This is for all the times your email and phone calls blueballed us—“ you smirk, teasing the head with your thumb through the fabric — “and I have to tease you — I mean Professor Geto begging me to suck to him off? Maybe I should make you work for it, write a paper on why you think I should let you cum in my mouth,” and he’s gritting his teeth, cock twitching in his boxers, your words far too effective, “tear it apart until you’re begging for it,” he’s swallowing thickly — and god, he’s so pretty like this, hair splayed out like a halo around his head, cheeks ruddy from his flush, and his chest rising and falling, teeth baring down on his lip, “but I’m much too kind for that,” you’re sliding down his boxers, his cock nearly slapping against his stomach, “and we’ve waited long enough,”

His cock was even gorgeous — truly what was he? Intelligent, kind, funny — and even his naked body was perfect — his cock was flushed red at the tip, black hair neatly trimmed dotted around it, a slight curve that you knew would feel far too good inside your cunt, and pretty veins you couldn’t wait to memorize—

You weren’t his favorite student for nothing after all.

You reach for his cock, smearing the thick beads of pre-cum along his length, kissing the tip, as your fingers slowly gripped the base. He grunts, a sigh leaving his lips, muscles tense as he tries not to rut into your hand and hang on to one iota of self control — and oh, you smirked, you’d do away with that soon enough.

“You think about me in this room, Suguru?” your fingers slowly start to pump him, his head falling back, “did you touch yourself to the thought of this?”

“Fuck, Princess—“ your lips curl.

“Is that a yes?” And you lean down, parting your lips for his length as your tongue traces a teasing trail down his vein, “or a no?” the tip of your tongue lapping at the pre-cum that leaked from his slit, “c’mon, Sugu, not so good to keep your student waiting — maybe I’ll drop the class,”

“I’ve thought about you — you know I have,” the words leave his lips, any hint of self control lost as his length presses against your cheek when you run a thick stripe with the flat of your tongue up his dick, “wanted to fuck you, taste you, make you scream my name—and,” his gaze softens ever so slightly as his only can in the midst of all this passion, “I wanted to wake up with you, make you breakfast, cuddle you—“

And he’s groaning, as you finally wrap your lips around his throbbing cock, tongue swirling around the tip, as his name left his lips in reverence, long fingers finding their way to weave in your hair. Your hand pumped what you couldn’t fit in your mouth. And you know he’s already close by the way his twitching now when his tip nearly brushes against your throat.

“Sweetheart, stop, I’ll—“ but you don’t oblige him, fingers brushing against his balls, before you’re bracing yourself against his thighs, as you suck and lick at his length, until he’s groaning, “where should I—“ and you suck at his tip in reply, and his head falls back, lips parted in a groan, as he cums hard, swallowing every drop as he paints your throat white with his release. He’s panting and twitching as he comes down from his high — deliciously flushed and messy, as his chest falls up and down as he pants, trying and failing to catch the breath you had stolen from him — sucked from his dick undoubtedly.

Eyes lidded as he watches you pull yourself from his cock, a string of spit and cum connecting your lips to his cock, before it drips down your chin, “I may get addicted, Sugu,” and you’re climbing back onto his lap, your lips grazing his still racing pulse, grunting as your clothed cunt rubs against his cock, “gonna have my professor’s cock every night at this rate — maybe I’ll suck you off under your desk next time,” your lips brush against his ear, as he gasps, cock twitching against your needy cunt, “how unethical your cock is compared to the rest of you,” and you’re undoing the buttons on his shirt, until it falls open for you, “wonder what other sounds I can draw from you tonight? Shall we learn together—“

And he flipped you onto your back on the bed, lips curled in a smile — but a smile laced with lust, eyes raking over your body as he began to strip your shirt off your body, “did you forget, Princess? I’m the professor,” and he leans down to kiss your erect tits through your bra, delighting at your gasp, before sucking lightly at your erect nipple through the fabric, “and I still have so much left to teach you,”

He is kissing agonizingly slow up your body, first the valley of your breasts, along your collarbone, and the curve of your neck — until his lips finally find yours again. His tongue traces the seam of your lips before being granted access, tasting your own with a moan you swallow all too eagerly. It’s truly not fair for a kiss to be this good — but again, everything about Suguru Geto was.

“What are you going to be teaching me? Kant? Rawls? Aquinas?” You ask between kisses as his fingers sliding behind you to undo your bra, slipping it from your body, his lips parting from yours, a string of spit connecting your lips to his.

He drags a thumb down your bitten red lips, “No, today's lesson is a bit unorthodox,” and now he’s kissing back down your body this time, tongue dragging over your stomach and belly button, before kissing right above the elastic of your panties. “I’m going to show what I owe you — what I’ve always wanted to owe you—“ a smile playing on his lips, as his legs force your thighs apart, eyes falling onto the wet patch on your underwear with a lust ridden gaze, “and how much I can make you moan my name from it,”

His fingers begin to ghost up your thighs, before he leans down to ghost all too chaste kisses up your inner thighs, pretty hands holding your flesh still even as it shakes under his attention.

“Seems like you enjoyed tasting me almost as much as I did,” he teases, dark eyes flickering up to meet yours, as his finger teased the drenched fabric, thumb rubbing against your clit, drawing a lovely gasp from your lips, “no smart remarks now? You always have so much to say,” and he’s pulling your panties down your thighs, seeing your pretty folds on display for him, glistening with your arousal — your need for him, “don’t tell me all it takes is my face between your thighs to get you to fall quiet,” and his lips curl as your lips pout, only making him chuckle, “don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll make sure the only thing you know how to say is my name after this,”

He presses a sweet kiss to your dripping folds, nose brushing against your sweet clit, the tip of his tongue tracing your outer lips teasingly, “thought about this so long, dreamed about this sweet cunt, Princess — tastes and smells better than I ever imagined,” your fingers grasp at the strands of his hair, tugging the hair tie from his messy bun, toes curling into the sheets, “wanna spend all night buried in this pussy,”

And his tongue licks a stripe up your cunt, ghosting over your entrance, before he’s circling your clit again. Moans leave your lips, again and again, lips closing over your clit to suck. Your muscles tense, back arching and your nails digging into his scalp, “barely even started, baby, don’t go cumming just yet,”

“Sugu, please, more,” you whine, looking down at him, eyelashes nearly fluttering.

His lips curl, “How can I say no to my favorite student?” And his fingers spread your sweet folds, your cunt fluttering around nothing, as he gathers your slick on his thick digit, working his way into your tight walls.

You’re gasping at the way his finger sinks knuckle deep into your tight cunt, your insides wet and warm, “your pussy is as talkative as you are,” the lewd squelch of your walls fills the silence, “maybe even more,” as he begins to fuck you in earnest, “think you need more, don’t you, baby?” And he’s adding another finger, the delicious stretch making your mouth fall open at the intrusion of his fingers.

You’re bucking against his touch, thighs shaking as you do, his fingers curling against that spot that has you moaning his name, his dick half hard already just from feeling your walls around his fingers.

You’re so fucking close — the drag of his fingers against your walls, your hips meeting his thrusts, “good girl, you take me so well, can’t wait to sink into you, Princess,” and his lips find your clit again, teeth grazing it teasingly, “s’good for me, baby, you close?” And you’re nodding, walls fluttering around his fingers, and he grunts, “cum for me,”

And you do, your head falling back onto the pillow, as you cum hard, his name on your lips, as your walls squeeze around his fingers. He finger fucks you through your orgasm, tongue lapping up your release, his lips leaving your clit with a pop.

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs, pulling his fingers around your sweet cunt. Your eyes flutter open, watching him lick his lips clean, before he meets your gaze, pressing his fingers into his mouth and sucking them clean, “sweetest thing I ever tasted, baby,”

He’s kissing your thighs, as you come down from your high, teeth grazing the plush flesh of your inner thigh, sucking and pinching, before soothing it with his tongue, “s’good for me,” and he’s slinking back up your body, his hard cock catching on your clit, making both of you groan.

“Please, Suguru, I need you,” your fingers find the back of his neck, threading through his hair, and he smirks.

“Look at my T.A., so needy for her professor,” and your fingers tug at his hair to pull the smirk off his lips, “I’d say you hold all the power in this relationship, Princess,”

“Do I, now?” Your fingers curl around his length, teasing the leaking head with your thumb making him hiss.

And his gaze meets you so earnestly, it nearly makes you melt, a gasp leaving his lips as he cups your cheek, “You could ruin my life, and I would thank you for it, if it was you,”

“Suguru—“

“If you were going to use me, I’d tell you to use me. If you needed me, I’d want you to call me,” he leans down to kiss your forehead, “and If you didn’t love me, I’d love you anyway,” and he doesn’t let you respond, lips brushing against yours, as he gently moves your hand away, and lines himself up, the head of his cock rubbing against your sensitive clit, “are you ready?”

And you’re nodding, a huffed chuckle escaping your lips, “Been ready for far too long — there’s no other electronics around here right?”

He laughs, “No, just you and me,” molten lava stared back at you, a heat seeping into your skin as he guided himself into your fluttering cunt, inch by inch, as his name leaves your lips in a desperate moan that nearly has him cumming right then and there, not to mention how eagerly your pussy swallows his cock whole, “fuck, such a good fucking girl f’me, baby,”

He split you open as he sunk into you, pretty walls stretching around him — delicious pleasure with an undercurrent of pain, soft praises whispered in your ears as he did, setting an agonizingly slow pace, “that’s it, baby, look at you, taking me s’well,” he’s pressing sweet kisses to your neck, as you bite your lip, “are you okay?” and he finally bottoms out, stilling as your walls clamp around him, a groan leaving his lips, “so tight, so much better than I could have imagined,”

“Sugu, please, move,” and you didn’t need to say anything more — he starts slow, languid thrusts that drive him deeper into your cunt, his fingers lift your legs up, hooking them around his waist, and you wrap them even tighter, the tip of his cock hitting even fucking deeper, “fuck, Sugu, so deep, so good—”

“You were made for me, just like this cock was made for you,” he grunts, the lewd squelch of your insides, the slapping of your skin against his, “been thinking about this for so long, pretty girl, never wanna leave this cunt,” his vulgar words only made your walls flutter around him, “trying to keep my dick, Princess? Don’t worry, it’s only for you anyway,” he teases, “my pretty girl’s cunt been denied twice — gotta make sure you learn your lesson this time, right?”

And god you were — you were learning his shape, his length, the slight curve he had, every vein that lined his cock, every inch — and you’d be sure to memorize it. Because he may be reaching you this time — a moan leaving your lips as his cock kissed a particularly deep part of your cunt — but the next lesson, you would be sure to pass with flying colors.

“S’close, Sugu, fuck, ngh—“ and he’s nodding, his fingers reach and rub your clit in circles, cock hitting that part of your cunt that has you seeing stars as pleasure rips up your body, as you cum. Your toes curl, fingers grasping at him to pull him impossibly close, His eyes flicker open, watching your cunt squeeze around his cock, a white ring of cum around his base, he fucked you through your orgasm.

His hips begin to stutter, a groan pulled from his lips, “S’good baby, I’m close—where—“

“Inside,” and his dick twitch, “cum for me, Suguru,” and he does, notching himself deep inside you, as he spills his seed inside, thick spurts painting you walls, as he moans your name. His thrusts slow, his lips brushing against yours. And you smile up at him, still dazed, his softening cock still inside you, “well that was very unethical,” a giggle escaped your lips, and his lips curled, as he leaned up to kiss you again.

“And how much more unethical would it be to do it again?” and you hum, as you flip him over onto his back.

“It’s a sunk cost fallacy at this point, think we can get away with it now,” and your lips find his in a hot kiss, your teeth grazing his bottom lip, tugging at it as he pulls away.

“A philosopher and an economist?” he chuckles, his lips grazing your jaw now, murmuring, “I learn more about you every day,”

“I could cite Kant or Butler if you’d prefer—” and he’s grinding his hips under you, a gasp parting your lips, as his cock slides against your soaked cunt, “Sugu—”

His lips curl in that damn smile, and all words fall away, as he kisses you, “I think I would rather listen to my name leave you lips instead, princess.”

~~~

RING. RING. RING.

Fuck. You give a soft groan — a dream again?

A small sigh parts your lips, as reality washes over you. Eyes fluttering open and shut, as sleep pulls at your eyelids still. Your hands reach over to both sides, but find no one as expected, you sigh, rolling over and burying your face in your pillow. It was all soft sheets and shining sunlight — but no Suguru. You kicked your feet up and down, pouting. You thought you were over having those dreams.

But then….why did it smell like him?

“What are you doing?” And you snap up, turning quickly, the comforter sliding down slightly and find Suguru standing in the doorway of his bedroom, leaning against his door frame. He looks sinfully good — long hair still thoroughly rumpled from the night before, pretty lips a little kiss bitten red, only a black t-shirt and boxers thrown on, and his obsidian gaze fixed on you.

“What—what are you doing?” And he raises an eyebrow.

“Isn’t that obvious? Watching you,” he chuckles, as your cheeks burn, “can you blame me? I’m enjoying the view,” he teases, as you glance down and see that half the blanket had slid down, exposing your bare chest.

You pull the blanket back on, wrapping it around yourself, “So one night in bed and the ethics fall out the window, huh?”

“Well, you did a good job defenestrating them, didn’t you?” He chuckles, sipping his coffee, “have to take responsibility for your actions — it is your duty,”

“Oh, it’s my duty now?” And he’s climbing back into bed beside you, “and what does this duty entail?” And he hums, as your fingers find the fabric of the front of his shirt and tug him close, before sliding up to wrap around his neck.

“Well, Kant said, it’s not the consequences that matter, but the motives behind the actions,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting over your jaw, “so what are your motives?”

“My motives are…” you consider your words, as you suppress the moan from his teeth grazing his pulse, and you pout, “you’re distracting me,” and he laughs, the lovely vibration against your skin making you shiver, before he draws back, thumb drawing circles on your palm now, “I want to wake up with you, I want to fall asleep beside you, I want to hear about your days and your night — even ones I spend with you, and I’d say my main motivation is to be with you,” your fingers clasps his thumb, before slowly intertwining your fingers with his, “is that a sufficient answer, Professor Geto?” And he’s silent a moment, a sweep of anxiety rushes across your body, fingers grasping at the sheet hidden under the comforter, as you add, “but Kant would also argue that the behavior is not one done of good will since, even if the consequence is good, it’s not done out of respect for the moral law—“

And his lips find yours, cutting off your ramble mid sentence, letting each sentence, word, and thought burn under his touch, each brush of his lips and his hands — as one palm cupped your cheek, while the other found purchase on your thigh — erased more of your worries, until he finally parts—

“It’s always good, if it’s you that I have as my consequence,” and he erodes the last of your concerns with his words, as his lips find yours again, “I was going to make you breakfast,” he mutters against your lips, meeting and parting again and again, before he’s easing the blanket from your fingers, gaze darkening as he sees you fully. And he’s easing you onto your back, against the plush pillows and sheets, as he kisses a hot trail down your body, before he finds himself between your legs again, tongue darting out to lick his lips, “but I think I may have my meal first.”

