#they sent me One email reminder and it wasn’t even like a warning | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gojonanami · 4 months

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❝ 𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐒 !! ❞

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or of you.

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

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

Not yet at least.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Even when it was used against him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Used to give him.

And he lets the water overtake him.

~~~

“You forgot your lunch,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you were.

Right?

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he did.

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

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

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

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

It was enough, for now.

~~~

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

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

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

But only if you let it.

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

But now it couldn’t wait.

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

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

But it doesn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

And so he was here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He furrows his brow, “I am slee—“

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—For now at least.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another message comes through.

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean it was expected?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You knit your brow together, “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you, Professor.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

RING. RING. RING.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But when would it be?

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

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

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

You shouldn’t have agreed to this.

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

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

Literally.

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

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

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

You purse your lips — Satoru?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re not just—“

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

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

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

There was something wrong with him.

But there always was — when it came to you.

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

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

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

But he couldn’t.

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

Something he wasn’t sure he could ever do.

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

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

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

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

“Yes, come in,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he never would again.

BUZZ. BUZZ. BUZZ.

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

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

For the rest of his days.

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

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

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

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

He didn’t want to think about other possibilities.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, but he could ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Even if it wasn’t him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“See you soon, baby.”

For now.

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

Of course.

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

And still so hard.

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

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

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

No, you didn’t need to see that.

But you didn’t know why.

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

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

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

But would you ever be done with him?

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

Apparently you would never be.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Me too,”

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

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

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

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

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

What?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

RING. RING. RING.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Would you say yes if it was Geto asking?

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

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

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

He could only hope you wouldn’t drop it.

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

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

Fuck.

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

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

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

Double fuck.

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

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

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

And that wasn’t the right question to ask.

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

His hand never leaves yours.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No. It wasn’t that.

It wasn’t. Not if you let it be.

“I’m sorry,”

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

There was only silence.

Until you spoke first.

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

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

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

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

But that wasn’t what you were apologizing for.

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

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

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

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

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

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

One you couldn’t stoke.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Even if you were ready to go.

You barely remembered what you said.

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

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

Your eyes slide to him again — no one else.

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

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

So you begin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he breaks it first.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And you wouldn’t?” And he shrugs.

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

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

But he knew the words.

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

And he would. He did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So why did it hurt so much?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yuta, what? What’s—“

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

You don’t have words.

No, you have one word.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“yuta—“

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

“That’s not—“

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

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

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

“Of course—“

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

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

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

“Love doesn’t always have to—“

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

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

But you can’t.

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

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

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

“I know. I love you too.”

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

Not for either of you.

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

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

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

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

“You’re still mine too.”

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

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

You were still in love with Suguru.

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

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

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

“Hello?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blink, “Professor Yaga—“

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

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

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

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

Not that he was craving company.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come in,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bullied into it was more like it,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sweetheart—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

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

And he can’t hold back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And yet, why did that thought also hurt?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Always, for you.”

Yuta knew it was for the best.

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

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

It was for the best.

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

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

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

His future.

A few months later.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really? We can—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And now he just needed to know yours.

END.

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

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

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

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

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satoruhour · 1 year

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a/n: uururgghghh im starting to struggle to write i swear the next one will be a fluff one. pt.2 to this

warnings: long piece, sugar daddy!au, discussions of kinks including daddy kink, filming, cockwarming, creampies / breeding kink, public sex, exhibitionism, oral (f and m receiving), phone sex, fingering, cumshots, praise, somnophilia, handjobs, size kink, lingerie, let me know if i missed anything, n*sfw under the cut

✶ NANAMI

nanami is an interesting sugar daddy. he thinks it’s bc the opportunity came so randomly that he didn’t know what to do, so he’s new to this as you’re new to him, not expecting the man to show up when you had sent a drunk email to a craigslist listing

it was amusing seeing your email, but he could tell there was at least a bit of need for some monetary assistance when u sent it in because yes, you were drunk but also the type of honest drunk that reminded him of a certain friend… you literally spelt it all out for nanami in the email

and you explicitly remember sinking into your hands when you listened to your friend to go ahead with the meeting and nanami’s small amused smile, knowing way more things about you on your first meeting just from the message

you’re nanami’s first sugar baby, so tbh he doesnt know what to expect, but if he were to actually choose, he wouldnt want a sugar baby, like geto, who is too used to being indulged and spoiled. he needs gratitude or a thank you when he buys you things and he’s okay if youre picky, just not too bc then it’s like impossible to please you

he reluctantly asks gojo about it later on and he is so annoying while explaining to nanami about sugar babies and stuff, but gojo made some pretty good points, shoving a picture of his own sugar baby into nanami’s face with a laugh and then nanami immediately leaves LMFAO

i’d say nanami is pretty lenient though, just strict about what you spend money on sometimes. like if you’re buying a 2024 diary for you to journal, he’s just going to stare at you because he KNOWS you will not keep that journal up lol (sorry to the those who like to journal ahhdhfner)

or like buying those weird expensive snacks with new, experimental flavours only for it to taste like shit and nanami has to gulp down two glasses of water after eating a bbq flavoured chocolate bar

ok im aware this would work even if he wasn’t ur sugar daddy but just pretend

nanami learns the ins and outs for caring about a sugar baby pretty fast, wiring you an allowance everyday and bringing you to events occasionally, but more importantly figuring out your boundaries and how this relationship would go about

it started off purely transactional at first, but then he starts to imagine meeting up more with you, taking you places. it happens against his will for him bc he’s seen these types of relationships fall apart, and he hates opening up to ppl in the first place. but then one day you’re telling him youre meeting with someone from university and he gets so annoyed the next time you meet up

turns out you were hoping he’d do something about it, and he did

like gojo, he wants to be a good boyfriend as he is being your sugar daddy

although he’s very stoic, you know he cares for you when he does small things like buying you the right kinds of pads, paying silently for the dinner when he goes to the “toilet”, finding jobs with you because he doesnt mind if you want to earn ur own money, occasionally buying you little things he finds in high-end stores that are not clothes that reminds him of you.

he doesn’t mind the minor dent in his account after treating you, bc he knows you’re content with already needing money for university. the extra gifts are just a bonus and it warms your heart when he does all these small things

gives you money like semi-often!! he knows you dont spend it impulsively so he spreads out the times he gives you your allowance

being his sugar baby is sooo classy like you have gotten so many tight black dresses for events that sometimes you cant find things to wear to the grocery store

goes ALL out for anniversaries always, buying you matching necklaces where he takes the other half, bouquets of flowers, that pair of earrings you were looking at the storefront

oh yea he’s always buying you bouquets, you have no idea where to put them

he’s better with larger, wearable gifts as opposed to gojo’s type of small trinket gift giving, but just like gojo he also loves getting you an initial necklace, but just for the sole purpose of showing that you belong to him. it’s cute, he finds himself staring at the N.K. on your neck every time you meet up

nanami loves his suits, but he is TERRIBLE at dressing out of them. mismatched patterns, ugly ass shoes, please save him

he lets you drag him to buy some clothes for him but whatever he swears he just looks like a grandpa. maybe it’s bc of his light coloured hair

very good at giving pointers for your style tho, so he smiles when he sees you pick a dress bc he said so, a hand dipping down to your ass to squeeze briefly

loves when you visit him in the office whenever you have no classes for the day, a cute sundress on as you bring his lunch like a cute lil wife.

he values privacy a lot and doesnt like to open up at times, so it takes a while for him to properly let you in in his insecurities and doubts. it happens at first when you realise nanami doesnt call you the various pet names he does when around ppl he knows and you bring it up and it escalated into a whole argument

you were just so close to leaving to give him his space but then he starts slowly about having people leave him before and he doesnt want to mess this shit up again. he feels you deserve better, but you told him he is better

with that, u were able to deepen ur bond, but also it allowed nanami to allow a person in his life again, letting your things take over his bathroom space and living room

the first time he considers buying a ring is when you hang off his arm and interact kindly with his clients and fellow CEOs, ignoring the strange pull of his heart. it’s like you understand the importance of

these events, and even though through knowing you and how you didnt exactly favour crowded places, you still put yourself through it

you have to catch your breath later in the bathroom and nanami’s outside, worried as hell and you tell him youre fine, but he’s not having it so u roll your eyes and exit the bathroom, shocked to see his usually calm face turned into an expression of anxiety

he says that you both will leave immediately and you protest but all he does is shake his head and drive you back. needless to say you had so much more fun watching stupid romcoms and cuddling until youre waking up in the morning to something poking you in the back and there’s this adorable flush that overcomes nanami’s cheeks lol

n*sfw hc’s below

doesnt like to jerk off normally. if he does it’s usually morning wood or after seeing a beautiful woman but he just. doesnt get those desires and the need for release. that doesnt mean hes not good at sex or whatever. hes had his days during uni and stuff, but ever since he’s started work it’s been so busy he really has no time whatsoever

sex life with nanami is sweet yet unpredictable. youve always started out slow and sensual mainly because he doesnt want to hurt you or go too roughly but one day youre bringing up how to make ur sex life more exciting and he went “i couldve done this the whole time?”

you had the best night of your life that night jus sayin!!!!

we have established this thru the fandom but nanami is a pleasure dom when it comes to you, not quite like geto who likes watching you do the work. nanami has to give you the pleasure himself

he’s eaten you out more times than youve fucked and he’s really done it everywhere. he has done it under the table when youre on a call for your class. he’s done it at event bathrooms, he’s done it at night in the park.

NOW. nanami is not big on public sex but then he sees you bend over during your picnic to catch the plastic bag and the wind blew up ur skirt and he saw ur cute little pussy under …. he couldnt resist it

likes the the possibility of getting caught, and it’s obvious you might because you r soooo wet every time he flicks at your clit

he only does it if he gets to eat you out, and if hes really needy, he’ll grant you a quickie but other than that he can hold himself back - plus you deserve better than to be bent over a bathroom sink

also loves breeding you, unprotected sex all da way. likes the way it seeps out of you and your shivers when you feel him fill you up. would get a vasectomy for you considering how much he looooves to cum deep in you

regarding the kinks you may have brought up to him it’s just hoping he’d be rougher, maybe even try some degradation, you even discussed he could use you when youre sleeping if he wanted to. other things include phone sex and the use of toys, but you mentioned that as long as you were both comfy there could always be a fun time

and bro loved it. u realise he’s only ever focused on praise on most days but when he’s stressed from work he always takes it out on you and you fuckin love it lol.

youve done it over the phone a few times but he thinks he prefers to do a video call better, but the first time he wanted to he didnt know how to switch the call from an audio to a video one and you had already came lmaoooo

you were giggling once nanami grumbled over the receiver, but you helped him easily just by talking bout how youd ride him or how youd suck his cock

10/10 that experience and being with you made him be more open to blowjobs more often, not that he didnt before! but hes always been putting you first that hes never thought much abt his own pleasure <3

warning for drabble: consensual somnophilia, no foreplay, mating press, nanami is a little rough, brief fingering and cunnilingus, clit stimulation, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink

nanami comes home to your sleeping figure, calm and even breaths leaving your person with a small smile on your face and all he can do is coo, running a hand up your thigh before preparing to carry you, not expecting that when you open your legs, he sees the centre of your pants harbouring a darker, wet spot, pussy lips pulled taunt from how tight your pants were.

and the man immediately chokes back a moan, remembering the conversation after he had used you to your limit on the kitchen counter, scratching on the smooth marble surface while your face was smushed up against the flat surface. with a little grin, you wished he let out his frustrations on you more, even when you were sleeping — and what better time now that his head was close to popping a vein with how incompetent his workers were?

a moan distracts nanami’s thoughts, and among the unintelligible noises you make, he can figure out how you’re probably dreaming, cock hardening once he hears that you w’nna be filled. that is enough reason for him to unbuckle his pants with a relieved sigh, the cold air on his length making him hiss as he peels his underwear off him, length hitting his torso from how hard he was.

“you don’t know what you do t’me, baby,” nanami mumbles, pumping his cock with slow strokes before swiping your pants to the side, lightheaded from just how wet you seem to be. he drags his cock along your folds, collecting your slick on his leaking tip that mixes with the pre-cum and he groans at how you seem to drip more just from that gesture, inching his fat cock into your pliant cunt without much trouble.

you’re so tight, sucking him in the moment he’s sheathed in you until he bottoms out and you’re whining louder now, still bordering on the line of consciousness and unconsciousness. you’re clenching around him so hard that he struggles to move, until he’s feeling you grasp his arm with fatigue in your eyes.

“use me, kento—” nanami grunts at those words, pulling out just to slam back into you and the slutty moan that leaves you cuts through your slumber because nanami’s deeper than he’s ever been in you. your eyes crack open at your boyfriend who’s currently fucking into you, hips moving at a speed faster usual and you cry out when his tip kisses your cervix just barely.