~~~

Suguru would have thought it was a dream, if he hadn’t woken first. To wake again in your arms, sunlight filtering through in his bedroom, your arms curled on his front, and your legs entangled, the warmth of your breath heating his skin, and your face tucked into the crook of his neck.

He had to pinch himself to make sure, eyes drifting up to the ceiling to the same fan he had stared at on many sleepless nights with only thoughts of you plaguing his mind, before his gaze fell back to you — only to find you beside him now.

There was no more perfect dream than this, but it wasn’t one, as the back of his fingers caressed your cheek gently, and you stirred only for a moment, a whisper on your tongue, “Sugu,” you murmured, lips parted as your nestled further into his chest, and his body burned with want.

Fuck. He tried to shift his hips away from you — this wasn’t helping his early morning problem — now was it? He really didn’t want a repeat of the hotel bathroom again, but this time, he could take his time — because you both had it. The end of the semester had mostly come and gone — he could wait on grading the papers — if only it meant a few minutes more in bed with you.

You woke up soon enough after he had left bed, hoping to start on the beginnings of breakfast, but he found himself feasting on another meal instead.

“Sugu, please, s’close,” what was it about you that tasted so heavenly? He had spent his life pouring over ethical dilemmas and trying to tackle problems of moral truths, but as he brought you over the edge to your second orgasm, he couldn’t help but wonder if he should have spent his time buried in your cunt instead of books.

He lapped up your release eagerly, teasing your swollen clit with the tip of his tongue before running a thick stripe up the length of your cunt, drawing another gasp from you — thighs shaking from pleasure.

“Sugu, please, enough,” and he eases off, chin and lips still sticky with your cum, as his tongue darted out to clean some of it off, wiping the rest off with his arm, “I want you, please,”

And fuck, he could cum just hearing those words from your kiss ruined lips, eyes blown out in lust, and your bare chest rising and falling. He drags his cock over your folds again, “need me again, Princess? Last night not enough for you?” he grunts when he watches your walls clench around nothing, as if to tempt his dick to sink into you.

He bit his lip, it was working.

Eventually, the two of you lie entangled again, a little stickier than before, your faces half an inch apart, and your fingers tracing his jaw.

“I wish we could stay here in this bed forever,” you murmur, and he turns his head to brush his lips against your fingertips, soft kisses pressed to each one, his nose then rubbing against your palm, “no responsibilities, no reality, just us,”

“Sounds like heaven,” he murmurs, words whispered against your skin, “of course I think any place with you is,” except when he can’t touch you, when he can’t kiss you, when he can’t smile at you without his heart aching — but he doesn’t say that, “we should talk shouldn’t we?”

“We should,” your eyes meet his, an ache that only made the ache in him grow, “I don’t want to stop you from going to Kyoto,”

“I would if it was for us, for you,” and your lips curl sadly, teeth bearing down on your bottom lip, as if to stop yourself from saying yes, that you’d let him — let him say no, let him keep his old job, let him stay in Tokyo.

“But that’s exactly why I can’t do that, for you — you said you wouldn’t jeopardize my future, and I can’t do that to you too,” you say softly, pressing your forehead to his, “I can’t let you put your career on hold for us, I know you’ve wanted this. You must’ve since you applied,”

“I only applied because I thought we would never—“ he cuts off, lump sitting on his throat, “I don’t want this to end before it’s barely started,”

“Me either,” you say softly, and his lips brush yours — he didn’t want it to end, not now. Not ever.

And then he realizes — it doesn’t have to.

“Then we start there,” he says, as he parts from your lips, words said in the promise of the same breaths you both had just exhaled, “I’m not moving until next semester. We have two months of summer before I’ll be in Kyoto full time, and before you have classes again,” his fingers find yours, intertwining with his, hand engulfing yours, “We’ll live as philosophical presentists,” and you scoff, a smile pulling on your lips.

“You don’t miss an opportunity to give a lesson, do you?” He gives a wry smile.

“Take the professor out of the classroom—“ and you snort, “what I mean is let’s live in this moment — we could discuss the future and past all day long — but neither exist right now,” and he rests your palm against his cheek, fingers squeezing your own, “but we do, in this moment right now, so why don’t we savor it?”

Your lips can’t help but curl into a smile, “How about instead of a drink you make me breakfast?”

~~~~

Was it possible to get deja vu from an experience you hadn’t had yet?

You step into Suguru’s shower, a distinct sense of deja vu settling over you as you wash yourself, the marks of the night before (and this morning) still littering your body, as if to remind you that it wasn’t a dream.

It better not be, as you pinched yourself again, pressing your hands to your still hot cheeks, sticking your head under the water. God, this shower smelt like him, the scent of his shampoo and soap lingering in the bath, even after he had left. He had showered here this morning, after you had laid in for a bit longer, emerged from the master bath with only a towel around his waist, stray water droplets running down his chest, drenched black strands clinging to his skin. He had stood here, and washed himself — lathering his body, hands drawn up and down his muscles, from his shoulders to his chest to his stomach — lower and lower—

You bit your lip, as you pressed your thighs together.

No, no, if you did that and Suguru caught you, he would never let you live it down. You finish your shower, the squeak of the faucet as you shut the water off, before toweling off. You glanced at your clothes hanging on the towel rack outside the shower, rumpled from the night before, reluctant to pull it back on. Instead, you step out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around your body,

You had a better idea.

~~~

“You have good timing,” Suguru says, smile on his lips, as he folds the omelet, yours he had decided, as with pancakes, his first omelet has not come out as well as this one had, “not late for once,” as he carefully plates the other omelet with some rice as well as miso soup he had made the night before, “I—“

And he turns, words fleeing his mind, assuredly taking his several years of education and teaching with it, as all the blood from his brain floods downward.

You were wearing his button up from last night, the wrinkled fabric draped over your body, falling past your thighs, the buttons mostly done, with a few top buttons unbuttoned far too teasingly — just one more and he could kiss your chest, two and he could—

Fuck.

“What?” You blink, chewing on your lip, “sorry I didn’t want to get back on my clothes from last night, so I stole your shirt, and uh,” your gaze shying away, “your boxers,”

Self control. He had perfect self control — hell, this last year had been an exercise in self control — control from brushing his fingers over your cheek, control from saying anything that pushed the line any further than the two of you had blurred it, control himself from taking you in his office (though he had not controlled himself as more as he was interrupted — twice).

But it was as if the dam had broken, the small cracks formed in the concrete now had compromised the integrity of the barrier and had burst the night before, and now — he rounded the counter, his arms reaching for you — there was no putting the water back in the dam after a flood.

Then again, he was more than happy to get swept away — if it was you.

“Sugu—ummph,” his name was muffled by the namesake’s own lips, swallowing the rest of his syllables along with your breath. His hands rake down your sides, his large hands slipping under your shirt, finding bare skin underneath.

“Nothing but my boxers and shirt?” He kisses your jumping pulse, lips lingering on your neck, as his hands squeeze your hips, “it’s like you knew what I wanted for breakfast, Princess,” fingers toying with the hem of the boxers you stole, “stealing isn’t very ethical,”

“Neither is a professor sleeping with a student,” you said between gasps.

He chuckles, “Well, a fair point, but let me remind you,” his fingers tease the elastic of his boxers you wore, the pads of fingers burning against your skin, as his erection pressed between your ass, drawing a gasp from your lips, “you wanted it,”

“What’s gotten into you?” you murmur, as his hand dips into your boxers, your head pressed against his body, lips parted, as a ribbon of heat spreads like a fire in dry heat.

And he knows exactly what’s gotten into him, his clothes on you, the scent of his soap and shampoo on you, and the way your body just melts under his touch—as your eyes drift to meet his own, looking up with lust scrawled across your features.

“You just look like a dream,” and his body met yours with a practiced ease, as if he had loved you all his life, and not for the first time last night, “one that I’ve had for far too long,” he buried. His face in the crook of your neck, lips pressing careful kisses as if you’d disappear under his touch, “is this real?”

And he doesn’t know why his breath catches at the question, a question he knows the answer to, because he knows you’re real, your warm skin under his touch, the pulse he felt racing under his lips — but he still worried he’d wake up in any second and you wouldn’t be here.

You softly chuckle, pinching his arm, “you feel that?” And he nods, and you turn to face him, leaning up to kiss his lip chastely, “did you feel that?” And he’s nodding, eyes fluttering, before you kiss his neck, teeth grazing his soft skin there, a gasp parting his lips, as you lean back, a smirk pulling on your lips, “and you definitely felt that,” you press your body into his, “this is real, I’m not going anywhere,” and he smiles, arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you flush against him, “should we have breakfast now?”

His lips curl, his fingers tilting your chin up, as he leans down to kiss you again, “in a minute.”

Because now you both had plenty of those.

~~~

“Where are we going?”

Suguru laughs, you were sure his laugh was in the top five noises that he made — right between him whispering your name in the mornings and the way he groaned when you teased him particularly badly.

His eyes still fixed on the road, flickered to you for a moment while he drove, “The more you ask, the less likely I am to tell you,” and you pout, hiding the smile that creeped on your lips as you crossed your arms.

After the day you two spent, the next day, Suguru had already made plans to take you on a date — only giving you a day or so to prepare. No instructions except to wear layers to keep a little warm.

“You weren’t likely to tell me anyway,” he chuckles, as you glance at him again — it still almost feels forbidden as you did — he had opted for contacts rather than glasses, his hair tied in a bun as usual, lips curled in your favorite smile — you didn’t have to steal glances anymore, these glances were yours to have.

It felt so different from that drive you had taken to the conference — it felt as if you were being suffocated by your feelings, sucking the air you breathed from your lungs as if to stop you from speaking because any word you spoke would only cross that line you couldn’t even toe without drowning. But now, that line wasn’t even blurred, it was gone, washed away by the decision the two of you made — and it couldn’t have been better.

Because now you could do this.

Your fingers rest on the gap of the console, before sliding over, and finding his thigh. His eyes slide over to you, “Need something sweetheart?”

You hum, drawing circles on his thigh, “Wondering if I could convince you to tell me where we’re going with some extra credit?”

“I don’t remember assigning any extra credit, plus you’re not being graded, but even if you were,” you smile, “you’d have at least a B+,”

You gasp, “Suguru!” He laughs, even harder when he spots the pout on your lips, “I think I deserve higher than that,”

He pulls up to a stoplight, fingers finding yours “well maybe you can change my mind tonight,”

“Will we ever get there? Or is it a ‘Waiting for Godot’ situation?” He snorts, as he intertwined his fingers with yours, lifting the back of your hand to his lips and holding it there.

“I promise I’ll never keep you waiting,” and your gaze softens, as he continues to hold your hand as he drives.

You smile, squeezing his hand, “Good, because I think we both have waited long enough.”

~~~

“Is the blindfold necessary?”

“Trust is essential to a relationship,” Suguru replied, his arm around your waist as the other hand held your own, a blindfold tied around your eyes, as he guided you somewhere — the blindfold had come a few minutes before you reached your destination, “don’t you trust me, princess?”

“Oh I don’t know, it depends on whether you’re planning on murdering me and disposing of my body in the ocean,” and he pauses — you can almost see the furrow of his brow, “you may have blindfolded me but I can still smell,” the scent of sea salt carried by the cool breeze tickled at your nose, even as you still walked on pavement approaching the beach, you could faintly hear the distant sounds of waves crashing against the shore.

“I suppose I should have gotten nose and ear plugs for my far too observant girlfriend,” and the title makes your heart squeeze, as his fingers squeeze your hand, before parting, only to brush against your hair as he undoes the blindfold, “well since it’s spoiled already,”

The blindfold falls away, sunlight peeking through a moment, as the world comes into view — a beautiful sandy beach with salty waves parting through the shore, so bright as the sun reflects off the sand, making your eyes squint, only for Suguru to place sunglasses carefully on your face, “You came prepared,” your lips curl, as he tucks the blindfold away, and lifts up a picnic basket, “in more than one way,”

“Well, I thought a picnic on the beach was a nice way to begin today,” and he pulls out a sunhat from his bag as well, placing on top of your head, “don’t worry, I have sunblock as well, in case we need it,”

“You thought of everything, didn’t you?” and you look up at him, the light glinting off his flint eyes like sparks, “and now what’s my job here?”

“Enjoy today, take in the view,” and your fingers brush his cheek, somehow warmer than before.