“feel so fuckin’ good, just let me use you like a cocksleeve, alright?” nanami groans out, taking your legs and pressing them to your chest and the change in position makes you whine, hitting your spots so well now that you’re in a mating press. from here nanami is hypnotised with the way your juices collect on his length, the squelching noises of your sopping cunt only fuelling him on. “who’s making you feel this good, baby?”

there’s tears that linger at your waterline, struggling to even get out a coherent sentence when you’re babbling incomplete sentences and nanami smiles at the drool leaving the corners of your mouth. “you— you a-are— oh my god!”

“rub your clit for me, doll,” nanami whispers out, already feeling his orgasm approaching from how snug you were around him, and the feeling of your fingers massaging languid circles into your clit makes him grunt, and soon after that nanami cums with a loud moan, so vulnerable in that moment that his deep voice goes up a pitch as he releases in you, hot cum spilling into your womb.

you mewl from the feeling but you’re left empty when he removes his cock and dips down to latch his mouth onto your clit, shoving his fingers into your gaping hole to keep you filled. nanami sucks on your bundle of nerves until you cum with a cry of his name, toes curling on his shoulder as your slick drips down his hand. “messy, messy baby,” nanami grins, popping his fingers into his mouth before he spreads your pussy, seeing the mixture of your cum and his leak out, “let’s get you cleaned up, hm?”

✶ TOJI

toji is an all rounded sugar daddy!!! boyfriend.. not so much he is a man who values work and does it well but he gets engrossed in it too much

preferences for a sugar baby vary bc theres a lot of factors involved. it’s not just one thing that he feels will dictate if he likes you as a sugar baby or not but the one important thing he doesnt like is when you dont pull your weight? if that makes sense

like not knowing what you want in life is perfectly fine but if youre just sitting on your ass and expecting money to come in it’s irksome to him, especially when hes worked his ass off to get to where he is today

he also likes it if you have a smart, snarky mouth. it amuses him seeing you flip the finger at him or tell some worker in his company off for commenting on your skimpy outfit

you two met in university. when he was younger he used to work as a professor, but now bc hes the CEO of a big company, he’s only able to handle adjunct jobs

basically he helped you out of a shitty house and stress from not having enough money, that causes you not to do your best in classes and he’s so glad he took a chance on you because he’s never seen you so bright before in class. but he couldnt stay much after taking over a CEO position, so he left in the middle of your second year

pleasantly surprised when he gets an email one day thanking him for the stuff he did for you, offers u a job at his company and from then on he says how he’d like to take care of you despite you finishing school

it also starts out as transactional but one day youre asking to meet in his office to ask why youre getting special treatment and youre telling him it’s not necessary when youre working for him now. “nonsense. i want to take care of you.”

his feelings slipped on a late night when he was working overtime and you stayed up too in order to see toji. you wouldnt admit to yourself but you liked him too. a little more than your usual crush bc ohhh lord have you seen his physique

and he comes out to see you still working and comes to annoy you and just gives you a fat stack of money out of nowhere??? hes bad with words ok

he says i mean it and waits for you to make the first move, but you dont and hes leaning forward to give you a soft kiss. ppl were confused as to why the lights of an office were still on at 3am while you were making out needily on his desk and he pulls insane orgasm after orgasm from you that day

hes a doting man, softened by the years of ageing but he works too much. it’s all he ever knows when you’re on his office couch begging him to go home.

will usually buy in lunch bc hes lazy to get it but sometimes youll cook and bring it to him too.

loves to treat you randomly, but theyre always gifts that you’re confused about bc he hasnt bought a gift for a woman in years so the first time he gifts you an air fryer (not sure why i have an obsession w/ air fryers lately) youre like ???? wtf am i supposed to do with this

and he tells you it’s u have easy access to lunch or dinner without leaving your dorms and youre like “honey i graduated already???” and he’s like oh. oh yea

poor guy did this to himself bc hes so deep in work so he doesnt see you often. he probsbly got mixed up with the days where he would meet you in between meetings and he just was there to accompany you on ur study sesh. he liked watching you study, and it would take a while for him to admit he’s actually liked you way before he offered you a job

toji gets better with giving gifts i swear. and he does it, he lovesss to order things and make the delivery man walk up to your desk with a dior box full of clothing

but sometimes he wishes he could do something more meaningful. he likes to give you SIMPLE handmade gifts. sometimes he gets so frustrated bc his fingers r so big so theyre usually easy to complete things. they’re not like of milestones or memories or photos though, more of silly things like paper rings or a paper fortune teller.

writes. a lot, more than geto. he writes more than makes gifts, and his handwriting is so messy sometimes you dont know what hes saying, but he finds that words on paper is much easier for him than voicing it out (this makes me want to write this me thinks)

so you spend a whole afternoon trying to make out what he’s saying like a detective and when sleep catches up to you he can only smile at your deciphering questions like u were trying to solve a cipher and writes you almost got this line right lolol

looks really good in suits but needs to go shopping often bc sometimes he works out too hard and his shoulders grow again at this point he should continually donate his blazers to thrift stores

sometimes he gives them to you as a jacket of some sort and he tries not to twitch from how small u look in them. the attraction goes both ways, and he wants to cuddle you up and also fuck you silly in it

always wearing that tight shirt of his that never rlly fits him. kinda mediocre and repetitive fit — he’s not exactly interested in fashion

loves to treat you to things. loves to spoil you and see you wearing the things he bought for you, but theyre more casual clothes that he spoils you with. man likes one (1) dress and he’s hoping you wear that dress of the rest of your life lol

toji buys you lingerie just to rip it. i swear :/ youre like that was the last one on the rack!!!! and hes just “ill just commission the designer to make another” like you can do that

and he says im actually not sure. oh speaking of commissions he loves to pay for custom pieces or clothing for you. he knows what he wants for you, and he backs off if you dont like it but seeing something he envisioned on your beautiful body — he just loves it

i said at the start that toji’s not that much of a boyfriend but he tries a lot. you can see he’s trying his best to make time for you in between work but it just. doesnt happen unfortunately. he works on the weekends too so sometimes your dates are compromised

youve thought before if it were to return to it being a platonic arrangement but it hurts your heart to think of that after everything youve been through. but this has been a recurring thing that’s been happening, brought up frequently in arguments as well

it was when he had a business trip on the week of your anniversary that the nail finally hit and youre bringing it up again and he knew he couldnt escape it this time bc you were close to crying when usually you dont. does this shit mean nothing to you? did you offer to pay everything for me just to throw me to the side like you always do?

the moment you see he has nothing to say bc he knows it’s true, youre leaving to get some air and it’s the first time he really understands that he wants to keep you for life that he’s making arrangements to give everyone a raise so theyd work better. and then hes taking time off work for a week

he’s still waiting worriedly for you late at night and your friend just gives toji an unimpressed look and gives you to him, breath laced with alcohol and obvious tear stains on your cheeks and he wants to die bc he was the cause of that

he feels so guilty but for now he kisses your forehead and gets you into a clean set of clothes before laying beside you to hug you close to him. in the morning youre hungover and feel like shit and youre letting toji pat your back and giving you a warm cup of water until you’re going arent you supposed to be at work????? and your boyfriend sighs and brings you into his lap, apologising into your neck as he hugs you

toji admits he hasnt been the best and is willing to do whatever it takes for you to be convinced again and you just stay like that, exchanging slow kisses and a warm embrace, unaware that there’s already an idea of putting a ring on you in toji’s mind

n*sfw hc’s below

toji loves your pussy !!!! ohh my god after that whole situation youve had more opportunities now. he had eaten you out before in his office, fucked you there but was always threatened by time. not that he cared but hes had enough of clients backing out on him so you suggested he go into meetings earlier

it came to bite you back in the ass cause you end up being horny for him multiple times and youve only able to bribe him out of meetings successfully like three times

loves any part of your body on his cock. making out? give him a handjob. eating dinner? play footsies with him and use ur feet to massage his dick. in a meeting? BLOW HIM !!!!!

another one who loves to cum on your face, but sometimes he likes to cum on your chest and tits and when you grab his cock to smother the cum on you >>>>>

he was surprised the first time you crawled under his table a minute before his meeting started and he already knew what you had in mind. he was clearly excited, getting hard almost instantly and had to mask the redness on his face with a hand

toji coughs when you first unbuckle his pants and he’s listening in to a coworker pitch a business idea, trying to keep his composure when your mouth first encloses around his tip. and u have the gall to giggle omg? he cums so hard that time he realises hes the only one left in the zoom meeting after and the other made sure to teach you a lesson after, fucking you until everything on his desk ended up on the floor. he’d have to call the company contractor to cover up the scratch marks on the floor ehehe

obsessed with how much bigger he is compared to you, always towering over your person and he has to resist manhandling you when you place an innocent hand on his forearm and ask him a question

LOVES to send you dick pics. and his are the ones where he actually knows how to pose, like palming his bulge in sweatpants when hes home and youre not

takes a pic of his actual dick under the table at work and alludes to the time you gave him a bj

his pictures are actually SO hot that youre immediately calling him up just to talk to him

you always end up getting off yourself too though, the raspy voice comin from your phone enough to make you cum

before, exchanging lewd messages and pics were a norm but now if he needs you he’s asking his driver to drive you back to his house STAT. bro needs to be in you asap

he once left an event where he was supposed to be presented with some award just bc you sent a very lovely pic of you in the dark green lingerie you bought on his black card

he fucked you so well that night you knocked out immediately and he had to clean you up, all lovestruck and soft

leans into the ‘daddy’ thing pretty okay, but hes okay if you dont use it either

agrees to be in suggestive tiktoks where they show off their man only to do something totally inappropriate so now that vid is kept in your priv collection bc it ended up being extended and became a vid of you holding your front camera up to your face with tongue lolled out and profanities leaving your mouth

he takes the phone later from you to film how his cock moves in and out of you yyuuuummm he loves it

like gojo, loves to video you because sometimes he goes on long business trips and he needs to have something to jerk off to

his favourite is when you’re on your back and he’s filming your pussy taking his fat cock, folds spreading so nicely while his cum from earlier forms a white ring around the base of his cock oh god he watches that over and over

also loves cumming in you but more of the thought of marking you compared to knocking you up

cockwarming aahhahsddj it’s one of his other favourite things to do, hiking your skirt and tears your pantyhose, sinking you down on his aching length and he just loves the wrap of your pussy around him. trust me he’s trying not to thrust up into you but youre breaking down easily and he hisses every time you shift just a little

warnings for drabble: cockwarming, daddy kink, semi-public sex (toji’s on a call and the person on the line hears), riding, clit stimulation, calls you ‘slut’, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink

“c’mon, tojiii, just for a while?” you pout, tugging on his arm with big doe eyes, smiling to yourself when he just sighs and mutters out a fine.

toji can’t help but smile either way, receiving the peck on your cheek with heated cheeks, but now he smiles wholeheartedly, his hard cock buried in you while you struggle not to move. there’s wireless buds in his ears, stuck in the middle of a meeting while your face is hidden in his neck, soft pants leaving your mouth.

you’re thankful the camera isn’t on at least, but you’re still at risk with the small sounds you make, trying to focus on anything but the pulsing large cock in you. you already regret asking for this when you knew he had a meeting coming up with the thought of making him crave for you. instead it happens the other way around, you begging him to move with your hips while he calmly puts his hands on them, rubbing circles into your back like it helped.

but you don’t care, not when you’re filled to the brim like this and you can’t move, so slowly you start to roll your hips, grinding onto his pelvis and you can hear toji exhale shakily, voice still firm as he agrees ro the budget the client proposed. his hand holds the back of your neck and pulls you from the embrace, setting his eyes on you with a warning but you only can shrug, lifting your hips before dropping down on his cock.

“angel…” he mutes the microphone, the man droning on about numbers and profits making his head spin when his pretty girl was deliberately ignoring his warnings, but he couldn’t blame you with how your hot, tight pussy felt around him. toji assumed his plea of that simple name he liked to call you was enough, but when he unmutes his mic, you’re pulling one side of his earbuds off, mouth close to his ears.

“please, daddy…” you mumble, still bouncing on his thick cock. by now you’ve been cockwarming him for an hour, cunt slick with juices that it drips down his balls and onto the office chair, the movement of your hips only highlighting the lewd, sopping sounds of your pussy. there’s no doubt the other man hears what’s going on but you only press on, the chair creaking below the both of you as you ride him. toji’s trying so hard not to groan himself, throat tight and uncomfortable.

“let him hear,” you whimper out, a hand reaching down to rub your clit and toji grunts at the thought of it, of you knowing you belong to him, “wan’ him to know how good my daddy makes me f-feel, mmf—”

and so he listens to you once you say that, wrapping both arms tightly around you before his hips also meet yours, your juices spurting and spilling all over from how wet you were. your moans get louder in his office while he bullies his thick cock into you, tip kissing your spots so deliciously that you can only manage one word pleas. you sink easily into him after a while before he takes the lead, fucking up into you with the sounds of his balls hitting the fat of your ass.