“Funny, I thought I already was.”

~~~~

“Are you cold?” Suguru murmurs, when he feels you lean on him, a slight shiver against his chest that runs up your spine, and before you can answer, he’s wrapping a blanket around the two of you.

“Mr. Philosopher always has all the answers don’t you?” Another breeze has you moving even closer, as his palm moves to lean towards you, arm brushing against your back.

“Not all the answers,” and he brushes a stray hair behind your ear, as his lips brush against it, “I still don’t know how you became so irresistible,”

“All the ethics, of course,” and he snorts, as he hums, his hand sliding against your cheek, as his lips press against the soft skin beside your ear, “Sugu—”

“Hm?” he leans back to listen so intently, noses brushing, and all the words you have slips off your tongue, every thought flies right out of your head, and all that’s left is the feeling of warmth that comes with being this close.

God, he was unfairly gorgeous — even now, his hair unkempt from the wind as dark locks trickled out of his bun, his skin painted with a pretty flush, and his warm body pressed against you made any thought of being cold evaporate.

“Sweetheart? You okay?” he murmurs, fingers drifting over your cheek, a tilt of his head, and pulls you back from your reverie like the waves pulling more sand back into the ocean.

“I’m okay,” you shake your head, as your fingers rest over his, leaning into his touch, “I just was thinking how perfect this moment was,”

“And what’s so perfect about it?”

“You and me, just,” you bite your lip, “I didn’t think it’d happen,”

“Me either,” he admits, “I don’t ever want to hold you back — I couldn’t stand to be the reason for your unhappiness,”

“I could never see you as that,” and his lips curl, “promise you’ll never leave me?”

“Princess—“

“Just promise,” you murmur, “even if it isn’t real—“

“Who says it isn’t?” His lips brush yours, a heat that swallows your cold, creeping anxieties and burns them to nothing, “I promise, I’ll never leave you,”

“You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep,”

“Well, call me a Kantian,” he kisses you again, whispering these words against your lips, “because I intend to keep this promise.”

~~~

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help?”

You chuckle, glancing over your shoulder at Suguru looking perfectly lost as he stood, watching you, hands crossed if only to stop him from taking over.

“For the millionth time, no,” you continue stirring the miso soup you were making, as you tenderized the chicken for the chicken katsu, “just keep me company,” you glance at him, biting your lip as your eyes raked over his outfit — a white shirt tucked under a navy pullover tucked into dark jogger pants, “and you’re already providing eye candy,” you teased.

“Oh, am I?” He raised an eyebrow, and you turned back to the task at hand, as you set the meat tenderizer down, to prepare the chicken to be breaded, and his arms curled around your waist, “and what if I want you to use a little more than your eyes?”

“Suguru, my dinner—“ but he continues, fingers brushing your hair aside, his warm breath turning your blood to molten molasses, “you’re making a habit of interrupting our meals like this.”

“The only thing I want to eat is in my arms,” he kisses your neck, feeling you shiver, “there’s another philosophy — ‘the customer’s always right?’”

You laugh, warmth blooming in his chest at the sound, “this isn’t a restaurant, unless I’m charging you at the end of this,”

“Maybe you should, I’d be more than happy to oblige,” and you hum as he trailed kisses down your neck to your shoulder — he never had a sweet tooth, but you were the only dessert he ever had craved.

“Knowing you, it would also come with a review written in red pen,” and it’s his turn to laugh now, as you lowered the stove temperature on the soup, before turning to face him.

He pulls you flush against him, “I’d hope you’d do better than a B+ this time,” and you glare at him, before your lips curl into a smirk, as you dare closer, your chest now pressed against his.

“This time I will because my annoying prick of a professor is very much able to be persuaded by other methods not available to me at the time,” your lips ghost over his ear, just as your voice used to haunt him in his dreams, “but now, I think he’ll be quite amenable to my work,”

“Don’t you want to earn your accolades?” and your smile is more wicked than the night itself, as you lean up to meet his own.

“Oh I will be earning them,” your lips are so close he could feel the words you spoke as you did — every part of your lips, every flick of your tongue — and then he’s met with your fingers dragging flour over his cheek, “after dinner.”

Suguru gaped at the flour smeared across his cheek, as you turned back around, the click of the burner as you turned it high again, “Was that necessary? You snorted, as you began to season the chicken, as he wiped the offending flour from his cheek.

“Well, was it necessary to give me a 99 on the final paper?”

~~~~

“Well, this is just unfair,” you sat in the middle of a cat cafe — arms crossed and biting back a small smile that threatened to bloom across your lips — the cutest one you had found in the heart of Tokyo that you had reluctantly dragged Suguru.

He wasn’t a fan of cats or dogs, for that matter.

But now, after paying the admission fee, and ordering your drinks, the two of you sat in an enclosure of cats you were far too eager to meet — and perhaps, they could sense it.

“Did you break Kantian principles and lie about hating cats or is the universe playing a prank?” you watch as yet another cat approaches your boyfriend, an entire litter already taking up residence on any available real estate on his body, while you had only a single cat in your lap the entire time, as if it was taking pity on you.

This was no better than when you were a T.A., swarms of students surrounding Suguru, while you were left with barely a soul. Apparently it applied to students and animals, and you felt a small twinge of jealousy — but you weren’t sure if you were more jealous of the cats or him.

“I don’t hate them, I just don’t particularly want one of my own,” he shrugs, as he scratches the newcomer behind the ear, “but maybe you’ve changed my mind,”

“I tend to have that influence,” and his lips curl.

“I have seem to have developed a soft spot for strays,” and you gape at him, as he snorts at your aghast expression, a cat swatting at his bobbing bangs as he shook with laughter, “but you’re my favorite one,”

“I better be,” you grumble, crossing your arms and pouting, before you watched him pet yet another cat that had made itself at home on your boyfriend’s lap. And you pull out your phone to sneak a few pictures.

“I wanted to ask you something actually,” he says as you glanced up from your phone, he bit his lip, a small hint of nerves apparent in his stiff shoulders and shy gaze, “I’m going to Kyoto next week to look for an apartment for when the semester starts,” and your heart sinks a little at the thought — the summer was half over already, and it was far too quick for your liking. The more you wanted time to linger, the more it seemed to escape you, “I wanted to ask if you’d like to come to see apartments with me,”

You blink, you ask softly, “You want me to come?”

He gets up, easing the cats gently out of his lap, as he makes his way to your side. He sits beside you, the cat in your lap, stretching its way between the two of you, as you rub his head.

“I know we said we would see how this would go before the start of the semester, but I know what I want — I think I did from the very start of this,” he says, as his ebony gaze finds yours, “I want to be with you — and I’d like you to come with me to pick out an apartment, because I want it to be somewhere you want to be too—“

And you cut him off with a kiss, arms thrown around his neck — he freezes a moment, before melting into your kiss, his fingers cupping your cheeks, “We’ll have to make sure it’s pet friendly,”

He chuckles, his forehead pressed against yours, “So we’re getting a cat?”

Your fingers find his own as another cat brushes against both of your legs, “That or a poodle.”

~~~

“What did you think of that place?” You ask as you both walk out of another viewing for an apartment, as he looks at the list he made on his phone, “it had good light, it’s close to the university, it’s pretty spacious,” But he’s sighing, as you tilt your head, “Suguru?”

“Sorry, it’s nothing,” he’s shaking his head, “i think we should look for another place,” the same thing he had said for the last three places — he had found something wrong with each of them, but this one seemed different.

“Why?” and he doesn’t answer, and you cling to his arm, a hand on his cheek to guide him to look at you, “Sugu?”

He bites his lip a little, as he rubs the back of his neck, “it’s just far from the station so when you come to visit, it might be a little difficult for you,” and your gaze softens, mouth opening to reply, “I didn’t want to tell you because I know you would tell me not to worry,” and you close your mouth, and he chuckles, “I was right huh?”

“Oh, a man is a smart ethics professor and he thinks he knows everything,” you kiss his lips, “you really don’t have to worry. We’ll make it work,”

“I know, but the round trip on the bullet train is four hours, I don’t want to make you wait longer or waste even a minute of your time together,” he murmurs, as you twirl a dark strand of his hair between your fingers.

“No moment spent getting to you or being with you is a waste,” you smile, fingers smoothing your boyfriend’s furrowed brow, “plus the train gives me time to catch up on my reading — and you’ll be coming to see me too,”

“I know, I just,” he sighs, leaning into your hand resting against his cheek, “I don’t want to ever be a burden,”

“Not to me, it’s not a burden when it’s you,” your fingers find his and bring his knuckles to your lips, “you’re worth every minute,”

“And you’re worth so much more than that,” and you smile against his skin.

“Always have to one up me, don’t you?” And his arm wraps it’s way around your waist, tugging you close.

His lips brush yours again, “Always, when it comes to caring for you.”

~~~

“You found such a perfect hotel room,” you sighed, collapsing onto the pristine (not so pristine now) bed, your feet very sore from all the walking you had done over the last three days, “I’m glad you finally found a place you liked,” and he sits at the edge of the bed, beside you, as he chuckles at the sight of you laid starfished on the bed, “the apartment’s beautiful, close to the university and a station, and it allows pets,”

His fingers find your foot, massaging the sore sole, bringing a low groan from your lips, eyes fluttering shut, “Good thing, otherwise, they’d never let me bring you in,” and your eyes snap open to playfully kick him and he laughs, as he stares at you, fingers ghosting over your ankle.

“What are you staring at?” You tease, and he can’t help the words that escape his lips.

“I love you,” and your breath catches, as your mind struggles to process the words that left his lips, and a chuckle leaves his lips, as he leans over on his elbow to hover over you, “I’ll say it again, as many times as you need to hear it,”

“You will?” your lips curl into a smile, “because I think I would like to hear it again,”

“I love you,” and his lips graze against yours, “I love you,” again, his lips linger a moment longer, “I love you,” again, “I love you—”

And you kiss him this time, your fingers cupping his cheek, sliding to the back of his neck, as your forehead press together, “I love you too,” and he grins down at you, his lips finding yours again and again, pressing you into the comforter, “I love you, Suguru,” you murmur, his fingers skimming your cheek.

“You know you don’t have to say it back—”

“I know,” you scoff, as you pinch his cheek lightly, “I said it because I meant it, I do love you, Suguru — I have for a long time,”

He smirks, “A long time?”

“Shut up,” you pout, and he’s laughing as he showers your face with soft kisses, “nooo, I changed my answer, I don’t know if I love y—” and he’s swallowing your words with another kiss — but this one is languid and deep, a heat that sinks in from his touch, as his body brushes against yours, until he finally parts to allow you both a breath, “not fair,”

“Sorry sweetheart, no changing your answer now,” he runs his fingers through your hair, and you’re pulling him into another soft kiss, before you bury your face in his chest, and he gives a soft sigh, as the two of you cuddle, a small chuckle on his lips.

“What is it?”

“Deja vu,” and you blink, he laughs again, “the last time we were in a hotel together, we weren’t together, but we had these feelings, and now—” his lips find the top of your head, fingers running through your dark locks, “things are so different — it almost feels like a lifetime ago,”

“It wasn’t that long ago, but I’m glad it feels that way,” your nose brushes against the hollow of his throat, “I want us to fill up our present with good memories, so that we don’t have any of those other ones linger,”

“I think we can manage that,” his lips glide against yours, his teeth grazing your bottom lip, “we should shower,”

“We?” you raise an eyebrow, a heat that sparks and settles over your skin that only stokes brighter and hotter, when his hand runs down your side and squeezes your hip, “Sugu—”

“Should we take a utilitarian approach? The benefits: it’s better for the environment to preserve water, we can stay close to each other as we clean our bodies, and reach the spots that are hard for us ourselves to reach. The costs would be,” his lips ghost your collarbone, “we would take longer thus using more water, we would get messier before we would get cleaner, and we might spend a lot more time in bed after,”

“How is that a cost?” you slip off the bed, tugging your shirt over your head and tossing it at him, before pulling down your shorts, as you open the bathroom door, leaning against the door frame, “Are you going to show me the benefits of being my boyfriend?”

~~~

“Suguru,” his name left your lips in broken syllables, as the head of his leaking cock teased your drenched entrance, your hands braced against the shower wall, the cold of the wet glass contrasting with the warmth of his body pressed against your back, “please,”

“Please what, princess?” his lips ghost over your shoulder, licking a water droplet from your neck, as he moves a few wet locks to kiss the skin behind your ear, “You’re going to have to be more specific — I can’t help you, if you don’t tell me what you need — isn’t that the first thing I taught you?”

“No, the first thing you taught me was to never be late,” you gasp as he allows his tip to sink into your needy cunt only a little, before he allows it to slip out, “fuck, Sugu, please, I want your cock,”

“There we go,” his chuckle rumbles against your skin, as he guides his length to your dripping pussy before beginning to sink in, “I told you we would be in here for a while,” his fingers find yours, as he thrusts into you in one smooth movement, his balls pressed flush to your ass, “even your fingertips have become like prunes,” he turns your head to see your lips parted and panting for him, cunt twitching as he drags a thumb down your lips, “but my favorite student doesn’t mind does she?” and you whimper as he pulls his hips back, only to pump back in even harder, a moan leaving your lips, as he holds an arm around you to hold you, as he presses his other palm against the wall, as he starts to fuck you in earnest.

The slaps of your wet skin echoes in the glass walls of the shower, steam from the hot water filling both of your visions, as his tip brushes against your cervix, “S’good, Sugu, so deep,” your walls flutter around his dick.

“Good girl, so perfect f’me, take me so well,” his balls slap against the soft flesh of your ass as he fucks you harder, “been thinking about this for so long, thought about taking you in that hotel room all those nights ago, and it’s better than I could have imagined,” one of his hands finds your breast, tweaking and pinching your nipple, as your walls only pull him in deeper and deeper each time he sinks back in, “perfect little princess cunt made f’me, only for me,”

He’s desperate, as he fucks you deeper and deeper, “Please, I’m close,” your soft cries and moans will be the death of him. He’s turning your head and leaning forward to pull you into a kiss, a sloppy kiss that’s all tongue and teeth. His hands squeeze your hips as he rocks against you again and again, the wet squelch of your cunt ringing in his ears, until he finally hits that spot that has you seeing stars, pulling you over the edge. You cum, the coil in your stomach snapping as you do, your walls clamping down on his dick, as he notches himself deep and cums — spurting his hot release deep inside, as the two of you moan, lips parting. The quiet water drumming against his back fills the silence along with your soft gasps and his pants. The two of you slump forward in the shower, his arm braced around your middle, as his softened cock slips from inside.