“my pussy’s so warm and tight. ya likin’ this huh? you little slut,” toji grins, loving how he can feel your nipples through your work attire and the stretch of your pussy on him and the shock on the other’s face. if anything, you both knew how much he wished the camera was on on toji’s side.

“y—yeah, love it s’much! gonna cum, toji—”

toji only hums, capturing your lips in a kiss and effectively swallowing your whimpers as he thrusts deeper into you, “pretty girl’s gonna cum?”

“y-yeah daddy…” he feels you nod and mumble, hands massaging your sides before he feels your pussy clench around him and you cum with trembling thighs and a lax jaw. the way you look and feel also has toji grunting out with stuttering hips and he shoots his load deep in you, sending you into a blissful, dazed state as he spills his white liquid deep down your cunt.

with a shiver, you’re catching your breath before feeling his cum spill out of you, blobs of white pooling at the hilt as you swipe a finger at it to pop it in your mouth, exchanging a grin with toji before he starts a pace again, call long forgotten and a transfer at the tip of his fingers to keep his loyal client’s mouth shut.

ty for the request muaahahahah @moonjella

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bloatedandalone04 · 10 months

Text

I Promised You I’d Never Give Up - Part 4

➪the one where bradley comes home and the two of you finally celebrate your engagement.

Warnings: 18+, age gap, smut, fluff, swearing, unprotected sex, pain kink, oral (f receiving), pda, hair pulling, mentions of a sex tape, fingering, multiple orgasms, soft dom bradley, daddy kink...?, more than half of this is just smut lolz....the end...?

Word Count: 7.7k | Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

“Yes…feels so good, Bradley,”

Bradley groaned as he watched the video you and he made the night before his two month deployment. He was painfully hard, and while his hand helped relieve it a bit, nothing compares to you.

“Bradley,” your voice cried through the phone’s speakers. “Touch me, please.”

“Fuck,” he grunted, stroking himself a bit faster and squeezing his eyes shut when the phone landed on the bed and kept recording the sounds of your sweet moans. He was left to imagine your beautiful face and your sinful body in his mind, the sounds you made when you came spurring his own release. “Baby.”

He wished you were there with him so badly. As he painted his hand white with his release, he glanced down at his phone and watched as you ran your finger through the mess he made on you before licking it clean and smiling.

Then the video ended and he was left feeling only half satisfied.

He felt grateful that he had the video on his phone, and a bit bad that you were left with nothing. He smirked to himself as he began cleaning up the evidence of what he did, the email you sent him nearly two months ago flashing in his mind.

I should’ve made you send that video to me before you left. I want you so badly, I can’t even function properly.

He knew you were over-exaggerating a bit, but it was still kinda funny to imagine you not being able to get yourself off when he wasn’t there to do it for you. It also turned him on, thus resulting in him watching the video you made together for the hundredth time since he started this deployment.

He could only imagine you laying on your shared bed, your fingers doing nothing at all to soothe the ache in your core. Then he imagines your fingers in general, and how he put a ring on one of them before he left.

“Bradshaw,” Jake called through the locked door. “You decent? We’re going home tomorrow, I need to pack.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bradley muttered as he stuffed his phone into his packed bag before unlocking and opening the door. “You really think I’m not aware of the fact that we’re going home in less than twenty hours?”

Jake rolled his eyes as he entered the small room and sat down on his bed. “No, I didn’t think that,” he answered as he pulled his bag out from under the bed frame. “You’ve been all packed up and ready to go for days now. You’re usually the one reminding me.”

“Can you blame me?” Bradley grinned as he sat down on his bed. “You know you miss her just as much as I do.”

Jake nodded and began messily throwing his clothes into the bag. “Just not in the same way,”

Bradley huffed out a laugh and moved to lay down. “Yeah, and you’re lucky that’s the case,” he said and looked over at the blond. “You ever like her as more than a friend, Seresin?”

Jake stopped packing and gave him a weary look, making Bradley’s small smile disappear as he put on a stern look.

“You can tell me,” he pressed. “I won’t get mad.”

“Yeah, right,” Jake snorted and set his bag aside. “Like hell you won’t. You’re so obsessed with Y/n, you’d get mad if Bob was looking at her in a certain way.”

“Nah,” the brunet disagreed as he tucked his hands behind his head. “I’d never get mad at Bob.”

“Just at me,” Jake muttered before sitting up straight. “No. I’ve never liked her as more than a friend. She’s like my sister, and you should know that by now, Rooster.”

Bradley hummed, closing his eyes as he refrained from counting down the minutes until he was back with you. “Just making sure we’re still on the same page here, Hangman,”

“We are,” Jake confirmed, zipping up his poorly packed bag and setting it down on the floor. “When we get back, are you going to let me say hi to her before you drag her back home and do whatever it is that you two do together?”

“No,”

When Bradley added a headshake in, Jake huffed and moved to lay down as well. “Why am I not surprised,”

I can see the dock. Please tell me you’re there.

Bradley hastily typed out the message before sending it to you, looking up as if that would help him figure out where you were in the crowd. The dock couldn’t get closer any slower if it tried, he thought as he looked back down at his phone.

Pretty girl: I’m here, Bradley. Of course I’m here. I missed you so much.

His heart skipped a beat or two as he dropped his bag onto the ground of the carrier deck and replied to you.

I missed you, too. Almost there, baby. I hope you’re ready.

Your instant response had him smirking.

Pretty girl: Been ready for the last two months. Been wet, too. Still am.

He picked his bag back up when the carrier finally reached the dock, and he had to refrain from using his size to his advantage like he didn’t necessarily enjoy doing. Bradley had long since lost sight of Jake as he finally made it off the carrier. He fumbled around with his phone when he stepped onto the dock, bringing it up to his ear after clicking on your contact. “Baby, where are you?” He asked as soon as you answered.

“Made it easy for you,” you answer and he could’ve moaned at how sweet your voice sounded. Sure, he heard your voice in the video, but hearing you in real life, even through a phone call, had his mind going into a frenzy. It was fucking torture that he wasn’t allowed to call you at all this time around. “At the very back, close to the road.”

He actually groaned this time as he moved through the crowd, pressing his phone tightly against his ear. “I’m coming, pretty girl,”

He could practically hear your smirk. “Not yet,” you say. “But you will be soon.”

Before Bradley could moan again, he felt someone grip his shoulder. He turned for a brief second, the sight behind him making him roll his eyes before turning back around and heading towards the far end of the dock. “Jake’s with me, too,”

“Jake! I missed him!” You say excitedly and Bradley once again rolls his eyes. Jake was such a fucking mood killer, it was unfair. This wasn’t the first time the blond had interrupted his time with you. He had nearly walked in on Bradley jerking off more than a few times during the last couple of months, and now he was interrupting his foreplay with you.

“You missed me more,” he said smoothly as Jake kept a firm hold on his shoulder, as if he was a mother guiding her child through a busy store.

“Jesus, Bradshaw, slow down,” Jake called out over the chaos of people around them. “I need a ride.”

Bradley stopped dead in his tracks, making Jake bump into him. “Like fuck you do,” he said, still holding the phone to his ear.

“Come on, man, I said I might need you to drop me off once we got back,” Jake pointed out and Bradley was about to disagree with that until he suddenly remembered the conversation the two of them had a few nights ago. It was right after Jake had nearly walked in on Bradley watching the video, and his head was still swarming with the image of you, he couldn’t be blamed for tuning the other guy out.

“Fuck, you’re right,” he muttered before continuing to walk, ignoring the smirk Jake gave him as he followed closely behind. “We need to drop Jake off, baby. Then we’re going home.”

“God, I can’t wait for you to take me home,” you all but moaned into the phone, and of course the sound went right to Bradley’s dick.

He grunted, glancing back at his…friend? Is that what the two aviators were now? “I’m almost there,”

“I can’t wait,” you say back. “I’m literally shaking.”

Bradley grinned as he finally made it through the swarm of people, and then he was scanning the area for both you and the Bronco. He barely acknowledged Jake as his eyes met yours, and he hung up the phone and was making his way over to you within four strides.

You met him a little less than halfway and jumped into his awaiting arms after he dropped his bag. “Bradley,” you say, relief evident in your voice as you wrapped your legs around his waist. “I missed you.”

His lips were on yours shortly after that, and his hands moved to hold your dress down so you didn’t accidentally flash the many people around. Your teeth nipped his lips as you pressed kiss after kiss to them, your hands sliding up and tangling in his slightly longer hair.

He was planning on going and getting it cut when he got back to San Diego, but might hold off on that as your relentless tugging felt even better than before. “Baby,” he mumbled when he pulled away and wrapped his arms around you tightly. “I missed you so fucking much. My girl. My fiancée.” He grabs your hand in his and kisses your finger that held your pretty ring, and it was nearly blinding as it reflected off the sun.

Now that he knew what it was like, he was certain that nothing felt better than having someone to come back to after his deployments, and having that someone be you was making him feel slightly feral.

You grin as he kisses you again, your lips meshing together a bit awkwardly at first before you start to kiss him back. “Bradley,” you sigh against his mouth, pulling away just slightly. “I need…Jake!”

“I need- what?” Bradley barely managed to ask before he felt a light slap on his back.

“Hey, sweetheart,” came Jake’s voice from behind him. “Did you miss me, too?”

You smile at him and move to get down. Bradley helps you steady yourself before you throw yourself at Jake. “Of course I missed you,”

“It’s good to see you,” he says as he returns the hug. The second you stepped away, Bradley was pulling you against his side and pressing kiss after kiss to the top of your head. “And I know, I know. I’m ruining your little reunion, so the quicker we leave, the quicker you can drop me off and the quicker you two can get home.”

“You’re right again, Seresin,” Bradley said as he picked his bag up and tugged you over to the passenger side door of the Bronco. He opens it and kisses you again once you are seated, moving to stand in between your thighs as you pull him closer. His hands grip your waist while yours tangle in his hair, and he knew if you kept this up, he would be sporting a hard on in no time. He groaned as he pulled away. “We gotta go.” He stated, kissing you one last time before closing the door and opening the back one.

Jake pushes past him and hops in the Bronco, grinning at Bradley as he says, “And they say chivalry is dead,”

You turn and look back at him as Bradley throws his bag at Jake before closing the door. “Have you two finally gotten past whatever it was that was between you? Dare I ask, are you two friends?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Bradley answers as he gets in on the drivers side.

“We’re working on it,” Jake says and settles back against the seat.

You raise a brow as Bradley takes your hand in his and pulls out of the parking spot, driving a bit over the speed limit in order to get rid of Jake as fast as he could. “I’m really glad you two are finally getting along,” you say as you near Jake’s street. “My best friend and boyfriend are actually becoming friends. Never thought I’d see the day.”

“I’m sorry, your what?” Bradley asks, looking over at you with a smirk.

You match it as you lean over and grip his thigh. “Sorry,” you say. “I meant my best friend and my fiancé.”

“Better,” he murmured and refrained from rolling his eyes at the loud way Jake cleared his throat.

“You guys are too much,” he says and takes off his seatbelt. “Hold off on jumping each other for thirty more seconds, okay? I’ll be gone soon enough.”

You laugh and pull away, much to Bradley’s dismay as he reaches Jake’s house. “There you go, now get out,” he says and you slap his arm.

“Bradley,” you scold as Jake opens the back door and gets out.

“It’s fine. We spent the last two months together,” he says and smiles at you. “I’m sick of the guy, too.”

Bradley glared at him as Jake winks at you before walking into his house. “He’s gone,” you state the obvious and grip his thigh again. “Now don’t make me beg. Take me home.”

He groaned, pulling out of Jake’s driveway then taking your hand again. “But you know I love it when you beg,” he smirked as his thumb spun the ring around your finger. “My fiancée is so needy for me.”

You bring your joined hands up to your mouth, where you gently begin sucking on his index finger. “You have no idea,” you mumble and Bradley was barely able to concentrate on driving as he felt your tongue swirl around the tip of his finger. “I’ve only made myself come twice since you’ve been gone.”

“What?” He asked in shock, looking over at you when he stopped at a red light. His thumb pulled at your bottom lip, his brows furrowing when you let out a needy whine. “You’ve gotten yourself off twice in two months? That’s it?”

You whine again as your face heats up. “They both lasted less than a second each. I can’t make myself feel as good as you do,” you defended yourself. “How many times did you get off?”

“Like, nearly every night,” he grunted, driving again once the light turned green. “Fuck, baby, now I feel bad.”

You laughed, bringing his hand down so it was gripping your thigh. “Don’t,” you wave off. “It was quite eye opening to realize that you were right when you said I wouldn’t be able to forget you were gone once I tried to make myself come without you here to do it for me.”

His smirk grew as his hand slid higher up your thigh. “I’m really glad I was right about that,” he briefly looked over at you, his gaze softening as he noticed the way your face was flushed and your eyes were wide with lust. “You need me, huh?” His quiet question lacked any sort of mockery, and he sounded so genuine.

It had you squeezing your thighs together. “Bradley,”

“I need you, too,” he continued as he turned onto yours and his street. “I need to feel you, right here.” His hand moved under your dress and stroked your lace covered core.

“Oh, God,” you moan and grip his wrist as he begins to softly rub your clit.

Bradley pulled into the driveway and pulled the keys out not even a second later. “Come here, baby,” he rasped, helping you over the center console and letting you settle against his lap. “Come ride my thigh.”

You brace yourself on his lap and place your hands on his shoulders, your fingers digging into his uniform shirt. His hands grab your waist and pull your body right up against his before gently guiding you forward.

The soft, relieved sigh that leaves your mouth had him leaning in and connecting his mouth to yours. “Missed that sound,” he mumbled, rocking your hips against his thigh. “That video doesn’t do you any justice, pretty girl.”

You whine, tangling your hands in his hair. “I wanna see it,” you whisper, moving your body with the help of his hands. “Did you watch it a lot?”

He hummed, nodding before pushing you back a bit and kissing along the tops of your breasts. “I couldn’t stop watching it,” he confessed. You moan and lean back against the steering wheel, making sure, even in your lust filled haze, to not put too much pressure on the middle of it. “You looked so hot, baby, like you do right now.”

You whimper, blindly reaching for his biceps as his hands slide up your back. “Bradley,” you moan, helplessly clenching around nothing as you grind your core against his khaki covered thigh.

“I know, baby,” he cooed, kissing your neck before gently sucking a mark there. You moan a bit louder, reaching one hand down and gripping him through his pants. He groaned against your skin, sliding his hands to rest on the small of your back, where he tugged you forward with a bit more force than last time.

“Feels so good,” you whimper, leaning in and kissing him roughly.

Bradley didn’t really plan on getting you off in the Bronco and in your driveway, where literally any one of your neighbors could walk out of their houses and see you (which is why he didn’t pull your dress down and ravish your tits like he really wanted to - the neighbors did not need to see you in that way). But then you told him you hadn’t been able to make yourself feel good enough to the point of coming without him there.

At first he felt bad, but now he just felt smug and a bit full of himself. He had ruined you for any other guy - not that any other guy would even get a chance with you now - and even ruined you for yourself.

He had made you so needy for him, and that fact had made him painfully hard.

With that being said, he had a lot of making up to do.

He grunted quietly at your words, pulling away from your neck so he could take over the uneven movement of your hips. “Bradley,” you warn in a breathy voice.

“You gonna come?” He rasped, bending his knee a bit so his thigh tightened and gave you a more firm surface.

It was almost comical how quickly he was able to get you off without even actual penetration, and you were a bit embarrassed at the many hours you spent trying to do it to yourself when he was away. Nothing felt better than him, and that was beyond clear at this point.

You just whimper in response and cling onto him with shaky hands. “It’s okay,” he says quietly, kissing your jaw as your movements become a bit more frantic. “Come, sweet girl, you deserve it.”

His words go right through you and you cry out a bit, pressing your lips to his in an attempt to silence your sounds. “Fuck,” you whisper against his mouth as you stop grinding against him. You pull away with a fucked out expression on your face, and Bradley is sure he’s never seen a hotter sight. “Hi.”

He grins and kisses you quickly, smoothing out the fabric of your dress. “Hey,”

You smile back and glance down at the damp spot on his pants, a teasing look in your eyes. “I missed you,”

Bradley reached for the door handle and kept his free hand on your lower back as he got out. “I missed you,” he said back as he carried you up to the front door. He gives you his keys as he sets you down, his hands gripping your waist when you turn and unlock the door. “God, you look so pretty.”

You give him a smirk from over your shoulder as you enter the house, and he follows close behind and kicks the door shut behind him. “Guess what?” You ask as you turn around and drape your arms around his neck.

He hummed, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips as he pulled you against him. “What?”

“In a few days it’ll be one year since we met,”

Your words didn’t sound true to him, as it felt like he had known you for a lot longer than a year by this point, but when he gave it some thought, he realized you were right.

He was going on half a year of being with you, unofficially, when he fucked up and broke things off, then he spent a month and a half on his own, then another three after that with you as his official girlfriend, and now it’s been another two months.

“You’re right,” he mumbled, holding you even closer to him. “Almost one whole year since the second best night of my life.”

You squint as you play with his pins. “What’s the first?”

“The night I got you back,” he answered, kissing the corner of your mouth. “The same night I told you I love you.”

You give him a dumb grin as you tug at the hair on the back of his neck. “What a perfect night that was,” you agree and he shakes his head as he picks you up effortlessly and carries you down the hall towards your bedroom.

“It was perfect because you decided to forgive me for some reason,” he says as he lays you down on the bed. “Still haven’t quite figured out why you did that, but I’ll never complain.”

You shake your head as he unbuttons his shirt and lets it drop to the floor. “I’d forgive you a hundred times again if it meant it ended with us being together,”

Bradley kissed your mouth deeply, his hand coming up to grip one of your breasts through your dress as he did so. “We’ll always be together, I made sure of that,” he held up your left hand so your ring is on full display. That same hand tangles in his hair as he kisses his way down your body. “Now let’s see the mess you made.”

He pulls down your damp panties and drops them to the floor as well, his eyes darkening at your glistening core. You gasp as he leans in and licks a stripe up your folds, the sudden stimulation making your body shudder a bit.

His tongue gently traces circles onto your clit, and you tug on his hair in the way you know he loves. “Bradley,” you whimper, shaking a bit when he lifts a hand and slowly slips his middle and index fingers into you. “It’s too much.”

But your walls greedily sucked the digits in deeper, betraying your own words. “You can take it,”

And you could. He would never make you do something you weren’t comfortable with, nor would he ever push you past your limit. He knew how much you could handle, and he knew you weren’t close to that point yet. His dick twitched at the thought of getting you there, though.

You moan quietly, propping yourself up on one elbow as you thread your fingers through his hair. “Don’t cut this,” you softly request, making him laugh against you. The vibrations had you clenching tightly around his fingers and another moan leaving your lips, this one much louder than the last.

He pulls away from your core with wet lips that were curved into a smirk. “You like me with longer hair, huh?” He teased, tracing your clit again with a barely-there pressure.

“I love you with longer hair,” you correct and tilt your head back. “Please, don’t cut it for a little while, okay?”

He laughed again, fucking his fingers a bit faster into you. “I’ll keep it this way for as long as you want,” he offered and was completely serious. His hair had only grown about an inch while he was deployed, and though he preferred to have it short, he wasn’t opposed to growing it out for you.

In other words, he was completely whipped for you and wanted to do any little thing that would make you happy, and he would proudly admit that to anyone who asked.

“You love me that much, huh?” You tease back, your face scrunching up a bit as his fingers reach that spot deep within you.

“I think I love you a bit too much,” he said, his mouth returning to your clit. Your mouth opens in a quiet whine, your teeth digging into your bottom lip as he circles the bundle of nerves with his tongue. “You’re going to be my wife. My fucking wife.”

You grin down at him, your thighs shaking a bit when he fucks his tongue into you. “You kept your word, huh? About ensuring that I’d grow sick of you? I’ve heard a lot of horror stories about wives growing sick of their husbands, Bradley,”

He looks up at you, his mouth glistening. “We’re meant to be together, baby,” he states, wrapping his arms around your thighs. “You can grow as sick of me as you want, but I’m never getting over you.”

Tugging harshly at his hair, you whimper. “You always say the sweetest things,”

“I know,” he agrees. “You’ve made me so pathetic, but it’s worth it.”

You shake your head quickly, reaching further down and caressing the side of his face. “You’re not pathetic, Bradley,” you scolded with a hint of playfulness in your voice, but you were also dead serious. “Meeting you that night at the Hard Deck was the best thing that ever happened to me, and everything that happened after that led up to this. I wouldn’t change a thing. Not even the heartbreaks.”

Bradley pulled his mouth away and stared up at you with nothing but love in his dark eyes. “Baby,” he rasped, using his free hand to assist him in crawling back up your body. He continues to fuck his fingers into you as he presses his mouth to yours in a desperate and needy kiss. “I promise I will never hurt you ever again. That was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made. I promise, for as long as I’m with you, I’ll make sure you’re so fucking happy all the time.”

You smile into the kiss, raking your nails down his back with just enough pressure to cause the sting he loved so much. “Guess I’m going to be so fucking happy for the rest of my life,”

He grinned back at you. “I’ll make sure of it,” he repeats as the tips of his fingers brush against your sweet spot.

Your smile breaks as a moan tumbles from your mouth, and you grab onto his hair tightly and bring his mouth to yours in a messy kiss. “‘M gonna come again,”

Bradley hums against your mouth, your salivas mixing together and wetting both yours and his lips. “Come for me, baby,” he practically begged, wanting nothing more than to get you off at least a couple more times in the remainder of the day since you had been deprived of it for so long.

You gladly do as he says and come for the second time since he returned home. Your body shook a bit uncontrollably as you moaned against his mouth, his throat swallowing all of your sweet sounds. “Bradley,” you nearly whispered, reaching down to still his hand once you felt the sensitivity begin to take over.

“I know, pretty girl,” he cooed, kissing you again before slowly pulling his fingers out of your sopping core. Seconds later he was sucking them clean of your release, never breaking eye contact with you as he did so. “You’re so good for me, baby. Taste so good.”

“Jesus,” you mutter as you try to stop your legs from shaking. He just smiles at you, his hands reaching down to pull your dress up and over your head.

He leans down and kisses along the tops of your breasts, his fingers playing with the straps of your bra as he did so. “You gonna let me fuck you, sweet girl?” He asked, reaching behind you and unclasping your bra. “Think you can take another one?”

You nod your head as he drops your bra off the side of the bed, your kiss swollen lips puffed out and begging him to cover them with his own again. “Always,” you answer, unzipping his pants with shaky fingers.

Bradley watched with a teasing grin, his eyes moving up your bare body and meeting your own. “I don’t think you’re ready for another one,” he mumbled, trailing his fingers down your chest until they were pinching your nipples. “Think you need a minute.”

“No,” you shake your head and push down his khaki pants just enough to be able to free him from his tight boxer briefs. “Bradley, please.”

He just grinned down at your pleads, smoothing your hair out again. “You need me, hm?” He knew he was being cruel, but the sight of you so needy and whiny and desperate for him was one he loved to see. “You need to be filled.”

It wasn’t a question, because you both know the answer to it. “I need it so badly,” you agreed, pulling down his briefs and wrapping your small fingers around him. “Haven’t you missed being inside of me?”

Bradley groaned quietly as you began to stroke him. “Of course I did, baby,” he answered, pressing his forehead to your shoulder. Your hand felt so much better than his own, and he knew no one else could get him going like you can. “Missed it so much.”

“Then stop teasing me,” you murmur, stroking him a bit faster. He grunted and kissed your shoulder before sucking a mark there, and you moan as you wrap your legs around his waist. Biting down harshly on your lip, you think about what you were going to say next very carefully, and more specifically, what you were going to call him. You were a bit nervous as you didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable, but decided to go for it. You could wallow in the embarrassment later if he were to not be into it. “Come on, please….daddy.”

It was as if all the air in the room had been sucked away. Bradley tensed up immediately, his mouth detaching from your shoulder as he slowly began to lift his head. Your heart was beating loudly in your ears and your skin was on fire as you waited to see his reaction.

You were a bit worried that his silence meant something bad, but when he lifted his head all the way and finally met your gaze, his eyes were even darker and his expression told you all you needed to know. He was into it. “Daddy…huh?” He tested the word out and noticed the way you squirmed under him when he said it. He braced his forearms on either side of your head as he ground his front against yours, his mouth muffling the moan you let out as he pressed a deep kiss to your lips. “I’m your daddy, hm, baby?” He asked when he pulled away, his eyes flickering between your own and your mouth.

You nod once and smile shyly up at him, as if you hadn’t just called him your fucking daddy.

He groaned loudly, growing impossibly harder. “Is it because I’m ten years older than you?”

You shrug. “Maybe. I just wanted to try it out,” you mumble. “See how it felt. If you’re not into it-”

“Oh, I’m into it,” he cut you off, kissing your neck and throat as he tried to hold back his groans. “Fuck, am I into it. I’m trying not to come right now after hearing you call me that.”

You laugh, a blush taking over your face. “So, we’re both okay with it,” you state and he nods quickly. “Okay….now can you please fuck me? I missed you for two months, daddy.”

Bradley growled under his breath, reaching down and guiding himself into your dripping core without any resistance from you. “Fuck,” he grunted, sliding one arm under you while his other hand reaches up and tangles in your hair. “You feel so fucking perfect.”

You moan at the stretch of your walls, your own fingers being nothing compared to him. It was no wonder you couldn’t get yourself off when it was this you were so used to. “You’re so big,” you gasp when he begins to roughly rock his hips against yours. “Oh, God.”