He presses soft kisses to your neck and cheek, whispering quiet praises, “Let’s finish washing up, baby, and I’ll help you into bed,” and you nod, boneless, as you lean against his chest, fingers brushing down his cheek, “are you okay?”

You nod, as you lean up to kiss his lips, “More than, when I’m with you,” and you add with a dreamy smile, “especially when I find out you’ve fantasized about me,” his already flushed cheeks even redder than before, “you’ll have to tell me more about these thoughts,”

“And if I refuse?” he murmurs, the blush kissing his ears now, the pink of his soft skin contrasting against the black of his gauges.

You hum, “I have my ways of making you talk,” and he snorts, as your expression softens, “I love you,”

He turns you gently, finding your lips in another kiss, your arms wrapped around his neck — and he can’t think of a place he’d rather be than with you, “I love you too.”

~~~

“It’ll fly by,” you murmur, as you rake your fingers through his hair — you had convinced him to get a trim a week ago, the dead ends long gone, and all that was left were his gorgeous locks. He still opted for the long hair look — sometimes it was tucked away in a bun, other times it was half up, and even at times, he kept it down, “it’s two weeks, and then I’ll come by to visit you,”

“It’s two weeks too long,” Suguru sighs, burying his face in the crook of your neck, “I’m sorry I had to do—”

You place a finger over his lips, “Don’t apologize for furthering your career with something you’ve always wanted to do,” you cut him off, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, “I only have one year left of the program, and then after that, we’ll see where we’re at—”

He glances away, “I don’t know where either of us will be — but I know I want us to be together,” he bites his lip, and it only makes you want to kiss him all the more, “if that’s what you want too,”

You pull back only to find his lips again, “You never mince your words do you, Professor?” You can’t help but smile at this man — the man you loved more than you could express in any combination of words.

“Well, I find my most bright students need a more direct approach,” and you laugh, as he’s pressing needy kisses along your jaw, nosing the sensitive skin, “I think you’ll find it’s a tried and true method,”

“Oh yeah, I’ve tried it — it’s very true,” as his lips kiss their way back to yours, “do you mean that? And what did you mean? Do you want us to live together or live in the same city—”

“I would like us to live together, if we are at that point then,” his gaze meets yours, a hint of concern dancing across his ever furrowed brow, “I don’t want to pressure you — so why don’t we discuss that when we get there?”

“Sounds reasonable,” your fingers smoothing his brow, “but for the record,” you kiss the tip of his nose, “I want to live with you too,” and you bite back a grin at the joy that evaporates the hints of worry on his features, “along with our non-negotiable dozen cats and adorable poodle,”

He laughs, an easy smile that pulled on his lips, as it always did with you, “I told you, I don’t take in strays aside from you,” you grab your pillow and hit him with it, as he laughs, “ow, ow, I’m joking! I’m sorry—” and you’re giggling as he rips the pillow from your grasp, only to roll you over onto your back, “it sounds nice — a home with you — waking up next to you, planning our days, spending our evenings,” he murmurs, “feels like a dream,”

You pull him into a kiss — you’ve had many dreams about this man before you — far too many sleepless nights hoping for this reality, only to have it ripped away. But you wouldn’t wake up from this dream, the back of your knuckles grazing his cheek, not ever.

“It won’t be — not for long.”

~~~~

“Still not awake? You’ll be late if you wake up any later,” a murmured whisper in your ear stirs you awake, words prying you from your unconscious, as you groan softly, limbs and eyes still so heavy with sleep. But you know you have to get up, part ways with your far too warm bed and the tempting grasp of your blanket.

“Don’t wanna wake up yet,” and a laugh rings in your ear, lips pressing soft kisses to your neck, “noooo, please, five more minutes,”

He relents as you stretch your limbs and stare at the spinning ceiling fan above you — your thoughts similarly circling the drain — you had a lecture, a presentation, a student council meeting to tend to — not to mention a meeting with your advisor and the department head about your thesis.

You turn and cuddle into his chest, pressing soft kisses along the space where his collarbone and chest meet, you smirk against his skin as he shivers, as he murmurs your name.

“What? I’m trying to wake up,” as you lean up and meet him in a lazy kiss, fingers finding the back of his neck, “what better way than this?”

Today was going to be long, but you supposed it was worth it only to end up here at the end of the day, as you turn and run your fingers through his black locks, “What do you have to do today? First day of a new semester,”

“Two lectures and our meeting later today, and maybe lunch with you?” And your lips curl, as you pull your phone off its charger to check your emails.

“Really? Lunch? You don’t think that wouldn’t rally scandal across campus two members of the student council conferring outside their meetings on the first day of spring semester?” And he laughs, turning to face you, his short black hair fell in messy tangled in front of his forehead, “might be tempting political intrigue, Yuta,”

And your boyfriend only smiles, jet black short locks falling in front of his forehead as his fingers brush your cheek before he leans over to press a sweet kiss to your forehead, “I think we’ll be alright,” his fingers intertwined with yours, “we’ve been pretty lucky, don’t you think?”

It was so simple, it was so easy, and it was so right.

And your phone flashed with a reminder that caught your eye: Meeting with Suguru Geto — the first time you’d see him in several months, the first time since you had broken up, and the first time since he had broken your heart.

And Yuta called your name, his eyes curious, “You okay?” And you only smile, locking your phone and the glaring reminder away, to lean over and kiss your boyfriend.

“More than okay,” as you slowly sit up, “come on, we can’t be late, can we?”

✧ a/n: this has been a long time coming - so when i planned part three with hannah, it was supposed to have three arcs -- this is only one of them lmao - i suppose i was a bit too ambitious with what i thought i could contain in one part. anyway sorry about this ending lmao :) love you - don't worry they will all have a happy ending

✧ taglist: @hatsunemitskislobotomy, @difficultdomains, @diogodxlot, @that-goth-bisexual, @bash1018, @dazailover1900, @aliyalala, @ashhlsstuff, @blue041803, @mwtsxri, @bblgumfairy, @sukunasleftkneecap, @xo-evangeline, @fiannee, @teatreeoilll, @chalametet, @ryukaver, @d1gitalbathh, @saga3ious, @seventhcinema, @satosugucide, @your-l0nely-star, @sokkasmoon, @deegausserr, @hyookka, @oggsyy, @littlebitb, @higuchislut, @ti-mame, @itoshisins, @cerene-dipity, @onionsoop, @sinlillith, @izzythenaive, @akvrae, @lalacute03, @rxndou, @c-themoon, @xxrag-d0llxx, @hqtoge, @sugarxlumps, @hopeluna, @actualdeemon, @enchantedpendant, @serendididy, @soulstealercat, @neuviloved, @simply-a-s1mp, @satorusmochis, @maddietries,

#sab [mlist]#sab series [prof suguru]#suguru geto x reader #suguru geto smut #geto suguru smut #geto x reader #geto smut #geto x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader

4K notes · View notes

komsomolka · 2 months ago

Text

No commentator on 7 October last year - myself included - would have predicted that the war would still be being fought with the utmost ferocity a year on. No one would have predicted a year ago that Israel would be fighting for longer than it did when it established its state in 1948. All wars Israel has fought since have been brief shows of absolute strength. [...]

Under Netanyahu’s right-wing government, the lives of the hostages were secondary to the aim of smashing Hamas. Had the hostages returned, Netanyahu could now be facing a long term in prison. But he has demonstrably failed to smash Hamas, hence the speed with which he has started a new war with Lebanon and Hezbollah. [...] Hamas re-emerges wherever Israeli troops are not. Plain clothes police officers emerge to settle disputes within a matter of hours.

At first, Israel tried to wipe out Hamas’s leadership. It has killed the first and second ranks of officials running the government, most of them in a massacre outside al-Shifa hospital.

But an insight into what is actually going on in Gaza was offered by Israel's latest announcement that it had killed three senior Hamas officials - Rawhi Mushtaha, the head of government and de facto prime minister; Sameh al-Siraj, who held the security portfolio on Hamas’s political bureau; and Sami Oudeh, commander of Hamas’s General Security Mechanism. The air strike happened three months ago, and no one had noticed their absence. This is because Hamas continued to function regardless of which leaders were alive or dead. [...]

Israel’s terror only begets more terror. The destruction of West Beirut in 1982 inspired Osama bin Laden’s attack on the Twin Towers in 2001. [...]

On 6 October, the Palestinian national cause was dead, if not buried. After more than 30 years of Oslo accords, Gaza was totally isolated. Its siege was permanent, and no one cared. Netanyahu claimed victory, in September 2023 waving a map at the UN in which the West Bank did not exist. There was only one item on the regional agenda and that was Saudi Arabia’s impending normalisation with Israel. [...]

Today, Hamas has changed the course of events, because the peaceful path to a viable Palestinian state was blocked. All talk of a peace process was a Potemkin-size mirage. Oslo not only failed to deliver a Palestinian state. It created the conditions for the Israeli state to expand and thrive as never before in the West Bank and Jerusalem. [...]

Regionally, the axis of resistance, which for much of the period since the Arab Spring, was a rhetorical device, has become a functioning military alliance. [...]

Palestine has returned to its rightful place, which is to occupy the key role in determining the stability of the region.

Israel’s brutal response to 7 October has reversed decades of Israeli and US efforts to convince Arabs that Palestine could no longer have a veto on Israeli-Arab relations. Today that veto is stronger than ever before. [...]

Of the two strategies, Sinwar’s seems to be working. Whether he lives or dies, that agenda already has an unstoppable momentum of its own. [...]

This war has stripped Israel of its liberal Zionist image, the image of the new kid on the block trying to defend itself in a “tough neighbourhood”. This has been replaced by the image of a regional ogre, a genocidal state, with no moral compass, using terror to survive. Such a state cannot live in peace with its neighbours. It crushes and dominates to survive.

Netanyahu’s war is short-term and tactical. Sinwar’s war is long-term. It is to make Israel realise it can never keep the lands it has occupied if it wants peace.

Netanyahu’s war is a year old and can only continue in the same way it started by meting out the same devastation to south Lebanon that Gaza received. It has no reverse gear. Sinwar’s war has only just started.

How Netanyahu stole defeat from the jaws of victory: Netanyahu's brutal response to 7 October has undone decades of increasingly successful efforts by Israel and the US to convince Arab governments to abandon the Palestinian national cause.

#palestine

471 notes · View notes

hannie-dul-set · 7 months ago

Text

AN UNLIKELY FANMEETING.

p — LEE JENO x female! reader. g — gang leader! jeno, actress! reader, humor, tension tension tension, jeno gets kidnapped by his celebrity crush, this is stupid, this is dumb, don't take this seriously. w — swearing, kidnapping, morally dubious characters HAHHAHA. 935 words.

note — happy birthday jeno. to the anon that sent the trope list curated for me, this is your fault. take responsibility. the prompt "accidentally kidnapping a mafia boss" suddenly terrorized my brain while i was studying. enjoy.

when lee jeno opens his eyes, a dull ringing in his ears, he sees nothing but the faint impression of a lightbulb burning through the sack covering his head. it’s dark. there’s an echo when he grunts and tries to move, but upon feeling the rope pressed against his wrists, the stiffness of his shoulders and the metal scratching of the chair against the rough ground— he’s quick to understand the situation he’s in.

the last thing he remembers, he was about to board a plane to japan. to spend a few months lying low after the particularly risky job his gang had to undertake not too long ago.

seems like someone managed to sniff him out before he could flee.

splash!

“wake up, you slimy son of a bitch.”

cold water hits, seeping into the fabric covering his face and crawling down to his collarbones. now, considering his line of work, jeno isn’t too fazed by this situation. he has a lot of enemies. maybe this one’s from a rival gang. could be a relative seeking revenge for a brother’s cracked skull, or some shit. doesn’t matter. he’s not gonna stay sitting for long anyway.

“did you really think you could cheat on me and run away scot free?”

cheat? the sack gets thrown off from his head, a hand yanking a handful of his hair to pull his head back and he lets out a grunt. the chair is tipped back. jesus fucking christ, that felt personal. but when the sudden illumination stops blinding him, and he can finally see who the hell had the guts to jump and kidnap him, he’s a little taken aback.

jeno has a lot of enemies. the list goes on and on.

“use your fucking mouth, bast—”

but he’s pretty sure that the darling angel of south korea’s film industry isn’t on that list.

jeno watches as the vivid scorn and disgust in your eyes slowly meld into confusion, then realization, then a slow but sure descent into panic alongside the loosening of your grip.

“oh.”

must be the skills of an award winning actress. he feels almost a hint of disappointment when you stop pulling on the roots of his damp hair.

“oh, shit. one moment.”

clang! the chair he’s tied to settles once more into the ground with a clatter, and jeno watches as you quickly secure a distance between you and him, pulling your phone out of your sweats while biting the tips of your thumbnail. it’s a little funny seeing the nation’s sweetheart pacing back and forth all jittery in what looks like a basement— maybe your basement. as far as jeno can remember, you’re always casted for romance films. those feel-good, slice of lives and the pocari sweat commercial you once did echoes in the back of his head. but maybe you have a hidden knack for some thriller.

he starts fiddling with the ropes tied around his wrists right at the moment you screech into your phone. dispatch would have a field day if they see this.

“you got the wrong guy! my ex isn’t this hot!”

his fingers slip. his skin scratches the rough threads of the rope.

“i paid you useless fucks a shit ton of money to get the job done, but you can’t even get— ugh! nevermind. just go and bring me the actual son of a bitch i asked for this time.”

the knot is almost loose. this is quite the show. it’s better than all the movies he’s seen of you.

“what?! hello?! what do you mean you can’t help me anymore, what about our—”

drop. jeno gets up from the chair. he stretches his joints, neck cracking, watching as you sputter out a trove of profanities at your phone. his clothes are still damp from the water you splashed him earlier. maybe he should have a bit of fun first before leaving. it’s not everyday that you get to meet your celebrity crush.

“hey, dollface,” he calls out. you freeze. you look at him with the drop of a needle, eyes growing a little bit wider when you realize he should be sitting down. damn, they really need to cast you in a grittier film. “you should pay a bit more attention when you have someone hostage.”

a beat of silence.