“Not quite,” he rasped, pressing his forehead against yours with a smirk forming on his lips. “I think we established who I am to you, huh?”

Another blush takes over your face as you nod, raking your hands through his messy hair. “Right,” you say, wrapping your legs tighter around his hips. “You fill me up so well, daddy. Make me feel so good.”

“That’s right, baby,” he murmured, kissing you again as he fucked into you hard and fast, just the way he knew you needed. Your core greedily took every thrust, though sensitive, but desperate to be filled up by him. “‘M gonna make you my wife, pretty girl. Show everyone how much I fucking love you.”

Not that everyone didn’t already know, he wanted to add but didn’t. It was true, though. Everyone knew that he was in love with you before he even realized it himself.

You whine quietly, tracing his scars with the tip of your index finger. Your body rocked against his with every grind of his hips, your hands clinging onto any part of him they could get a firm grip on. “I love you, Bradley,” you moan, digging your heel into his lower back and driving him deeper into you. “I have since the very beginning.”

“I’ve loved you for almost a year now,” he commented, pulling away with a grin. “A whole year.”

You grin back, kissing his cheek and then his neck as you ask, “Bradley, let me ride you, please?”

It wasn’t a position you found yourself in too often, as you both preferred him to be on top, but it was one that allowed him to reach the deepest part of you.

He grunted and pulled away from you. “You think you can keep up, sweet girl? I’ve made you come twice now and you’re looking a little spent,”

“You’re the one who is ten years older, remember?” You remind him as you writhe around a bit. “I think I can keep up just fine.”

Bradley hummed, his grin turning into a smirk as he placed one hand on your lower back and pulled your body against his as he flipped you over so he was on his back. “Okay,” he challenged in a deep tone. “Ride me, then.”

You place your palms flat against his chest as you sink down onto him, the new angle making him stretch you in the best way possible. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

He laughs a bit as his hands move to grip your waist and help guide you up and down on him. “What makes you say that?”

Your brows furrow a bit as your nails dig into his skin. “You’ve gotten me off two times now, it’s not fair. You’ve ruined me,”

He laughed again, his thumbs pressing into the skin of your hips as you slowly rode him. “I thought that was a good thing,”

“It is,” you whisper as he reaches the deepest part of you, his tip brushing against your sweet spot. “Fuck.”

Bradley gives you a half smirk and half grin as he stills you by your hips and thrusts sharply upwards. “There?” He asks under his breath, knowing the answer but wanting to hear you say it.

Of course you give in. “Yes,” you whimper, scratching down his chest as he fucks up into you. “Right there, Bradley. Feels so good.”

You clench down tightly around him and Bradley had to force himself to not come right then and there. “I know,” he muttered through a tight jaw, his brows furrowing as you lean down and press multiple kisses to the scars on his throat and neck. “I know, baby, you feel so fucking good, too.”

“Bradley,” you whine, reaching a hand up and tugging on his hair. “I’m gonna come.”

Bradley, who had been holding off since he got you off in the Bronco, felt his body tense up as he helped you ride him until you had come for the third time since he got back. Your warmth floods around him and makes it easier to thrust up into you, and the fucked out expression you wore had him grunting as he came deep within you. “Fuck,” he rasped, keeping your body pressed firmly against his.

Still buried in you, Bradley slides his hands up your body until he is able to grip the back of your shoulders and hold you against him as he moves to lay on his side. You laugh loudly, wrapping your leg around his waist and draping your arms around his neck.

“I love you,” he murmured as he pressed kisses to your neck, his hand blindly reaching for your left one. He pulled back to be able to look at your ring for a few seconds, a dumb grin taking over his lips once he looked back at you. “I can’t believe we’re gonna get married. I mean, I can, but I can’t.”

You shake your head and lean up to kiss the base of his throat, feeling his deep groan against your lips. “Let’s go to the Hard Deck later,” you offer with a teasing smile.

He groaned again and shook his head, wrapping you up tighter in his arms and moving back up to the pillows. “No, baby, I wanna stay home with you all night,”

The movement caused him to shift slightly inside you, making you hold back a whine at the nearly overwhelming feeling of sensitivity. You couldn’t believe he had made you come three times in under an hour, when you couldn’t even do that after spending multiple hours trying to. “But we have some exciting news to share with our friends,” you state and run your fingers through his hair in an attempt to smooth it out.

Bradley furrows his brows as he runs his hand up and down your back. “What do you mean?” He asks, pulling back to be able to look at you when you didn’t respond. Realization kicked in and his eyes widened a bit. “You didn’t tell anyone?”

You smile and shake your head. “No, I wanted us to tell them together. I hid my ring in public,” you say. “Why, who did you tell?”

“Only Jake, like, right after it happened,” he says as he finally pulls out and sits up against the headboard. You prop yourself up on your elbow and trail your fingers over the crevices of his abs, your mind a bit hazy at just how fit he is. “I swear, if he’s already told everyone I will make sure he does not get invited to the wedding. I don’t care if he’s our friend.”

“Our friend?” You ask with wide eyes. “I knew you two made up! Bradley, I’m so happy! You two were feuding for way too long.”

“That wasn’t my fault. Yeah, I fucked up first, but he’s the one who never gave me the time of day after you and I got back together,” he pointed out and wrapped his hand around your wrist, his thumb twirling your ring around. “He acted like I didn’t feel guilty for six weeks straight after we…broke up.”

“Bradley,” you trail off, sitting up and nuzzling into his side. “No more thinking about that day. Look at us now. We’re engaged. You’re going to be my husband, Bradley. Everything worked out in the end.”

He nodded and kissed the side of your head, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “Yeah, I’ll always feel bad about it, though,” he mumbled but before you could scold him again he added, “Fuck it, we’re going out tonight. I can’t wait to show you off to everyone. Nat is going to freak the fuck out.”

“So, before we go in there, we need to address something,” Bradley says as you and he stand outside the Hard Deck. He wore tight fitting jeans and a pale blue and white Hawaiian shirt, and he looked damn near edible, you almost wanted to turn right back around so he could get you off for a fourth time.

Thinking he was referring to your secret engagement, you move closer to him and wrap your arms around his neck. “What is it?”

He grips your waist and the smirk that formed on his lips was all you needed to see to realize it wasn’t about the engagement. “This whole ‘daddy’ thing wasn’t a one time thing, right? Please don’t say it was a one time thing,”

You blush a bit and match his smirk, dropping your arms as you lean up and whisper, “Let’s go share our news, daddy,”

Bradley held back a groan as he blindly reached behind him and pulled open the door. You enter the Hard Deck tucked securely under his arm, your left hand hidden away in his back pocket. As soon as Nat locked eyes with him she was pushing her way through the crowd of aviators and throwing herself into her best friend’s arms. “I’m so happy you’re back,” she admitted and Bradley laughed as he hugged her back. “I gotta say, Y/n and I’s girl days weren’t really girl days at all. She spent the whole time whining about how much she missed you. It was sad, really.”

Your face heats up and you look away quickly, making Bradley grin down at you once he pulls away from the hug. “Yeah, well, I’m sure Jake feels the same way you do, Nat,” he said as he pulled you back into his side. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too,” she said back, looking between you and him. “It’s even better to see you two back together. So, when’s the wedding? I’m honestly surprised he hasn’t asked you to marry him yet.”

You and Bradley share a not-so-obvious look and Nat raises a brow.

“What? What am I missing…” she trailed off once you lifted your left hand and showed her the ring you spent the last two months hiding from her. Her face stayed a bit expressionless as she looked at the ring, then it was as a switch flipped as she let out a small squeal before covering her mouth. “You guys are engaged?! When? Where? How did this happen? Damn, Rooster, you haven’t even been home for twenty four hours yet and you already proposed to her?”

“As if,” he scoffed. “No, I proposed to her two months ago.”

Nat looked over at you with shock all over her face. “What? What the fuck, Y/n, how did you hide that from me?”

You shrugged. “I’m good at hiding things, I guess,”

This time Nat was the one to scoff. “Yeah, right. You couldn’t even keep your crush on Rooster a secret,” she said and you press your lips together in slight embarrassment when you hear Bradley laugh next to you. “We all knew you were in love with him from the night you met. You weren’t smooth about it at all.”

Bradley looks down at you with a teasing smile. “Aw,”

“Hey, you weren’t smooth about it, either,” Nat added, making his smile drop. “I can’t believe you guys are engaged! It took you long enough.” She moved to hug him again then moved onto you.

“Only you and Jake know now,” you say as you hug her back. “We’re going to announce it here.”

She pulled back with a barely concealed smile. “How did he go about it? Was it romantic?”

You look up at him with a sheepish grin. “He did it back on the dock before he left for his deployment. It was pretty romantic,”

Nat looked over at him as well. “Damn, Bradley, you left right after proposing?”

He shrugged. “I couldn’t wait any longer,”

“You guys are seriously so cute. I’m so happy for you,” she beamed. “Now please tell everyone else. I have a big mouth and I’m refraining from screaming right now.”

And that was how you found yourself surrounded by the dagger squad, a beer in everyone’s hands as they congratulated you on your engagement. “Thank God you two got here before I did,” Jake said as he stood next to you at the bar. “I thought big mouth over here would’ve told everyone the second she left that dock. I was going to bring it up with Javy later. That would’ve been pretty awkward.” He nudged you and you rolled your eyes.

“Thanks for not spoiling the surprise, Jake,” you say and lean up to kiss his cheek.

“Congrats, sweetheart,” he winked at you and wandered off towards the dart board.

You turn to Bradley and find him grinning at you, and you weren’t able to smile back before he was leaning down and kissing you. “I love you,” he mumbles once he pulls away.

“I love you,” you say back and look down at the bar. “Hey, this is where we met. In this exact spot.”

Bradley, too, looked down and his smile only grew. “Would you look at that,” he said as he set his empty beer down before taking your half full one from your hand. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you to his chest, his hand finding yours and his thumb turning your ring again. “Look where we are now. We’re getting married. We belong together, pretty girl.”

“Took you long enough to realize it,” you teased and he just shook his head before kissing you again.

#rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #rooster bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw smut #top gun maverick #top gun au #rooster top gun #top gun rooster #tgm fic #tgm #rooster x reader #rooster fanfic

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companionjones · 1 year

Text

Copenhagen

Pairing: Luca x Fem!Berzatto!Reader

Fandom: The Bear (Hulu)

Summary: You go to Copenhagen with Marcus, and meet Luca.

Warnings: SMUT, Cursing

*******

“I don’t know why you’re coming with me,” Marcus stated in the airport. “You know I can do this by myself.”

“I do know you can do this by yourself,” you agreed, “But I can’t explain it. I have to watch you do this by yourself...and going to Copenhagen is pretty great, too.”

Marcus smiled. “Yeah, right.” He rolled his eyes.

You were a Berzatto, Bear and Sugar’s little sister. It was Carmy’s idea to open a new restaurant when you all found Mikey’s money, and you and Nat were just helping out where you could. You threw yourself into this new project, though. A lot of it was to honor your late brother, but there was something else involved. You couldn’t put your finger on it, no matter how hard you tried. For some reason, you were as driven to open up the Bear as Carmy was, and you weren’t even involved in the kitchen.

Copenhagen was a beautiful city. Honestly, you loved anywhere that wasn’t America, but Chicago was your home.

“Who are you?” a British voice called out as you entered the pastry section of the kitchen.

You caught the eye of the man wondering who you were and quickly answered, “My name is Y/n Berzatto, are you Luca?”

He nodded, “That’s correct. You’re here to ask me questions?”

“About Marcus and your time together today, yes,” you confirmed.

Before you could get your first question in, Luca had a query of his own. “Why didn’t you come in with Marcus today?”

“We’re opening a restaurant back in Chicago. There’s a lot of stuff I have to do,” you smiled.

Luca smiled as well. “Alright. Fire away.”

You had a few questions to as Luca regarding Marcus and the craft, and that took you about ten minutes. “Thank you,” you bid genuinely when you were done.

“No problem,” Luca was still smiling at you. “Can I ask, why did you come all the way to another country when you could have sent those questions in an email?”

There was that same line of questioning Marcus had been asking you as you got on the plane over there. “Because...I just want everything to go right for this restaurant. I can’t explain it...but...”

“You care about everything, more than anything,” he finished for you.

That was the best you had heard your reasoning be explained, and you weren’t even the one that explained it. “Yeah,” you smiled at him in return.

“Yeah.” Luca went on, “Do you cook?”

“No, no,” you laughed off. “That’s my brothers’ thing. My-my sister and I stick to the paperwork side of things.”

“I find that surprising,” Luca revealed, “Carmen is the best chef I’ve ever worked with.”

You laughed again. “Yeah, I get that all the time.”

“Do you want to help me out with something?” Luca offered.

Daring forward, you peaked at his work. “What is it?”

“It’s called a compote. I could teach you how to make it, if you’d like.”

“Haven’t you done enough teaching for today?” You referenced Marcus.

Luca just smiled at you. “I don’t consider this work. Especially involving someone as beautiful as you.”

You felt your cheeks heat up. “Well, how could I say no to that invitation?”

Making it was easy enough. It involved boiling mixed berries, sugar, and honey...and that’s about it. You knew he went extra easy on you.

“Do you make this dessert for all the girls who wander into your kitchen?” you teased as you and Luca shared the compote.

He was quick to quietly respond. “No. Only you.”

A chill ran down your spine. You decided to remind him. “I’m only in Copenhagen for a week.”

“Darling, I’ve been wanting to do this since you walked in here.”

Without another thought, you leaned in and kissed him.

Almost everything about him was soft. His hands as they caressed your face, his lips as they danced with yours, everything was soft except for his chest as you racked your hands down it, aiming for his belt. His chest was hard as hell. You could feel his muscles flex as your hands came in contact with him.

Luca stopped you as you reached his belt. “Not yet,” he told you before standing and lifting you up onto the counter with little effort, “Can I take these pants off, darling?”

You lifted your hips as he slid the clothing down your legs. He planted a few kisses on them as he rose back up to meet your lips again.

Luca stood between your legs and slid his fingers up your folds as he kissed you. He held the two fingers up between you. “All this for me?”

“You weren’t the only one who wanted this to happen as soon as I walked in,” you revealed.

Luca put his two fingers in his mouth and sucked, all while keeping his eyes on you. “Now this is the best thing I can remember tasting in a long time...you ready?”

“Please,” you nodded.

Luca kissed you again before inserting his two fingers inside you.

You whined against his lips, and grabbed onto his shoulders.

Slowly, he started pumping them in and out of you with you rocking your hips along with him. Luca made out with you as he did that. You could barely keep up with his tongue. Soon, he brought in three fingers, and suddenly, you couldn’t keep up at all. You decided to wrap your legs around Luca and to just sit there and let it happen to you.

You felt your orgasm rising in your stomach. You were almost there when Luca pulled his fingers out of you.

“Fuck, darling. Can’t take it anymore,” was all he could say. He pulled his pants down enough to free his sizeable dick before shoving it inside you.

You let out a yelp, but Luca cut you off by covering your lips with his again.

Luca immediately started thrusting in and out of you. “That’s more like it,” he said when he broke away from kissing you. At a certain point, he just held you close as he, almost violently, made love to you.

“Luc--!” Your voice broke off as you came.

“That’s it. Squeeze me just like that--Good girl,” Luca emphasized as he came inside you with one final thrust. He brought his forehead back to yours before holding you in another kiss.

When that kiss broke, you asked Luca, “Can I have my pants back, please?”

“Of course.” He broke away from you with a laugh as he quickly readjusted his pants and belt and found your clothes lying on the floor.

You took the last bite of the compote as you waited.

With everyone’s clothes back on, Luca extended, “You’re more than welcome to come back any time you’d like, and not just for...that. Though, I wouldn’t be opposed.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed, either,” you returned, mocking his accent.

Luca cracked a smile as he looked at you. He slowly leaned back in for another kiss.

When you returned it, Luca leaned you against the counter.

The kiss eventually ended and you bid, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Luca.”

“See you tomorrow, Y/n.”

Two of your hands touched as you walked away, only breaking contact when you were too far to keep it.

You left Luca alone in his kitchen.

Sequel! Chicago

*******

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for reading! Fill up that heart and reblog if you liked it. I would also really appreciate a comment, if you have the time. If you would like to read more, I have more stories over on my page, you should check it out. Have a nice day, night, or whatever time it is for you!

#luca #luca the bear #luca the bear x reader #will poulter x reader #luca smut #luca the bear smut #luca the bear x reader smut #will poulter x reader smut #the bear #the bear hulu #the bear smut #will poulter #companion jones #copenhagen

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imaginedanvrs · 8 months

Text

encrypted relations

part 8 l masterlist

summary: yelena belova x reader. when natasha takes you under her wing, she becomes like family, and the last thing you want is to lose that. but when you meet her younger sister who you know is off limits, you have to decide between what you really want and hope for minimal damage

word count: 2.7k

warnings: lots of graphic violence and descriptions of blood and gore, mentions of past sexual assault, kidnapping, lmk if i missed anything

Several long days dragged by without you hearing anything from Yelena. It was hard, but everytime your gut twisted as you ached for the blonde you reminded yourself that she was no doubt feeling worse. You needed to fix things. Even if you couldn’t be together, you at least wanted to be able to talk to her again because her missing presence seemed to have created a noticeable hold in your life that you had no intention of filling with anyone else.

You were laying in your bed with your laptop next to you and Marty at your feet when your phone chimed with a text from Kate. As much as you loved your best friend, you were disappointed the message wasn’t from Yelena.

Kate: Melina did some digging and found something, if I don’t text till tonight can you walk Lucky?

You: yep, be safe!

Melina had found something? You had presumed she had stopped looking into the files like you had since coming to the end of them. Had she gone back through? Maybe found additional files you couldn’t see? You tried to shrug off the thoughts, knowing that the older Russian knew what she was doing, but you were curious more than anything else.

You turned on your computer and opened up your email chain to Melina that had ended a few weeks ago when you both declared you had gone through everything.

Kate just told me you found a lead, how’d you do it?? You typed out and sent off the email.

Much to your surprise, Melina responded within a few minutes but you stopped short when you read the simple message.

I didn’t. You froze and reread the two words again. What? Kate wouldn’t lie to you about going on a mission. You frantically opened up your phone to message the archer again, unable to ignore the nagging feeling that something was very wrong.

Me: where are you guys??

You tapped your phone in your hand but you knew that if Kate was already on her way then she wasn’t going to be looking at her phone. So you turned back to your computer as your mind twisted between assuring you she was fine and telling you the worst case scenarios. Yelena’s experience wouldn’t lead her into a trap and even if it did she would know what to do.

You didn’t get the chance to reply to Melina, because another new email caught your attention first. The email handle looked to be a bot, but the subject line stated: hurry. An image was attached and you almost hesitated to open it.

“Fuck,” you whispered as you stared at a grainy image that was clearly Kate and Yelena in some come of abandoned warehouse. Below was a location that you knew you had no training to go to yourself. You scrambled with your phone to call Natasha, while forwarding the email to Melina, but she didn’t pick up.

“Come on, come on,” you hissed as you paced your apartment and tried again. Nothing. “Fuck!” You tried Steve and got nothing. You tried Wanda and got nothing. You tried every single person you could think of until you became aware of how much time had passed since getting the email. No one was picking up and you had no idea why, which left only you.

You ran a shaking hand through your hair as you scanned your apartment for any hint of what to do and landed on an opened drawer you hadn’t noticed before. Paranoid, you warrily stalked towards the drawer and found a black handgun inside with a sticky note on top inscribed with the letter Y. After all her insistence of you getting a gun, she had gotten one for you.

You should’ve called the police, let them handle the situation. But what if they didn’t get there in time? You didn’t have time to keep thinking about the what ifs, so instead, you grabbed the gun and left the apartment. On your way down, you called the police, giving them a brief rundown of what you thought was happening and shared the address with them, hanging up before they could query much more.

Calling a cab once outside, you tried phoning each of the avengers again as the car started towards the warehouse. It wasn’t unusual for all of the avengers to go on a mission together, but something about the timing of it didn’t sit right with you. You couldn’t linger on what you couldn’t control though, instead forcing yourself to come up with some kind of plan. You came up blank.

I’m just a hacker, I should get this guy to turn around and let the police deal with it. You thought. But what if they got there too late? What if you got the call and news you had nightmares about receiving. You couldn’t lose them. You reminded yourself of that when the warehouse came into view and instructed the driver to stop round the corner.

Your heart rattled against your ribcage as you stood outside the warehouse and pulled your gun from inside your jacket. This is so goddamn reckless, you thought as you inched the main door open and slipped inside. You kept low, scanning the area for any signs of life. It was unnervingly quiet. Every step you took, no matter how gentle, bounced off of the walls. I really shouldn’t be here.

Natasha leant forwards as she scanned over the email she had just received from Melina. “What’s up?” Yelena asked as she watched her sister’s brow furrow. Natasha showed her screen to the blonde who frowned as she took in the image of her and Kate in a location she couldn’t recall ever having been in with the archer.

“It’s from Melina. Y/n forwarded it to her,” Natasha explained as she looked through the text. “Apparently Kate told her you were on a mission there.” The pair paused, their brains connecting the same dots as Yelena pulled up Kate’s contact while Nat pulled up yours. Kate picked up, you didn’t.

“Kate Bishop, did you tell y/n we are on a mission?” Yelena demanded as she looked to her sister, seeing that you weren’t answering.

“No? Why?” The archer asked. Yelena cursed in Russian.

“Get ahold of her now,” she ordered and hung up. “You don’t think she’s gone there?” Yelena questioned, though they were both already grabbing their jackets.

“I do,” Natasha confirmed. “God, she’s an idiot.”

The hands that held the handgun in front of you were shaking and you knew it wasn’t just because of the cold. But with every step you took, you reminded yourself that Yelena and Kate had to be around the space somewhere and that you needed to get to them before someone else did. You had hoped to have heard the sirens already too.

“Long time no see,” you spun around on the spot, your eyes flickering across the space in the direction of the voice that you could never forget. “Hey, baby,” Rae greeted as she stepped out from behind a stack of crates, a menacing axe hanging loosely by her side. She sauntered towards you, an easy grin on her lips as you stood frozen.

“What? I don’t get a hello after all this time?” She asked with a fake pout.

“What are you…what?” You stared at the raven haired woman who you foolishly assumed you would never see again.

“How am I? Oh, I’m great thanks for asking, even after that stunt you pulled,” she hissed, continuing to stalk the area around you. “That got me in a lot of trouble, you know? All because you wanted to be selfish bitch,” as she spoke, she let the axe drop against the floor and scrape against the concrete next to her as she moved. You eyed the weapon warily, knowing you should use your own.

“Don’t you have anything to say?” You didn’t. You couldn’t rake your brain for anything to say to the woman before you. “No apology for abandoning your girlfriend?”

“Fuck you,” you hissed, taking you both by surprise. Rae chuckled, bemused by the agitation you had never shown her when you were together.

“Where was that bit of fight back when you needed it?” She asked with a mocking grin that made your stomach twist. Your hands began to rattle again as images of your past flashed in front of your eyes.

No, you couldn’t think about that. You couldn’t let her succeed in getting into your head.

“Shut up,” you tried to shout, but your voice wavered. Rae grinned more.

“Or what? You gonna shoot me? You never fought back when I hit you, or when I fucked you.”

“Stop!” You managed to yell, though the tears threatening to spill through didn’t help.

“Maybe all those times you said no you actually wanted it.”

You fired. And missed. Rae was faster than you remembered her being, within a second she knocked the gun out of your hands and made you stumble to the floor. Your back collided with the dark concrete though you didn’t feel the pain of the impact because you were too concerned with putting as much distance between you and Rae as you could when she was sauntering towards you. She chuckled as she watched you try to scramble away.

“I knew you would come here when I sent you that email,” she told you. “You always were so curious, sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. But you know what they say, baby, curiosity killed the cat,” she warned you in such a tell-tale way that didn’t expect her to bring the axe down on your leg a second later.

You screamed as the searing pain shot from your calf where the axe was embedded. Rae pulled the blade out with a grunt and you immediately made to get up until she swung again at your unguarded back, knocking what left like every last breath out of you. You collapsed and forced yourself onto your back to look up at Rae and try to dodge her next move. The weapon was heavy, she wouldn’t be able to be agile with it.

“You have no idea what consequences your fuck up had for me,” she told you, her anger coming to the surface in a way you couldn’t avoid. She brought the axe down again and you were unable to dodge it entirely, instead having it lodged in your side. You howled in agony, feeling the blade dig into your ribs so prominently that you didn’t even notice how wet the back of your shirt was with blood.

“The things I had to endure as punishment,” Rae continued as she pulled the axe free, taking what felt like a pound of your flesh with her. “I’ve waited years to give you your fair share of the pain, the least you could do is accept it.” You didn’t feel where the next hit fell. You only felt your body shake with the impact and the grotesque sound of it embedding itself in you.

“The…police…will come,” you struggled to tell her with a mouth full of blood that came bubbling up from your throat. When you heard her laugh in response, you knew you were fucked.

“Same way the Avengers will? You didn’t call the police, malysh. No one’s coming for you,” she told you, bringing the axe down again.

Natasha and Yelena didn’t exchange a single word as they stood either side of the entrance door. They had been through situations like that one enough times to rehearse it in their sleep and that was what they reminded themselves as they exchanged a swift nod: that it was a standard rescue mission. The moment they let it get personal was when mistakes would be made and they couldn’t afford any.

The Russian’s scanned the vast room as they stalked amongst the crates with long since faded brand imprints. Their footsteps were silent as they listened out for a single pin drop, anything to indicate where you could be. They didn’t hear a thing, though Natasha’s voice was the one to break through the tension.