“uhm,” your voice croaks. jeno takes a step towards you. you take a step back. “listen, haha, there has been a misunderstanding.”

your steps stutter a little, moving back and back and you swallow nervously, looking at him with almost sheepishly— a sense of feigned bravery in the midst of retreat, teeth tugging on the skin of your lips. “oh, yeah?” he says, and you visibly rattle. you’re prettier like this than when you’re batting your eyes and flirting at the camera. you’re definitely prettier.

“yes, ahaha, there was a minor switch-up, you see i— i didn’t mean to...uh, escort you from the airport, i actually meant to target someone else, and— o–oh, and there’s a wall behind me. oops, haha. do you mind backing away a bit, um—”

“how about i help you with the ex boyfriend problem you have?”

the tables turn. it’s him digging his face up against yours this time, but the mention of your ex strikes a chord. you’re looking at him, gaze unbreaking. he can feel your shallow breaths on his skin.

“who are you exactly?”

“someone who can do the job better that the fuckers you sent me, definitely,” he chuckles. “how about it?”

he won’t ask for much. maybe just an autograph in return.

AN UNLIKELY FANMEETING. © hannie-dul-set, 2023.

#jeno x you #lee jeno x reader #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #nct dream x you #nct dream sc #nct dream scenarios #nct sce #nct scenarios #jeno x reader #nct drabbles #nct au #jeno au #this is not proofread btw fuck it we ball!!!

411 notes · View notes

darby-rowe · 11 months ago

Text

༊*·˚ princely.

coriolanus snow x dark!fem!reader

word count 1.5k cw dark themes, NONCON SOMNOPHILIA, dead dove do not eat, reader has a gross internal monologue, handjob, coriolanus is unaware of his assault, not proofread notes hey! i don't condone anything described in this fic irl! what the reader does here is gross and is literally assault. PLEASE HEED THE CONTENT WARNINGS BECAUSE SHIT GETS WEIRD! got it? good. then pls enjoy ♡ wanna give a quick thanks to my mutual @shellxrls for inspiring me to write more dark content, and for encouraging me to post this. if it wasn't for her, this fic would have never seen the light of day.

Your fingernails grip so hard into the blanket you fear you may rip the soft fleece from its stitches. Staring down at the beautiful boy sleeping next to you in your bed, looking so utterly soft and peaceful. You watch his chest rise up and down slowly with each breath he takes, studying how his muscles move beneath his skin. His soft blonde curls sprawl delicately across his face. You didn’t even know it was possible to look so princely while you slept, but Coriolanus Snow was living proof.

You had previously allowed Coriolanus to stay at your apartment for a few days while his place went under renovations, courtesy of his newfound inheritance of the Pinths’ fortune. He was your best friend after all, so who were you to deny him hospitality?

But on the first night of him sleeping in your bed, you find yourself questioning every aspect of your moral compass now that you had him beside you looking so vulnerable. Your fingers twitch. The temptation is nearly killing you. He’s most likely deep within some kind of dream, so…

Before your mind comprehends what you’re doing, your hand is on his smooth, toned chest, feeling him breathe underneath your touch. You want to pull your hand away, to stop before you start, but your hand feels as if it’s stuck to his smooth skin. What’s happening? Why aren’t you stopping yourself? Oh god, Coryo looks so hot when he sleeps. Is he dreaming? Is he dreaming about you? If he’s dreaming about you, then surely that means he’s into you, so he wouldn’t mind if you were to just—

Before you could realize what you’re doing, your hand is moving further down south Coriolanus’s torso, heeding every single physical and verbal cue that could indicate he’s waking up. You bite down hard on your lip — almost a bit too hard — as your hand approaches closer and closer to the waistband of his boxers. So crisply pristine, a pearly white color, almost too perfect. Did he not have a single pair of ruined underwear? Surely he must have a pair in the hamper with his cum stains painting the front. Maybe even multiple pairs. Yeah, multiple pairs of ruined underwear caused by Coriolanus’s physiology. The thought makes your pussy throb, and you look down as you thumb the waistband of his boxers.

But you decide to not venture towards the promised land just yet. Instead, you ghost your fingertips over the print of Coriolanus’s large cock. You have to swallow hard as your mouth waters, frantically flicking your eyes back and forth from his face to your hands. You think to yourself, is it too late to turn back? Could you still save yourself from the horrifying embarrassment of getting caught touching your friend in his sleep?

A small groan escapes his throat, and at the speed of light you retract your hand and wait for further instruction. Coriolanus does not open his eyes, but you still wait a few moments before putting your hand back.

Oh, Coryo. Oh sweet, princely, beautiful Coryo — if only he could see how pretty he looks right now resting his soft curls on your pillows, then maybe he’ll understand why you’re doing what you’re doing. Just can’t help myself, you think.

You really begin to think about the circumstances. You’re a hot girl. You’re insanely hot with a sharp tongue and even sharper brain. You have ambitions, goals, and fully thought out plans for the future. You’re perfect girlfriend and wife material. Would Coriolanus really be bothered by someone like you touching him in his sleep? In fact, he would probably be grateful.

Ugh, no! What? Stop thinking like that. You’re so full of yourself you’re choking on your own ego. You’re a violator. A venomous pervert. A venomous, conniving, irresistibly hot pervert.

You sigh to yourself. Your brain just keeps thinking in circles and in circles and in circles and in circles. You can’t be doing this. Just a little won’t hurt? This is as far as you’ll go. He won’t even mind at all because you notice the way he looks at you like you’re a lamb for the slaughter. This isn’t right. You can’t be doing this. Just a little won’t hurt?

The room temperature rises. A lining of sweat appears on your hairline as you continue to lightly ghost your fingers over the print of Coriolanus’s hardening cock. He’s starting to make noises more frequently. He must be dreaming now.

You dare to whisper, see if maybe your voice will bleed into his dreams. You’re dying to know how he’ll react. Ever so softly, his name escapes your lips like a delicate puff of smoke from inhaling a cigarette.

“Coryo,”

You wait.

You wait for a moan, a sigh, a physical response.

Nothing.

You say a silent prayer to yourself before leaning in closer, attempting to manipulate his dreams once more.

“Coryo, I’m here,”

You perk up as a tiny moan escapes Coriolanus’s mouth, and even more exciting, his cock twitches beneath your fingertips.

This was your sign to keep going.

Carefully, you retract your hand and drool a generous amount of saliva onto your fingers and in the palm of your hand before slipping your hand underneath the waistband of his boxers. And as your fingers made contact with his hardening cock, you shiver.

Your entire body flares up with goosebumps and your pussy throbs and aches almost instantly. You have to take a moment to yourself before you begin stroking him, to just hold his shaft within your perverted, filthy hand. Your heart is beating so fast that you’re afraid you might pass out before you can indulge in the fun.

Your hand trembles as you begin to stroke him, keeping a light yet generous grip as you pump his cock up and down. He’s beginning to moan more loud than before, and more frequently. You think to yourself about how you could cum right then and there just from feeling his dick and listening to him moan.

It’s dark in your bedroom, but your eyes adjusted a while ago, giving you a fair view of Coriolanus’s cock in your hand. You swipe your thumb across his slit, and for a moment you stop as a sharp gasp emits from the sleeping boy. But when he shows no sign of waking up, you continue.

“So big…” you whisper to yourself, voice barely audible. You feel his cock begin to leak with pre-cum and you slick up his shaft with his own bodily juices, making your hand pump his cock more smoothly as you pick up the pace.

You wonder to yourself if you could even get away with straddling his hips to sit down on his dick, slowly impaling yourself as your tight pussy envelops him in his sleep. How would he react? You can picture it now: you, stripped of your panties and nightgown, tits bouncing up and down as you ride his cock. Eventually, he’ll stir awake to the image of your hot body on top of him, moaning and whimpering sweetly. And he won’t fight back, oh no. Because you’ve seen the way he looks at you — you don’t think he knows how you study the way he licks his lips as he eyes you up and down. Your pussy is on his mind 24/7. He’s obsessed with you. You’re surprised he hasn’t tried to touch you in your sleep. You’d welcome the sentiment, though, as your eyes would slowly flutter open to the sight of Coriolanus pounding his cock into you. You wouldn’t tell him to stop.

Would he tell you to stop?

You’d like to think so. But you can’t afford to think of alternate versions of this night as your hand is now thoroughly pumping his cock in a proper handjob. Coriolanus mewls and twitches in his sleep, and your mind can’t begin to comprehend how hot he looks completely at your mercy.

“Pretty, so pretty,” you whisper. “Don’t even know I’m fisting your fucking cock, yeah? Wish this was my pussy? Wish I was fucking you in your sleep instead of giving you this lousy handjob?”

You don’t know what comes over you as you lean down to kiss his sleeping lips, and before you know it, he’s lazily grunting as he spills his cum all over your hand.

And you’re so turned on you feel more as if you have to pee more than anything. Your pussy pulsates as you feel his cock throb underneath your hand, and you have to practically force yourself to pull your hand away and lay back down.

Mere seconds after his orgasm, you feel and hear Coriolanus stir and wake up. He mumbles a curse word under his breath as he assesses his sticky situation.

You just lay there, with your hand still covered in his cum, as a deep, dark dread fills your chest. Someone pours liquid lead into your heart as reality settles back in for you.

What have I done?

darby-rowe, 2024. do not plagiarize my content, nor distribute my content onto any other website like AO3, etc. my writing is exclusive to tumblr only.

#♡; dally writes!#dead dove do not eat #cw noncon #cw somnophilia #cw noncon somno #fem!reader #fem reader #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow smut #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #thg tbosas #tbosas #x reader #x reader fanfiction #x reader smut

674 notes · View notes

mysterious-moonstruck-musings · 30 days ago

Text

Buried Secrets Teaser

Buried Secrets Masterlist ||| Main Masterlist Frankie Morales x OFC

Summary: After the harrowing events in South America, Frankie and the guys have returned home and opened their own private security business. They're eventually approached by an archeologist, named Mya, who is requesting their specialized services for an archeological expedition in the Amazonian jungle of southeastern Peru, hours away from where they stashed Lorea's money just over the border in the mountains of northern Chile.

Frankie is hesitant to accept the job, but with Pope's insistence this could be their cover to go back for the money, he relents. However, Frankie soon learns their new job assignment only further puts them and his new love interest in danger in an unexpected way as they set out to find the lost Incan city of Paititi.

👉 Warnings: smut (MDNI), angst, mentions of mental health struggles and past drug use (it's Frankie), there are bad guys with weapons (gun violence, physical violence, death). Frankie Morales comes with his own warnings.

✨If you would like to be added to the tag list, let me know in the comments or shoot me a DM.

Hello my lovelies,

I bring you just a little update. I’ve started writing bits of scenes as they come to me. Given that…how about a nice little 1.8K word preview? Maybe Frankie’s introduction to Mya? Notice I said, Frankie’s introduction to Maya and not their introduction to each other. 👀🤭

More below the cut. Enjoy!

Frankie's POV

I stood leaning against the door frame to my office, arms crossed over my chest as I listened to Benny run through our options for some schedule changes. Will stood nearby, listening intently and occasionally offering up his opinion. He was about to speak when his attention was drawn to movement outside the front window, “Hey guys, looks like we got a new client. A fancy blacked out SUV just pulled up,”

Benny moved to stand next to his brother to peer out the window, “Oh damn, this chic’s hot.”

That was Pope’s siren call. He immediately stuck his head out of his office after spending the last 30 minutes ignoring our conversation about scheduling issues while he no doubt played games on his phone.

“Did you say you needed me, Ben?” he asked nonchalantly, just as our topic of conversation walked in. Pope nearly tripped over his own feet when he caught sight of her. Not that I could blame him. She commanded the attention of the room as soon as she stepped through the doorway and took off her expensive looking sunglasses.

It didn’t even have anything to do with her looks. She just had this magnetic aura that drew you in and also intimidated the fuck out of you. She was dressed in a black pant suit that hugged her curves in all the right places, yet still leaving everything to the imagination. Her spiked heels no doubt added a few inches to her height as she confidently walked across the lobby with her shoulders back and chin up. Her long mahogany hair swung around her shoulders, perfectly straight with no strands out of place. She was sexy as fuck and definitely not our typical clientele.

We all seemed to be stunned into silence as she came to a stop just in front of where we had congregated near the conference room entrance. Benny was the one to speak up first, standing a little straighter before he opened his mouth. “Hi there ma’am, can we help you with something?” he sputtered out.

“I’d like to speak with Mr. Morales please,” she said without hesitation.

Benny stood there, mouth hanging open as his eyes shifted to me. Will spoke then, “Mr. Morales typically doesn’t meet with new clients. Mr. Miller here and myself handle that.”

She feigned a polite smile, “I get that, but I would prefer to speak with the owner directly as this is a bit urgent and sensitive. I’m sure you can understand.”

Her tone made it clear that was her final answer. Pope obviously didn’t read the room as he stepped forward to intervene, turning on his charm and giving his best flirty smile, “If you wanna step into my office, we can have a chat about your situation. I’m sure I can get you taken care of.”

Her eyes narrowed on him, a playful smirk forming on her lips as she scanned him from head to toe, “I don’t believe you’re Mr. Morales.”

Pope’s mouth dropped open, then snapped shut. That wasn’t the response he was expecting. The woman’s eyes shifted to me as her smile widened, “But you are. Mind if we have a chat in private?”

I was momentarily frozen by the intensity of her gaze, then confused about how she knew I was who she was looking for. My brows arched as I pursed my lips. We just sort of stared at each other for a brief moment. It felt like she was analyzing every move I made as her gaze raked over me. I uncrossed my arms and stepped to the side, motioning for her to step into my office.

I glanced over at the guys, all three of them were watching her retreating form. If I looked hard enough, I could probably see the drool coming out of Pope’s mouth as he salivated over the possibilities. His eyes finally met mine, sparkling with mischief as he smiled and said, “Será mejor que cierres ese trato.” (You better close that deal.)