“Get Stark down here now,” she ordered.

“What? What have you found?” Yelena asked as met her sister’s unnerved eyes and tried to look at the space she had come from.

“Yelena,” Natasha warned with a firm hand to the blonde’s chest.

“No, what is it?” She tried, shoving her sister away only for her to be pushed back in response.

“Don’t look,” Natasha pleaded. The waver in her voice made Yelena pause for a brief moment before she charged on to look around the other side of the crates, stumbling upon what she found.

“It’s alright,” Natasha assured, trying to reflect her confidence in her tone but it was difficult when she didn’t feel it herself. Yelena hardly heard, her focus entirely on the pool of crimson. “Stark has the technology to scan the area for her, she can’t be far,” the redhead continued as she placed a hand on Yelena’s hand, wanting her away from the scene you had left them.

Even as the blonde allowed herself to be turned around, the image of the deep red splatters stained into the crates several metres away from the main puddle lingered behind Yelena’s eyes. She didn’t listen as her sister called her billionaire friend, far too stuck in her own head and wondering what state she would find you in - because she would find you.

“Thanks, Tony,” Natasha said as she hung up the phone and took an anxious glance towards her sister. “He’ll be here in ten,” she told Yelena who didn’t respond. The redhead cursed internally, feeling the weight of the moment settle on both of their stomachs.

She had been too harsh with you that night, saying things she didn’t mean just as you had but making you suffer for it all the same, just because she could see that Yelena was. Natasha knew, then more than ever, that you would never set out to hurt her little sister, not when you were so quick to blindly save her. She would tell you all that when she saw you again, she promised herself.

Natasha was interrupted from those thoughts when her phone vibrated once in her hand. The redhead looked at her screen and saw she had a message from an unknown number. Frowning, she opened the text and immediately felt an anchor tied around her guts drop. On the screen was an image of you in the back of an unclear car, unconscious, shirt stained scarlet. There were wounds she couldn’t examine properly because bile was rising in her throat and she didn’t want her sister to notice. She couldn’t see that picture. Ever.

The redhead’s sickness subsided the moment she read the text beneath the picture, moving aside for the anger that began to rise and threatened to bubble over the surface. Natasha took a deep breath to steady herself as she glared at the screen, resisting the impulse to snap the device in half.

Too late : (

Stay calm, recall what you know.

That was what Natasha had taught you when you first met. She had taught you a lot, but in that moment that lesson was the only one you were capable of recalling.

You were fluctuating between consciousness. You were in the trunk of a car. You were being taken. You were badly injured. It was Rae.

Rae… the pain she had inflicted was unlike anything you thought was possible to experience. You had no idea how many times she had swung that axe down on you, some parts of your body hurt more than others, but there was an inescapable alarm going off amongst your nerves and major organs telling you that it was bad. Really really fucking bad.

She had hit muscle and bone, but you were unsure what else had been punctured. You knew that the blood in your mouth meant something critical had been attacked, but it couldn’t be something so significant because you were acutely aware of the fact that you were still alive. You may very well be dying, just not yet.

It would be okay, someone would come for you. You just weren’t sure they would come in time.

#marvel #dark!marvel #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova #yelena belova imagine #natasha romanoff #kate bishop

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justanamesstuff · 1 year

Text

Unrequited love? - Matty Healy

Part 5 of Unrequited love...

A/N: I'm not so suuure about this part, let me know what you think! THANK YOU FOR ALL THE SUPPORT ♥♥♥

Warnings: angsty feelings, anxiety, typos.

Word count: 2.5k

Blog masterlist

Y/n had been working all morning as a way to silence her anxiety. The boys left almost one month ago, almost a week ago she started to miss them even more. Y/n was happy for them, doing what they love most, but also she worried about them overworking themselves, especially Matty. He always wanted to give his best at every single concert.

During those weeks apart, Y/n and Matty found time to talk regularly, even with the different time zones getting in the way. From a few weeks prior, she noticed he wasn’t doing entirely fine, even when he tried time and time again to reassure Y/n. She knew best.

Y/n moved rhythmically her legs, she couldn’t keep herself still. The coffee she drank before work wasn’t helping at all to ease her nerves. Her stomach twisted with the mere thought of Matty not doing okay and lying to her.

Matty usually shared with her his deepest thoughts. Although, every time they were miles and miles apart he formed a facade so Y/n didn’t worry about him. This wasn’t the first time.

That’s why Y/n chose to test another way, the plan B. As soon as she woke up, Y/n sent a text to George saying she needed to ask him something. He agreed to it, but first they had the soundcheck. Y/n had been counting the minutes for his call to came through.

Y/n was in the middle of replying to an email, when her phone started to vibrate on her desk. Like a reflex move, Y/n picked it up. She told a lame excuse to her coworker and ran to the bathroom.

“Hi.” Y/n answered the call, locking the door behind her.

“Hi, Y/n/n!” George greeted her. There were no more sounds than his voice coming from his side, he was probably in some room alone. “How are you?”

Y/n bit her nails, thinking a good way to ask him. “I’m good, G. How are you?”

“Me or Matty?” he teased her.

“Both.”

G dropped his joking tone, noticing Y/n was worried. “I’m good…” George said, suspiciously.

“How is he? Tell me the truth, G. I know he’s lying to me.” Y/n almost begged.

Y/n’s heart picked up when George took his time to answer. He was thinking really hard about his next words, which alerted Y/n.

George let a bit breathe out, “He’s not doing fine, I’m sorry to tell you…”

“How bad?”

“Um, jet lag is taking the best of us all, we landed safely, but he had problems to check in at the hotel. Fans are outside the hotel and some are guests as well. Add to the mix, all the shit they’re talking about him.”

“Shit George.”

Y/n was ashamed to admit she had spent hours scrolling through TikTok and Instagram, reading comments. She wasn’t oblivious to the fact that most of those hating him and saying an entire spectrum of insults weren’t fans. Although she was sure Matty read those. None of them knew the true Matty, and her heart swell with him reading those lies.

“I know, I’m trying my best to help him but…I feel like I’m not doing enough-” George admitted out loud for him and for Y/n.

“That’s not true!”

The boys –and the whole crew in reality– functioned as a group, as a family, and they care a lot for each other. Y/n was sure they were doing the absolutely best to help Matty.

“I’m not so sure, Y/n.”

“George, I bet all of you…are doing your absolutely best. Not only to support him, but all the band as well.” she reassured him.

“Yeah…but he’s my best mate, I feel the need to do more…”

“What else could you do?”

“There’s something I’d been thinking about.” his tone made her pulse jump.

“Okay?”

George went straight to the point, “I think you should come.”

“You think that would help? I’d love to, but-“

G cut her short. “He listens to you, Y/n.” he was right, but she had a few doubts this time.

“May I remind you that he’s lying to me about all of this?” Y/n protested.

“Because he knows you would worry, as you’re doing.” G was right time again.

“Yeah, he’s my best-“

“Bullshit.” he was reaching a new point of annoy with Matty and Y/n dancing around each other.

“Shut up, George.” Y/n was way too busy worrying to think about her feelings.

“Okay, that’s another conversation.” George gave her that. “I’m begging, not asking, literally begging for you to come. I’ll pay the ticket-“ he continued with his position.

“Okay, okay…you don’t need to beg or tell me twice. Let me see when I can-“ Y/n said, thinking how to move things around with work to travel as soon as she can.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” George chanted.

—————————————————

Y/n walked through the halls of the fancy hotel room, with the boys hot on her heels. They already told her the number of room he was staying, so she was heading there.

Once she found it, Y/n stopped in front of the door. She lifted her hand on a fist, ready to knock, but something stopped her.

She glanced behind her, founding the three grown up men expecting her next action.

“Do you mind?” Y/n asked, trying to suppress a smile.

“Oh!” Ross opened his eyes wide.

Adam’s cheeks turning red, grabbing Ross and George by the arm to drag them far away. “Sorry!”

Y/n shook her head, returning her sight to the door’s number.

“Good luck!” she heard George’s voice far from her.

Y/n laughed, muttering, “Boys.”

With the only thought occupying her mind about Matty being at the other side, she knocked strongly once.

“Yes?” Matty wondered from the other side.

Y/n couldn’t help to smile, “Me.” she simply said, hoping that he understood who she was.

The door swung open, revealing the curly boy standing with a surprised expression. He was staring at her form, trying to understand if she was a product of his imagination or Y/n was in fact standing there.

“What are you doing here?” Matty managed to ask.

Y/n took his appearance in. Matty had his hair pointing to every single angle possible, his chest was bare, his tattoos in all its glory, and he was only wearing sweatpants hanging low.

“Hello to you too, Healy!” she joked about his greeting.

Before Y/n could move a muscle, Matty engulfed her in a hug. Her body stiff at first after the sudden movement, even though she immediately melted inside his arms.

“Oh, baby…” Y/n exclaimed. Letting her hands rest on his back, caressing the skin there softly.

“Are you really here?” Matty whispered from her neck.

She comforted him, “I am.”

“You talked with the boys?”

“George.” Y/n only mentioned his bandmate name.

“Mmm.”

The sound of people leaving one room at the end of the hall, startled Y/n.

“I think it’s better if we get inside…” Y/n suggested.

Matty showed his face again, staring at her eyes, “Sorry.”

Y/n felt how Matty took her hand on one hand and the handle of her bag on the other.

*****************************************************************************************

Without letting go of her hand, Matty took Y/n directly to the balcony. The small space was occupied by a nice outside couch with room for both of them.

Y/n was laying with Matty’s back facing her front, he was between her spread legs with his head resting on her chest. His messy curls were temping enough for her to run her hands through them.

They had fallen into a comfortable silence after Y/n told him all about her journey to get there. Making big gestures and mimicking some old lady being annoying, she wanted to cheer Matty up, and it was working.

“Feeling better?” Y/n asked, looking down at his face. Matty had his eyes closed, enjoying her touch.

“So much better.” he admitted.

“Am I that powerful?”

Matty was too gone to suppress his words from coming out, “You know you have that power over me.”

Y/n wasn’t sure what to say about it. She tried to joke as a way out, “I think Adam has more power over you.”

“Nah.”

Y/n though about the long month apart, Matty was her best friend before anything else. He was a constant in her life, and every time he had to leave it broke her. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, darling.” Matty glanced up to her face, without moving from his spot.

“Are you going to spill what’s going on inside this little ratty head?” Y/n titled her head, staring at his beautiful eyes.

Matty couldn’t maintain it, his face facing away from her. “My head is not little.” he pouted.

“Matty-“

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you…” he touched the side of her leg, distracting himself from the unsettling feelings inside him.

“It’s okay, Matty.” Y/n said caring. “I’m here now, you can tell me.”

“It’s been all…a lot.”

“What do you mean by all?”

“The travelling, the aeroplanes, the hotels, the time zones, the concerts, media coverage and…” he stopped suddenly.

“And?”

“And you were at the other side of the world.” Matty mumbled, feeling embarrassed. He hated himself to sound like such an idiot, such a child.

“Home it’s not that far…” Y/n tried.

“It was…now you’re here.” Matty said. Saying those words calmed him more than he was able to admit.

“Matty-“

He continued without stopping for a single minute, “I’ve been thinking about your birthday…and the evening before I left.” he let Y/n know.

“Why?” Y/n let her hands travel from his hair to his chest.

Matty shivered under her touch. “You know why.”

“No, tell me.” she encouraged him, tracing the lines of the tattoo adoring the centre of his chest.

“I think it is obvious.” Matty was scared to speak everything going inside his head. He wanted to tell her, but the rational part of his brain was trying to stop him.

“No.” Y/n tried to keep an external collected look, messing a little with him.

“You just want me to say it…” Matty groaned, hiding his face behind his hands.

Y/n let her face buried inside his hair. “Maybe.”

“Little shit!” Matty stated, turning around inside her arms.

Y/n gasped at his words, “What did you just call me?” her eyes were wide open as well as her mouth.

Matty stared at her eyes, placing his hands on her hips, pinning Y/n on the couch. “I’ve been thinking about every single time we almost…” he said with his voice lowering a tone.

“Almost?” Y/n couldn’t help herself to keep messing with him.

“You’re enjoying this way too much.” Matty exposed her, slowly approaching his face.

Y/n moved around, so her body was resting fully on the couch. “Finish your sentence, Healy.” she dared him.

“We almost kiss.” Matty stopped at half way.

“And what you think about it?” Y/n traced the skin from his strong arms to his neck slowly, grabbing his curls when she reached her destination.

“Did you want me- want me to-“ Matty stuttering, distracted by her hands.

“Yes.” Y/n said, directly to his eyes.

Matty lowered another inch, “I didn’t finish.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“Did you really wanted to kiss me?” Matty inquired.