I rolled my eyes at his insinuation, “Vete a la mierda,” (Fuck off.)

I could hear Benny and Will snickering as I turned to join the puzzling woman waiting in my office. After closing the door behind me, I was met with her amused expression as she stood with one arm across her chest, the other propped on it so she could rest her chin on her fingers.

“Do you always let him hit on clients?” she asked with a smirk.

I shrugged, “I do enjoy watching him stick his foot in his mouth. I can’t help myself.”

She chuckled as our gazes met. My heart rate suddenly picked up as I cleared my throat and moved to lean against my desk, “So, you gotta name? Seems like you already know mine.”

She smiled, not moving from where she stood, “Sorry, that was rude of me to not introduce myself. I’m Mya Carnahan.”

I crossed my arms, “Well, Miss Carnahan, what can Delta 5 Security Solutions help you with?”

She dropped her hands to her sides, smiling up at me through her lashes, “Getting right to it then, I like that.”

I bit the inside of my cheek as I watched her unbutton her suit jacket, then stick her hands in her pockets as she began to pace my office. I could already tell she was going to be a problem. I just wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad one.

“I’ll be leading an archeological dig in the Southeastern Peruvian jungle. I’m gonna need security for my team while we’re there.”

My brows furrowed, “And why would an archeological dig site need our kind of security?”

She paused her pacing to look at me, “The locals won’t exactly be excited about it. Many believe those sites should remain untouched because of old Incan legends. We also have the narcos to worry about. I’m sure you’re aware drugs are heavily trafficked down there?”

I nodded, already feeling reluctant about taking this on. I knew exactly what this would lead to once I told Pope about it. The location was too close to where we stashed Lorea's money. He would want to go back for it.

“The narcos sometimes move product through those remote areas, have stash houses, and even cultivate in the middle of the jungle. If we were to...unknowingly encroach on their territory, they wouldn’t hesitate to put an end to things.”

I pushed off my desk, moving to stand with my hands on my hips, “Not trying to be rude, but you don’t strike me as an archaeologist. What exactly is it that you do, Miss Carnahan?”

Her eyes were fixed on me as she fought a smile, “When I’m not digging up mummies and old relics, I’m an antiquities dealer. Before you ask…I’m a reputable dealer with ethical sourcing.”

I arched my brow. Somehow I doubted that. “Who’s your benefactor? I know these digs are expensive. Do I need to be concerned that they’ve pissed anyone off?”

She tucked her plump bottom lip between her teeth, deciding on how to respond. Thoughts of biting that lip myself flashed through my mind. I had to quickly shove them away.

“That’s confidential information. I’ve been asked to not share it. Best I can give is that he’s a well-off gentleman that does legitimate business on a global scale. So yes, he’s probably pissed a few people off. He doesn’t want his name attached to it. As far as anyone is concerned, the dig is funded by donations, which isn’t completely untrue.”

I scoffed, “I’m sorry, but if you can’t give me all the information, then I’m not interested in taking this on. I require a certain level of trust with our clients and I don’t take risks.”

She ignored my response, pacing again and continuing on as if I hadn’t just told her no.

“I haven’t gotten my team fully assembled yet, but I’m thinking we'll have 30-40 people. We’ll need at least one pilot to fly some of the bigger equipment in. Though, I’d prefer two, just in case we need to make a quick exit. We’re planning to be there for at least three months for the initial expedition. We leave in two weeks.”

I stared at her wide-eyed, “Did you hear what I just said? I’m not interested unless you give me all the information I ask for. And who says we have pilots and enough staff on hand to travel to the Peruvian jungle for three months on short notice?”

She was smiling at me again as she approached, crowding my space as we stood face to face.

“You’re a pilot, right? There’s one…and I know you hire veterans, so I’m betting there’s another one and that a lot of them would be jumping at the opportunity to do something like this. I’d wager your three guys out front would if given the opportunity.”

How the fuck does she know so much? I was beginning to worry this might be some sort of setup to get us back to South America.

“How do you know I’m a pilot?” I asked.

She looked around my office and motioned to the pictures on the wall. I chuckled and nodded. That was a rookie mistake, Fish.

“I don’t do field work anymore…and like I said…you haven’t told me all the information.”

She was still giving me that sweet smile, “I’m fairly confident you’re not gonna turn me down, Mr. Morales. You’re too intrigued.”

She pulled a business card out of her pocket and handed it to me. It was black and glossy with shiny embossed gold lettering that said Hathor’s Gallery of Antiquities framed with a fancy gold border on the back of it. Even her fucking business card felt expensive.

“I need to know something by noon tomorrow, or else I’m moving on to another security firm.”

My head snapped up, “Another firm? There is no one else locally that can provide what you need.”

She gave me a smug smile, “You sure about that?”

She had to be fucking with me. “Yeah, I am.”

She moved to open the door to leave, pausing to look back over her shoulder in my direction, “By noon, or else I’m moving on.”

“We haven’t even discussed payment details,” I added following her to the lobby.

She paused in the middle of the waiting area, “You only need to name your price and I’ll pay it.”

I could feel the eyes of Benny, Will, and Pope on us as we stared each other down for a beat. I didn’t know how to respond to that as I stood with my mouth gaping.

“We’ll talk more tomorrow once you’ve officially made your decision," she said as she turned toward the exit. She shifted her attention to the guys still standing outside the conference room entrance, “Mr. Garcia, try to stay outta trouble…Millers, enjoy your afternoon.”

Without another word, she was gone, climbing into the back of the SUV as the driver held the door open for her.

“What the hell was that?” Benny asked.

I sighed and shook my head, “I...don’t fucking know.”

A/N: Annnd the first words have been yeeted into the world. Thoughts? Feelings? Excited? Fuck off with that?🤣 Frankie and Maya are obviously going to have an interesting dynamic. I can't wait until these two start bumping heads. This should be another fun ride. 💜Mysty In case you missed it: ✨Meet the Characters ✨Teasers & Asks ✨Vibes

BS Taglist: @2birdsofafeather @72scsuze @76bookworm76 @a-beautiful-but-sassy-world @almostfoxglove

@angelofsmalldeath-codeine @annalovesflorida @anniet852 @ashleyfilm @ashlovesdrpepper

@auteurdelabre @avastrasposts @biggetywitch @bitchwitch1981 @bluestar22x

@bunniboo0015 @burntheedges @captainredspade @chaoticfestninja @cheekychaos28

@christinamadsen @copperhalfcent @darkheartgatita @diabaroxa @din-cognito

@elisabethloves @fifitheragertot @for-a-longlongtime @girlofchaos @guelyury

@harriedandharassed @hisandsnakes @imdrinkingpedro @jackie923 @janeie87

@jeewrites @jensensational71 @jessthebaker @jessthebaker @joels-darlin

@kate-skates @katw474 @kels976 @lady-bess @gwendibleywrites

@ladyofmidlo72 @lizzie-cakes @madnessofadaydreamer @maggiemoo1892 @mandeepandee1997

@maried01 @maryfanson @missladym1981 @misstokyo7love

@notyouraveragemochii @nova-starlite @olafsmiles2020 @oliveksmoked @harrysrosetatto

@owlhypnosis @pasc4lfuzz @pearlthegurl @plancommence @purplewis44

@rav3n-pascal22 @readingiskeepingmegoing @runningmom94 @ryuzakemo128 @sandaltoesocks

@sherala007 @sjc7542 @southernbe @stevie75 @stileslvr

@sub-aro @sundaze29 @survivingandenduring @suziesc @the-strawberrythief

@thethirstwivesclub @timpletance @tiredandtwitchy @titlee78 @trulybetty

@tupelomiss @weho2kcmo @willcw-tree @xchar1 @yep531

@yesjazzywazzylove-blog @yopossum @yopossum-loves @yorksgirl @beefrobeefcal

@papipascaaaal @shadowpandas @tangled-tumbler-blog-blog @you-give-aspirin-headaches @jollybhie

@sunshinehaze1 @diamondclit0ris @midnightbabylon @nerdieforpedro @cheyennerenee10

@brittmb115

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal characters #frankie morales #triple frontier #enemies to lovers #adventure #archaeology #frankie gets his fucking money #coming...eventually #buried secrets teaser

141 notes · View notes

hero-israel · 1 year ago

Note

sorry if this is a dumb question and i understand if you don't want to answer but do you have links to posts explaining why israel isn't an apartheid state? i swear i read posts like that on your blog before but i don't know how to refind them

Israeli Arabs have legal equality with Jews. Same restaurants, same pools, same seats on the bus, same voting rights. I would favorably compare the treatment of Israeli Arabs with that of any minority group in any country on Earth.

The West Bank has a military occupation, with (pretty fast) checkpoints and no right to vote about the government running that military. Military occupations are bad and some of us have been against this particular one for decades. The anti-occupation movement hasn't gotten anywhere, they've just been stuck. Being stuck in a military occupation for X more years doesn't make it apartheid, just like being stuck in a bad marriage for X more years doesn't make you divorced. Meanwhile, the 2020 Abraham Accords showed that multiple Arab states were willing to accept this unchanging status quo and deal with Israel as it is. Those two factors - the stagnant, unchanging nature of the occupation, and the clear loss of interest in the Palestinian cause - combined to have the latest crop of awareness-raising college interns at some shifty NGOs try to force change by abracadabra'ing together a new concept of "apartheid" that exists solely for Israel. And it is working, just like "Christ-killer" and "stabbed Germany in the back" worked.

In 2010, Human Rights Watch published an extremely critical report on Israel's occupation of the West Bank. Dragged them up one wall and down the other. Yet there was no accusation of "apartheid" there. In the report, page 33, they cited a lawsuit by the Association for Civil Rights in Israel that had said it was apartheid for the West Bank military occupation authorities to ban Palestinians from driving on Highway 443 after repeated firebombings / shootings against Israelis. The Israeli High Court ruled that it was inappropriate to ban Palestinians from the road, and it re-established their equal driving access - they have had it ever since. The court also said that the accusation of apartheid behind that now-ended ban was dishonest, because the security concerns were not based on race; there were and are no "Jewish-only" roads anywhere, even when WB Palestinians were denied road access, Israeli Arabs could and did drive there. The HRW 2010 report included a long summary of that finding, without challenge. As bad as they saw Israel, they agreed it wasn't apartheid.

Then in 2020 came the Abraham Accords, so while nothing at all had changed in the administration of the West Bank, in 2021 HRW said it actually was apartheid. It really is that simple. The most famous legal convention banning apartheid specifies that it is race-based. HRW instead went with a different legal convention on apartheid, one that says it could be based on national origin if it involves discrimination among citizens of the same country.... and then they up and added their own twist to that, saying they will consider it apartheid if there is discrimination based on national origin AMONG PEOPLE WHO AREN'T CITIZENS OF THE SAME COUNTRY. In a very real sense, HRW declared Mexico is an apartheid state because Americans can't vote in its elections.

In 2022, Amnesty International followed with their own report, saying that not only was the military occupation now "apartheid," but that Israel itself had been an apartheid state ever since it was established in 1948. This moral perversion had the effect of saying Israel literally INVENTED apartheid since in May 1948 it didn't even exist in South Africa yet. It also said that Amnesty International - founded 1961 - had been looking at an apartheid the whole time but never recognized it. To make things even more dishonest, Amnesty said they "are not claiming Israeli conditions are analogous to South Africa," meaning anything that shows how Israel is different from South Africa doesn't count. They're using the South African word for the South African policy but it's actually not like South Africa at all so be quiet, neener neener no backsies.

I shouldn't have to take that seriously. Neither should anyone. Palestinians and their advocates should be ashamed to have to lean on such an obvious bad-faith lie.

Nelson Mandela, who died in 2013, never once accused Israel of apartheid, and instead repeatedly said he supported Zionism and a 2-state solution. Mandela's lawyer, still alive, says the accusation is a lie. Mansour Abbas, leader of the Arab Islamist party that joined Israel's governing coalition in 2021, says the accusation is a lie. And if people want to bandy around NGO business cards, here is the International Committee of the Red Cross in 2017:

“The Red Cross was very familiar with the regime that prevailed in South Africa during the apartheid period, and we are responding to all those who raise their claim of apartheid against Israel: No, there is no apartheid here, no regime of superiority of race, of denial of basic human rights to a group of people because of their alleged racial inferiority. There is a bloody national conflict, whose most prominent and tragic characteristic is its continuation over the years, decades-long, and there is a state of occupation. Not apartheid.”

There's a lot more you can see about the shifty terminology, unreliable sourcing, and longstanding culture of antisemitism and racism within Amnesty International. People who can cite chapter and verse of why the Salvation Army, Autism Speaks, Chik-Fil-A and Harry Potter are problematic should not be shocked.

#israel #palestine #amnesty international #apartheid #antisemitism #leftist antisemitism #false accusations #european antisemitism #jumblr #human rights watch

489 notes · View notes

angrykittybarbarian · 18 hours ago

Text

About that Dragon Age: The Veilguard audio web series

Thinking back about the marketing for DATV I now realize it was kind of deceptive.

No, it was not literal fraud. They did not make specific promises and then broke them, not explicitely and in a way you could hold them liable in court over. And I get when you are advertising your product you will of course highlight its most favorable aspects while not shoving its negative sides into everyone's noses.

However I do think that EA/Bioware did stretch out the boundaries between regular endorsement and fraud.

It started with the web series Vows and Vengeance they uploaded weekly on Youtube right before release. At that time I was still hopeful and excited for the game. And Vows and Vengeance all but encouraged that excitement.

You know why? Because, and this surprised me, it was genuinely good.

Vows and Vengeance functioned as an early introduction to the companions. While they were not the main characters they did play a key role in each episode. The plot was what could be typically expected from a regular DA installment. It had a dark, gripping story. The dialogue was well written. It dealt with mature themes, it actually discussed the classism of Tevinter.

Lucanis was a proper crow who killed a good man because he was hired to do so. He was positively morally grey. Davrin had actually strong opinions when the main character dropped the Dread Wolf's name. Bellara was interesting in that it became clear how she struggled with her ADHD without using infantile language, Scout Harding acted smart, mature and competent, Taash was a morally grey bad ass, fitting for a freelance treasure hunter and with smart and witty dialogue to go with it.

It was amazing, I found myself excited every week for a new episode. It got me interested in the companions. I already contemplated to romance Taash because they were so cool and charismatic in that series. I thought, if a FREE webseries that was made for advertisement was already this great then the game had to be nothing short of phenomenal.

And then it just...wasn't. There was nothing of the depth that came through in the web series. It was as if I was presented with a sample of a multilayered chocolate cake but got a dry brownie after I actually paid the full price for it.

The sheer audacity behind this course of action is still so inconcievable to me, I sometimes still wonder why they put effort into writing the free thing and not the product they demand payment for. I still don't get it. The only explanation is they purposefully put out a misleading sample to lure in the customers in the beginning to spend money, right?

This fraud adjacent behavior does not stop there.

Remember when we thought we would be importing our worldstates from our previous games? There wasn't even a question about it in the beginning because this is such an intrinsic Bioware feature. But then the info about the three choices in the character creator leaked.

Leaked!

Meaning they never intended for this information to be known pre-release. They fully intended to keep it secret until it would be too late. They also never said they wanted a soft reboot.

This is the conclusion the fandom has drawn after they destroyed their own lore and went scorched earth on the entire south of Thedas.

And the biggesr lie was when they said this was their best work. After all this!

This is the reason why DATV's shortcomings are so devastating. This is why so many feel like the game was a slap to their faces. EA/Bioware gaslit and manipulated us from the very beginning. We have been cheated and betrayed.

The last bit of trust I and many others had in Bioware, they mercilessly crushed.

I personally will never take even one thing they say at face value again. You can only trust their actions from now on.

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dragon age 2 #dragon age origins #dragon age the veilguard #vows and vengeance #taash #lucanis dellamorte #scout harding #bellara lutare #davrin #datv critical #bioware critical

99 notes · View notes

femininomenon13 · 2 months ago

Text

i have seen people call chappell neutral over her statement on why she wont endorse kamala and that makes me particularly angry because she is ANYTHING but neutral.

these ↓ are not neutral statements

she did not tell people they shouldn’t vote, and a lot of her fanbase already knows the danger they are in so of course they’re going to vote. She’s standing for what she believes is right, and she’s not just sitting around either, shes making active donations to palestine and advocating for queer and trans people. She’s telling yall to use your critical thinking skills and yall are in fact not using your critical thinking skills. Her acknowledging problems on both sides is not her saying we should just give up! shes acknowledging an important issue and standing by her values and morals. I live in the south, i understand very well how politics effect queer people here and i know that my fellow southern queens understand that as well so we already know that in order to protect our rights we have to VOTE. Not only do i live in the south but i’m a trans person myself and ive seen a lotta people saying she doesn’t actually care about trans people, and i couldn’t disagree more. She has spoken more about trans people than ive seen in my entire lifetime. She stands for us, she talks about us, she dedicated her award to queer and trans people, she honors us and if she doesn’t care about trans people then yall need to take a look at a lot of the other artists or celebrities that yall stan. There are much worse people to focus on in the celebrity world right now, open zionists and transphobes and yall are out here ganging up on chappell roan out of all people. And as ive seen some people say, if you’re relying on celebrities to tell you who to vote for then you need to do some revaluation.

credit ↓

————————————————————————

#chappell roan #politics #us politics #chappell #chappellsource #lgbtqia #lgbt pride #lgbtq community #transgender #trans #trans pride #trans rights #queer community #queer #lesbian

96 notes · View notes

ghostboneswrites2 · 9 months ago

Note

Hello! First of all I love your stories so much💖 and hope you're having an amazing day. I wanted to ask if you could write something with this, feel free to decline if not 😊

I have this idea of Daryl and the reader being a thing before the apocalypse, Merle hated his girl and left her closed in a place with loads of walkers around without D knowing(something similar to what happens to him in Atlanta) but she manages to escape and survive thanks to what D has taught her. The group at the prison helps her after finding her tiredly fighting some walkers close to there. D and M are in the woods and the scene of D's back comes and says that the reader was his saviour for staying with him even after that and that they were planning to escape and get married. They arrive at the prison and she punches M in the face and well says to D everything that happened. M gets to see how D gets around Reader and before leaving the prison says to reader to take care of his bro and "sacrifices" himself going to fight the governor, D and r found him already turned and they both cry, promising to take care of each other.

I love the detail here! Plz forgive me, this turned out way longer than I intended. Nearly 5k words! I hope I did your vision justice! It was getting pretty long so I had to cut and tweak some things but I tried make sure to include all your key details!

Separated

Summary: You and the Dixon brothers are on your way to Atlanta to find that refugee center you heard about on the radio before they stopped broadcasting. When your journey is interrupted and you and Merle get separated from Daryl, Merle impulsively leaves you trapped and stranded in fear Daryl would choose you over him if it came down to it. When you're reunited with your love, you face tragedy together.

Note: There are some time jumps here. They're labeled to hopefully avoid confusion. Also some canon dialogue <3 A lot of your backstory with the Dixons wasn't totally necessary but I was trying to create a ~vibe~

18+ MDNI || Warnings: profanity, TWD typical violence, canonically moral deficient character, death and dying, mentions of alcohol and pills

the way he cowers and shrinks away from Merle's walker makes me cry every time omg

Then:

Things went south so fast. The three of you were traveling relatively trouble free. The guys could hunt, and Daryl had taught you a thing or two yourself, so food was never an issue. Finding water wasn't as hard as it would be later down the line. All the supplies left in homes and stores hadn't been completely ransacked yet. It was the beginning of the outbreak. With Merle's truck, Daryl's bike, some weapons and supplies, and the general survival skills you were learning from the two of them, fleeing to the city to find that refugee center had been as easy as something like that could get, until the water ran out.

It should have been an easy pit stop. The town was small. Your grandma would have called it a 'blink of an eye' town, because when you passed towns so small on a trip they'd fly by in the blink of an eye. There was a general store right on the corner, so that was where you decided to start the search. Just some water, maybe first aide and booze. Who knew what you'd find? The truck was parked right outside the store. Daryl wanted a smoke. He said he'd meet you and Merle inside. Then the growls started. Daryl could hear them from a distance, so he knew it was a big herd.

None of you had had much trouble with the big groups of them yet. So far, maybe ten or fifteen at a time. You killed the ones that got too close and fled as fast as you could. No unnecessary risks, that was the rule. Merle always said if he died it would be from something cool like a police shootout or a bank robbery. He refused to go out the way those things took people out. Daryl always said he'd shoot himself before he let them get the chance to eat him alive or turn him. He'd never be a walking corpse. You? Daryl always said you were too pretty to die. You just said you were too much of a badass.

Daryl popped his head inside. There were only two freaks inside and they were easy enough to take down, so you and Merle were just looting by then.

"Incoming. We gotta head out." Daryl announced.

"Just a second, baby brother. I'm lookin' for the whiskey." Merle said.

"Ain't got time for that. I can hear 'em comin'." Daryl insisted. You zipped your bag up with everything you had found so far, including the water, and walked toward your broody boyfriend with a half smile.

"There were exactly three waters left. How's that for good luck?" You said to him.

"Why'd'ya think I keep ya 'round? You're my good luck charm." He winked before slapping the window to get Merle's attention. "C'mon, man! No unnecessary risks!"

You slipped past Daryl and stepped outside, throwing your bag in the bed of the truck. You could hear the moans and groans. You turned your attention in the direction of the noise and you could see the heads peeking up over a hill. Your eyes grew wide as your heart sped up.

"Uh... Guys? We gotta go!" You called out, not taking your eyes off the herd that was slowly coming into view. You had never seen so many of them.

"Merle, come on!" Daryl was growing more aggravated and impatient as the seconds ticked by.

Daryl jogged back to the truck just as Merle was emerging from the little shop. With no sense of urgency in sight, Merle just looked over the bottle of Jack he had found as he casually strolled over to the driver's side. You scooted into the middle seat and Daryl hopped in the passenger spot and slammed his door shut.

"Hurry up, man!" Daryl urged his brother.

Merle grumbled some smartass remark about being afraid of 'a few dead bodies' as he cranked the engine and hit the gas, speeding away.

Now

You were so sore. So exhausted. So ready to just give in, but you couldn't. You refused to give in that easy. Someone told you once that you were too pretty to die, and you took that to heart.

You kept swinging your machete at them as they closed in on you. You were cornered between a building and a fence. What the hell were you supposed to do now? You had no idea, but you were determined to figure it out. You had gotten yourself out of worse situations.

Then

"Gon' have to circle back somewhere to get back on the interstate." Daryl informed, looking at the map.

"I don't need a second driver." Merle waved him off. You rolled your eyes. You were glad to be surviving something so scary with the man you loved, but the third wheel was getting hard to live with.

"Whatever, man." Daryl huffed, turning his attention to the window instead of paying his brother any mind.

You kept your attention on the rearview mirror, relieved to see the herd fading away as the truck rolled forward. Those things really freaked you out, especially when they were all together like that, stumbling and bumping into each other carelessly.

A mile or so down the road, you heard a loud pop and the engine started to sputter. "Ah, hell." Merle sighed.

"What?" Daryl asked, leaning forward to see his brother.

"Gas is empty." He replied, looking down at the dash.

"Are you kiddin' me?" Daryl asked incredulously. "Ya didn't think to check before?"

"I did check, but I thought we'd be back on the interstate by now. Plenty o' cars to siphon a li'l fuel from back there." Merle defended.

"Hate to raise the stakes even higher here," you interrupted. "But, that herd is gonna be catching up soon, so we need to figure something out."

Merle shot you a sideways glance. If it was up to him he would have just left you back home and fled with his brother, but Daryl insisted on picking you up. Now, he couldn't even hop on his bike with his baby brother and sail away to safety because there wouldn't be room for you and Daryl would never agree. He wasn't the greatest brother, but he wouldn't leave Daryl behind either.

"Wha's that?" Daryl suddenly asked, breaking the tense silence as the three of you considered your pressing circumstances.

You both turned your attention to what the archer was pointing out. Just beyond the treeline was a small wooden structure. Some kind of shack.

"A house?" You wondered.

"Nah. Shed or somethin'." Daryl figured.

"Maybe we can hide there and let the freaks pass by. They're pretty stupid, right? Maybe they'll just keep going straight if we don't draw their attention." You suggested.

"Won't even know we're there." Daryl agreed.

"Well then let's quit the yappin' and get over there before they see us." Merle drawled as he pushed his door open. Daryl got out and offered you a hand while you stepped out of the truck. Your posh parents never liked him much, but they never saw what a gentlemen he could really be. You had cut ties with them long before the dead started roaming.

Now

You were beginning to think maybe this was really the end. It really wasn't that many. Seven at the most. But you were just so tired. You lazily swung the blade into a skull and struggled to yank it out. You had climbed on top of a dumpster, so at least they couldn't reach you, but you were still trapped until you could get rid of them. You wondered how stupid it would be to take a quick nap. Surely one of them would reach you eventually. You decided against it.

Then

Without any spoken agreement, the three of you grabbed any supplies you thought you'd need and jogged over to the dilapidated structure. It was vacant and smelled faintly of mildew and rotting wood.

"It'll do." Merle sighed.

"Do? This is a mansion compared to the truck." You remarked, stretching your body. You were stiff from so much sitting.

The three of you watched silently through the cracks in the door as the herd stumbled by with their swinging arms and dragging feet. The smell was something you couldn't get used to, and with so many of them, it was strong. You gagged quietly. Daryl rubbed a hand up and down your back when he noticed.

The three of you really thought you were fine. You outsmarted the dead ones and soon you'd be on your way again. You had never been so wrong about anything before.

Merle got a little too comfortable given the situation. He went and dug through his duffel for his whiskey. He had been drinking so much you wondered if his piss could get someone drunk. The entire time you'd been on the road with them, the man had managed to find liquor everywhere he went. There wasn't a single day he hadn't been drunk, and if there had been, you were sure he'd have a stash of pills to keep him feeling nice. You guessed you couldn't blame him. Shit was rough nowadays.

When Merle found the bottle he dropped it and it shattered. After giving Merle a look that could kill, Daryl turned his attention back to the herd. A few of them were veering off. The sound had caught their attention. Only a few heard, but as they started walking toward the shed, more followed.

"Shit." You whispered.

"This place ain't gon' hold." Daryl added.

"My Jack." Merle complained.

"Hell with your booze, man." Daryl scoffed as some of the dead started to claw at the outside. "We gotta go."

"Go where, baby brother?"

"We could take down the few that are at the door and break for the truck." You thought.

"Nah, too many on the road. But we can run off that way." Daryl nodded toward the back of the shed.

"Okay." You nodded, throwing your bag over your shoulders and readying your machete.

Merle haphazardly hooked his duffel and cocked his pistol.

"No guns. Too loud." Daryl reminded him.

"Relax. It's a last resort." Daryl shrugged, tucking it unto his belt. With a nod to each other, you and Daryl kicked the door open and took down two walkers. Merle was right behind you.

Now

Tires screeched from ahead. You looked up and saw a car. A woman and a man got out of the vehicle and rushed over, taking down the walkers with ease and precision. Gee, you thought. Bet it's nice to have someone that has your back.

The couple walked over to the dumpster and eyed you cautiously, glancing at each other. "You okay?" The man finally asked.

"Could use an espresso." You quipped.

"What's your name?" The woman inquired.

"(Y/N)."

"I'm Maggie." She introduced. "This is Glenn."

Then

Only using your energy on the ones closest, the three of you darted deeper into the woods. They followed, because they saw you and now they wanted you.

Only, there were more in the trees than you anticipated. Usually the woods were pretty clear save for a few stragglers here and there. These woods were not. You wondered why, but there was no time to guess. You just kept running.

Eventually there were just too many. Daryl got pushed further and further away as more and more emerged from behind trees. When you realized you couldn't see him anymore you called for him.

"Quiet girl! He can take care o' himself. You're drawin' more to us!" Merle hissed. You reluctantly obeyed, because you knew he was right. Daryl probably evaded them somewhere and would meet you both back at the truck.

When the running began to take its toll and your chest started to burn, you put more of a focus on searching for somewhere to hide. To your advantage, there was an overgrown cabin not too far ahead. erle peered over his shoulder.

"We're losin' em. Let's get inside an' wait 'em out. Daryl 'll meet us back at the truck when it passes." He strategized well for his inebriated state.

"Okay." You breathed, just grateful for a chance to stop and rest.

Now

"Need some help? Maggie asked, offering you a hand as you slid off the edge of the dumpster.

"Thanks."

"You have a group?" Glenn wondered. Maggie gave him an unsure look. You noticed Glenn looked pretty beat up. You wondered what happened.

"No." You said lowly. You did have people, but you were left behind.

"Well.." Glenn trailed off, looking to Maggie as if to silently ask what they should do with you.

"You can come with us. Can't promise you can stay though." She spoke up.

Then

The cabin had been vacant for a long time. Some of the old dusty furniture remained so you both sat down and just breathed. You handed him a water bottle and sipped on one for yourself while you waited. It felt like hours had gone by. It had grown dark out. Merle peeked out of the window. There were a bunch of them all around, but they had no idea the two of you were in there. It seemed like they lost their lead and just stopped, staggering around in the same spot.

"There's a lot of 'em, but they ain't payin' attention. I say we leave out the back an' sneak back toward the road." Merle suggested. You thought for a second.

"Yeah," you nodded. "Okay."

Just as you passed it by, Merle suddenly shoved you in a closet and shut it behind you.

"Merle, what the fuck, man?" You complained, banging at the door. It wouldn't budge.

"Quiet, now. Don't wanna draw in any unwanted attention." He taunted. You sighed.

"Merle, c'mon this isn't funny."

"'Fraid it ain't a joke, Darlin. Truck's outta gas an' my bike only carries two."

Your heart sank.

"Daryl isn't just gonna leave without me." You reminded.

"He won't have a choice when I tell 'im 'bout how them dead ones took ya down." He mockingly lamented. "It was just terrible, ya know? They grabbed her. I couldn't pull'er away in time before they got to chompin'."

"The hell, dude? Don't do this!" You begged, banging at the door again.

"Look. Ya got your bag in there, got your weapon, got your wits. You'll figure it out." He reasoned.

"Not if I'm trapped!"

"I'm sure you can kick that slab o' wood down if ya try hard enough." He was getting further away by the sounds of it. "Jus' try not to be too loud. Don't want 'em hearin' ya."

Now

"I'd be grateful." You admitted. "I haven't had anywhere to rest in a while. I have some medicine here I'd be happy to share in exchange for a good night of rest."

"Watcha got?" Maggie asked.

"We actually came out her for medicine." Glenn added.

"Some antibiotics, some Benadryl, some stuff for pain. Oh, and I found an EpiPen. I'm allergic to bees, so."

"Antibiotics is what we need." Maggie said.

"Yeah, whatever you need. Thanks again."

They still hit a few stores while you rested in their car. Maggie made sure to grab the keys just in case you tried anything, but you were too tired to try even if you wanted to. When they had found everything they thought they'd need for the prison, they drove you back. Rick and the others were apprehensive, with everything happening with Woodbury and recently losing one of their best fighters. Daryl was also their hunter, their tracker, and generally someone they all relied on.

You explained to them that you were traveling with some people to Atlanta but they left you behind and you'd been on the move ever since. "I'd be glad to sleep outside if it makes you more comfortable." You said to Rick. "I can leave in the morning. I just really need somewhere to sleep."

Rick studied you for an uncomfortably long time before he asked, "How many walkers have you killed?"

"Walkers?" You asked. You'd never heard that term before.

"The dead." He clarified.

"Oh... I don't know, really. A lot."

"How many people have you killed?"

"None." You said honestly. "But there is one person I might beat to death if I ever see him again."

"Why?"

"He left me stranded, surrounded by the dead."

The Next Morning

Rick let you sleep in a separate cell block. He let you know you'd be locked in for a the night but that he'd come get you in the morning to talk. You didn't really care. You just wanted rest.

When he came and got you that morning you were offered a warm meal, which you gladly accepted. You made sure to give them the majority of your antibiotics as a show of gratitude.

Meanwhile, deep in the woods, two rednecks were hashing it out. Name calling, shoving, whatever it took to unleash all the pent up frustrations they had between each other.

See, in all that time Daryl spent with Rick and their group, he began to find a side of himself that was suppressed with his brother around. The only person to ever make him believe he could be good was taken from him before they made it to the quarry. Merle, on the other hand, only represented everything that Daryl was trying to put behind him. Merle was capable of hurting good people or looking the other way instead of helping someone in danger. If only Daryl knew some of the things Merle had really done.

"There was a baby!" Daryl defended as Merle laid into him for risking his own ass to save a family on a bridge.

"Oh, otherwise ya woulda just left 'em to the biters." Merle retorted.

"Man, I went back for ya. Ya weren't there. I didn't cut off your hand, neither. You did that. Way before they locked you up on that roof. You asked for it."

"You know what's funny to me? Hmm? You and Sheriff Rick are like this now." Merle said, locking his two fingers together. "I bet you a penny and a fiddle o' gold you never told him that we were plannin' on robbin' that camp blind."

"It didn't happen!" Daryl snapped. "And we woulda never had to if ya didn't let the truck run out o' gas! And my girlfriend wouldn't be dead!" Daryl's chest was heaving as his eyes stung, threatening to spill fresh tears at the thought of her. Merles eyes flashed something Daryl couldn't quite decipher.

"It didn't happen 'cause I wasn't there to help you!"

"When we were kids.. Who left who then, huh?" Daryl frowned.

"What? Huh, is that why I lost my hand?" Merle rasped.

"You lost your hand 'cause you're a simple-minded piece o' shit!"

"Yeah?!" Merle lost it. He grabbed Daryl by the shirt. "You don't know!"

When Daryl fell to the ground, his shirt ripped down the back. Merle froze. His chest felt tight as he stared down at the gruesome scene left on Daryl's back from years of abuse at the hands of their father. "I -- I didn't know --"

"Yeah, ya did." Daryl's voice cracked as he pushed himself to his feet. "That's why ya left. But (Y/N), she never left. She was always there, man. Always. She was the one who saved me. She protected me. Not you, man!" He wiped a tear as he took a breath between heated words. "We were gon' run away, gon' get the hell outta that town and get married, maybe start a family. I don't know, and I never will thanks to you!"

He did blame his big brother for the loss of his love, but not in the way that he should have. He blamed Merle's clumsiness, carelessness, and negligence. He had no idea that Merle trapped and abandoned you.

Later

Daryl went back home to the prison. Merle couldn't stand too watch him leave, so he followed. Guilt was starting to eat at him, gnawing away at his insides, mouthfuls at a time. He almost felt nauseous hearing about you and what Daryl had planned with you. He tried to imagine his battered baby brother in a nice little house with a wife and kids. Hell, he even tried to picture it for himself, but the image wasn't clear enough for it to seem possible. All either of them had ever known was violence and loneliness. That was why they needed each other. That was why he had to get rid of you.

You had just finished a tour of the prison. Rick told you that you could stay for a while, but he didn't know if he trusted you as one of them. He shared a little about a rival community with a crazed leader. You understood. You never expected to stick around, even if they offered. You couldn't see yourself trusting anyone after what Merle did to you.

You were sitting in the cell you slept in the night before, sharpening your machete and thinking about the things that you couldn't change. You heard distant voices echoing from the other block. It was some sort of confrontation from the sound of it. You snuck over to the cellblock where everyone stayed and peeked around a corner. Glenn and Maggie were blocking most of your view, but they seemed to be the most pissed off. Rick was off to the side trying to mediate.

"You can't let him stay. Not after what he did to Glenn!" Maggie demanded.

"He goes, I go."

You stopped breathing. That voice sent chills up and down your spine.

"Okay." Rick held his hand out, attempting to set forward a solution but the room fell silent as you stepped into view. Merle noticed you first. He looked like he had seen a ghost.

"Well, I'll shit bricks." He murmured in disbelief.

"(Y/N)?" Daryl breathed, almost inaudibly. Your eyes were welling with tears as you stood just feet away from the man you loved.

Daryl dropped everything and ran over to you, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you up. You couldn't even hug him back because your arms were trapped under his. All you could do was let out something between a giggle and sob.

"Daryl." You whispered. Your body felt so perfect against his, just how he remembered. Then, it dawned on him. He set you down and turned to look at Merle, a blend of betrayal and fury flooding his eyes.

"You said she was dead!" Daryl growled.

As everyone around you watched the scene before them unfold, they felt clueless. Daryl had never mentioned you because it hurt too much to bring up. Your feet began moving before you could even think. One second you were standing beside Daryl, then you blinked and you were inches away from Merle, rearing your fist back and striking his jaw with a force you didn't even know you were capable of. Merle stumbled and dropped to the ground holding his face. He moved his jaw around a little before he glared up at you.

"Okay. I deserved that." He accepted.

"Yeah, you did." You spat.

"Hold on. Someone care to explain what the hell's goin' on here?" Rick spoke out.

You turned to Daryl, as if it was he who answered the question. You didn't care to share with the class. Daryl needed to know.

"When we got separated in the woods.." You began, taking a breath. "Merle and I found a cabin. We hid there, waited for shit to blow over, and we were supposed to meet you back at the ruck. Merle figured you'd wait for us there."

"And I left her." Merle admitted from behind you. You glanced back at him momentarily. You were surprised at his accountability.

"In a closet." You added spitefully. "The place was surrounded. Took me forever to get out of there and even longer to get back to the truck. By then, you two and the bike were gone."

Daryl's nostrils flared with rage. His fists were balled up so tight his knuckles turned white against his tan skin. His shoulders rose and fell with each heavy breath he took. He was so pissed, so hurt. The weight of the revelation had weighed him down so heavily that his boots felt like they were nailed to the ground. Otherwise, he would have lunged at his brother and beaten the teeth out of his skull. All that time Daryl spent in pain, mourning the loss of someone who wasn't gone. All because his brother didn't like her.

"Why." Daryl growled.

"The bike only fit two, man."

That Night

You sighed contently as Daryl traced little circles over your shoulder. Once it was decided to leave Merle in a cell, and everything had been explained to Rick, you and Daryl retired to his own cell to enjoy your reunion in private. He was laying on the bottom bunk, one foot crossed over the other as he stared into space, enjoying the feeling of your head on his chest and your arm and leg draped over him.

"I missed you." You whispered, breaking a long, comfortable silence.

"Mm." He hummed. "I mourned ya every day. I shoulda gone back."

"Don't do that. We're together now. Don't blame yourself."

"Shoulda never believed 'im. I knew how jealous he was. Thought he'd get over it." He confessed. You smiled softly and nuzzled up closer, taking in a whiff of his sweaty scent.

"Me too." You agreed. "But he left me with my bag. He didn't want me to die. I think he was afraid if only two of us fit on the bike you'd leave him behind."

"Nah. Woulda had your sweet ass ride the handlebars." He teased, twirling a finger through your hair. You giggled, then you paused.

"Wow. I think that's the first time I've laughed since we got split up." You realized.

"Sure ya didn't find no boyfriends along the way?" He joked. He always did that when things felt too heavy between the two of you. You rolled your eyes, not that he could see it.

"You say that like I've had a lot of those. We've been together since we were like, twenty." You laughed.

The Next Day

Merle and Michonne had disappeared. You learned that the leader of the opposing community -- the Governor, as they called him -- wanted Michonne in exchange for peace, but Rick refused. Merle had likely taken her as a peace offering since he knew what the Governor was capable of.

You and Daryl left to search for him. He took you to a spot where they had previously convened for negotiation. The two of you did a brief sweep of the area before stumbling across some walkers. You each took one down after another until you were left with only one. You froze when you registered what -- or who -- it was.

A sob immediately escaped Daryl as he fell backwards. You blinked back tears as you crouched down behind him and pulled him against you, rocking gently as Daryl wept. Merle's dead body clumsily pushed itself off the ground and onto its feet. You stood first, hoping to put it down before Daryl had to do it himself, but Daryl was quick to push past you. He violently shoved the corpse. It sumbled back, but it walked toward him again. Over and over Daryl shoved what was left of his brother as he cried. Tears were freeling spinning down your cheeks.

When Merle's body fell on its back, Daryl crawled on top of it and plunged his knife into its skull over and over and over until he collapsed.

You wanted to intervene, to console, to be his rock, but something told you to let him get it out. He needed to. So, you waited until Daryl's blind rage simmered down and placed an assuring hand on his shoulder.

"Wanna bury him?" You whispered.

Daryl shook his head.

"Okay." You relented. You glanced around your surroundings and noticed a patch of wildflowers off in the distance. "I'll be right back." You squeezed him gently before jogging over and gathering each and every flower in the patch. When you walked back over to where Daryl was hunched over Merle, he looked up at you with wet, red eyes. When he clocked the flowers, he gave a single nod and stood up beside you. You split the flowers in half and handed Daryl a bundle. The two of you placed them each individually around Merle's corpse.

You thought back to a conversation you had with Merle the night before, when you couldn't sleep and went out of the cell to get some water.

"Take care of my baby brother, will ya?" Merle's voice echoed through the quiet block.

"I always have."

"We'll take care of each other." Your vice cracked as you spoke. "Promise."

"Promise." Daryl whispered.

Join the taglist! || Masterlist

tags: @kissmeunicornbaobei @thesadcatt0 @clairealeehelsing @duckybird101 @tmntfixationxreader @ryoujoking @blackvelveteen1339 @yondus-girl @ladylincoln @sunshinebug9 @saylum559 @yoowhatthefuck @duffmckagansbandana @celtic-crossbow

#daryl x reader #daryl dixon #twd daryl #daryl x female reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl x y/n #daryl x you #daryl dixon fanfic #the walking dead daryl #daryl twd

245 notes · View notes