The singer let his whole body rest on top of hers, trying not to crush Y/n at the same time. Their foreheads were directly touching. Feeling him so close was a pleasure she never felt with someone else. Y/n breath deeply.

“Matty-”

“Because I’ve been dying to kiss you.“ Matty openly confessed, wetting his lips drawing her attention to them.

Y/n brought him down all the way, finally kissing him. Matty let his right-hand travel to hold her jaw while his lips attack Y/n’s. The tempo of the kiss was rather slow and calm, although Y/n felt how her entire body was burning up.

Matty pushed up, detaching his lips, when he felt the lack of air. Y/n opened her eyes slowly.

“Yes, I might have been thinking about it a lot lately.” she replied to his earlier question.

“Y/n.” Matty whispered, feeling like everything was a little better after kissing her. “You really mean it?” he needed to be sure, Matty needed her to tell him.

“Matty Healy is feeling insecure because of…me?” Y/n brushed their noses slowly.

Matty frowned, “I swear…”

Y/n took advantaged, chuckling, pecking his lips a couple of times repeatedly. “I do, Matty. I didn’t though you felt the same way.” Y/n bit her lips, without looking at his eyes.

“There's no one else.”

“I bet there’s a long line of girls waiting-“

“You know how I mean it, Y/n.” Matty tried to soothe her worries.

Y/n dared to return her sight to his hazelnut eyes. “I do.”

“What about you?”

She furrowed her eyes, trying to get what he was asking, “What?”

“What about John?” Matty tested the waters. The pink tone appearing at his cheeks made her chuckled.

“What about him?” Y/n touched his rosy cheeks.

Matty plopped down, hiding his face on her neck, “Are you a thing…went out with the twat?”

He waited for her answer with his heart in his hand. Feeling immediately better when Y/n spoke.

“No, I never replied when he asked me out.”

Matty laugh, making her neck tickled. “Baby, that’s mean!” him calling her that warmed her inside.

“I was hooked up with someone else. Sorry!” Y/n stated, making Matty come from his hiding spot.

“How’s the lucky man?” he wiggled his eyebrows.

“You and the man thing.” Y/n placed her hand on his face, pushing delicately. Matty blew a raspberry on her palm, so she took it out.

“So, I am the one you fell for?” Matty smirked, returning to be inches away from her lips.

“Don’t be so smugly, Healy.” Y/n turned her face to a side, feeling shy.

Matty drew a path of kisses from her neck towards her cheek. “No one is going to stop me. I just kiss, for the first time, the girl I lo- like…nothing is stopping me!”

“Such a boy.” Y/n returned her attention to his loving eyes.

Matty faked being offended by her words once more, “Take that back.”

“Make me.” she dared him.

“Oh, I will, sweetheart!”

Matty started to tickled her sides until she was a mess under him. They returned to kiss once more when she calmed down. Y/n thought she could get used to kiss him, and Matty was aware he was already addicted to her taste.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tagging: @jagz72 @deamus-liv @mrspeacem1nusone @sofaritsalrightt @soci4lc4sualty @thefemininemystiquee @hswannaknow @louweasleymalfoy @indierockgirrl

(let me know if you want to be tagged)

#matty healy #matty healy fic #george daniel #the 1975 #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy x reader #matty healy fanfic #matty healy imagine #matty healy x y/n #unrequited love #matty healy blurb #matty x you #matty x reader #matty x y/n #adam hann #ross macdonald #matthew healy #matty healy the 1975 #matty 1975

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redrose10 · 29 days

Note

Hi, Since there are few stories about Hoseok, I would like to request #5, #21, #46. I'm curious to see what kind of story you can came up with Thanks.

This is the last request I have. Thank you everyone that sent one. I really like working on shorter stories like this. They keep my mind busy without stressing me out.

I’m sorry this one took so long. This was a good one that really stumped me. I hope this is okay!

#5 Why are you helping me?

#21 Sometimes being a complete nerd comes in handy

#46 What happens if I do this?

Warnings: None

Disclaimer: I’m pretty sure recalling an email is fairly simple but for the sake of this let’s just pretend it isn’t

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The headline read, ‘Ruthless CEO, Y/N, making a name for themselves regardless of who they tear down.’ You knew it was meant to be negative or even hurtful but you saw it as motivation because they technically weren’t wrong and you would ruin whomever or whatever you had in order to benefit your company.

Amongst your team you were known for your cold demeanor, harsh words, and demanding temper. Unfortunately your assistant, Hoseok, took the brunt of that.

“Good morning Y/N, I emailed you your schedule for today. You’ll get reminders 15 minute before each of your meetings. I cancelled your lunch with Kim Namjoon just like you asked. I also dropped off your dry cleaning and will pick it up tomorrow morning. You also have a dinner party tomorrow night with Kim Seokjin”, he said before placing your usual cup of coffee down in front of you.

You took a sip before spitting out the hot liquid, “What the hell is this? This tastes like caramel. You know I hate caramel.”

“Oh I am so sorry Miss. I must’ve grabbed the wrong cup by mistake. I’ll get a new one here right away.”, he said frantically opening the app to order a new cup to be delivered.

“Just forget it. I’ll do without a coffee for today. Just get me something from the vending machine. If you can handle that.”, you glared at him.

Apologetically he backed out of the room to make a beeline for the vending machine area.

“Rough day.”, his coworker Yoongi asked walking up next to him who just nodded as he looked through the drink options.

“I don’t know why you still work here Hobi. You’re way to nice to put up with someone like that.”, Yoongi said.

“I don’t know. The pay is good.”, he chuckled, “Plus I’m kind of used to it by now. I don’t think I’d know how to work for someone who wasn’t yelling at me. And she means well. I know she just wants what’s best.” Yoongi shook his head but accepted that answer and returned to his desk.

A couple minutes later Hoseok returned to give you an iced tea from the vending machine only to find you panicking and frantically clicking away at your computer screen while mumbling about how your life was over.

“Y/N what’s wrong?”, he asked setting the drink down next to you.

“I’m such an idiot.”, you groaned, “I got this stupid email from the head of our biggest competitor about meeting for dinner and I typed up a snarky response in anger calling him a dumb stupid smelly pimple on an alligator’s butt and I was supposed to delete it but I sent it by accident. This is going to look so bad and bring so much negative press when he reads that. He’ll surely go to the media.”

You slammed your head down on the desk feeling defeated.

Hoseok chuckled before he cleared his throat, “I can help you.”

Your head snapped back up, “What?”

He smiled, “Sometimes being a complete nerd comes in handy. I can delete the email from his system like it never happened.”

He asked for permission to use your computer and after you approved he began typing away.

As you watched him work diligently to save you, you realized how horrible you had been to him over the years and yet he still didn’t hesitate to help you.

“Hoseok, Why are you helping me?”, you whispered feeling very small and apologetic.

While still working his lips curled into a smile, “I like to help others. I know that you don’t mean to come off so aggressive and you only do it because you want to be as successful as possible. Aaannnddd I don’t think I’ll get paid nearly as much elsewhere if this company were to go under because you called someone a pimple on an alligator’s butt.”

You sat back and chuckled as you watched him continue to type away.

He stood away to research something on his phone real quick which when you moved the mouse to a bright red colored box, “What happens if I do this?”

“Uhhh the computer will explode.”

Really?!”, you asked with wide eyes.

“No, it’ll just cancel out everything I just did so please don’t press it.”

A couple minutes later and he stood back proud of himself, “There! The email is deleted like nothing ever happened. Even if he managed to read it already there is no proof anywhere that it ever existed.”

“Thank you thank you thank you!”, you exclaimed wrapping your arms around him into a tight hug.

He cleared his throat making you back away instantly and smooth out your dress, “Thank you again Hoseok. How can I repay you? Maybe I can get a bonus thrown your way or something.”

He shook his head, “Firstly you can stop calling me Hoseok and call me Hobi.”

You nodded, “Okay, done.”

“And let me take you out for dinner.”, he said with a smile.

“Are you asking me on a date?”, you questioned feeling your cheeks heat up.

“We can decide what to call it when we see how we feel afterwards.”, he shrugged before walking into the hallway making you even more intrigued by your nerdy life saving assistant Hobi.

#bts #bts fanfic #bts x reader #hobi x reader #bts hobi #hoseok #hobi #jung hoseok #bts jhope #jhope

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yourfatherlucifer · 1 year

Text

Comatose (Jongho) Pt 2 [final]

Mafia!Choi Jongho x fem!reader

>> Being the lover of mafia member Choi Jongho had it perks and downfalls, you were allowed to stay in a lavish mansion with 8 beautiful men, including your man, who stayed by your side when he wasn’t on the job. However, when one day you are on a date with said lover, a member of Ateez’s rival gang shoot’s you...what will happen next?<<

(This one shot includes violence, so warning and angst, and fluff. It’s a roller coaster, it’s a mafia one shot, there’s more I just don’t know what other warnings I should add)

(Monsta X make an appearance)

(Monsta X used to be Ateez alliance but are now enemies)

"Hongjoong, it's all my fault, I should've had more security detail!" Jongho, the chestnut haired held his hands in fists, staring at his leader, with such anger and failure in his eyes.

His leaders eyes had softened and wrapped his arms around the younger man, "It's not your fault, how could've you known that Monsta X would show up. You worry about your lover, while we figure out how they knew you were there."

Jongho nodded, toughening up his act, he had to stay strong for the love of his life, and for his reputation. Can’t let anyone know the youngest member of Ateez is actually a softie underneath this rough exterior.

Knocking on the door that his girlfriend was staying in, just to let anyone know who is inside, of his incoming presence.

Jongho noticed an older man in a white lab coat, hovering to the side with a clipboard, must be her assigned doctor.

"Hi, you must be the doctor, I'm Y/N's boyfriend, Choi Jongho."

The mention of his name sent a shiver down the doctors spine. Of course, it was one of the biggest mafia's member. Especially the mafia that even controlled this hospital.

"Right, of course. Well, I'm Dr. Lewis. Miss Y/N here, we don't have much to update her status. Except," Oh god, what was he gonna say? This worried the younger man to take a deep breath.

"She's in a comatose state. I'm very sorry. The bullets narrowly missed her spine, but still hit too close for comfort. We had to place her in this state to prevent further damage." The doctor placed the clipboard back on the edge of her bed and stared at her lover before continuing.

"We hope that she can awaken by the end of the week. If not, she may not awaken for awhile. I can say in good news though, that the surgery went well without a hitch."

He approached Jongho and nervously held a card out to him. "If you have any further questions, you can contact me with this number or email."

When the doctor finally left, Jongho collapsed to his knees right next to her bed, "Oh, my love, what have I done. I should've protected you better." He grasped her hand in his, pulling it next to his face.

"I am so sorry, please come back to me. I cannot bear to see you like this. It breaks my heart."

His sobs were released onto her hand.

He could never be this vulnerable in front of anyone but her.

Jongho had fallen asleep in the chair that was placed next to Y/N’s bed.

Hearing a knock resonate in the room, he straightened up and stood up.

“Jongho? It’s us.” He had recognized his leaders voice so he calmed down and relaxed back into his seat.

He nodded, “Hi.” There wasn’t much emotion in his face.

“How is she?” San had stepped up to look at his unconscious friend.

Jongho held back his tears, reminding himself he cannot be vulnerable. “It’s not good. They placed her in a comatose.”

He stared at her lovingly, “They said if she doesn’t wake up by the end of this week. She may take a while to wake up.”

Mingi could see the desperation in his younger friends eyes, the worry for his unconscious lover.

Mingi walked up to Jongho, pulling him into an embrace not caring that Jongho didn’t like skinship, “I’m sorry, but we have good news, we’ll I wouldn’t say it’s good news. But it’s something.” As he let go of his younger friend, the tall male turned to their leader.

Hongjoong sighed, “Yeah. We found out how Monsta X knew you were there.”

As he sat down in an extra chair, he sighed before continuing, “It turns out they’ve been watching our every move. They figured out a weakness in our bonds. It was Y/N, they wanted to start a war so they were following you two,” Hongjoong could see Jongho tense up in frustration, “the plan was to take her out so we’d go to war with them. I’m not even sure this makes sense to you, Jjong, but it was their plan.”

“Then I say we should go to war with them. How dare they try to take away what’s most precious to me!” Jongho flared up in anger, clenching his fists.

However, they couldn’t just go to war with them.

There would be too many innocent casualties.

I felt trapped, like I couldn’t escape this void, why couldn’t I wake up? Why could I hear everything but couldn’t move?

Poor Jongho, I’m so sorry, I should’ve been faster, I should’ve been more careful. I shouldn’t have forced you to go somewhere with me.

I should have listened to you, we should’ve stayed in bed. Now I can’t do anything but lay in this darkness that entrapped me, I couldn’t even touch you. I just want to feel you. I need you. I feel so alone. I keep replaying those last moments before I was shot. It’s all I can think of. Your distraught voice calling out to me, on repeat.

Please save me, Haribo. I miss you. I wanna feel you. I want to hear your beautiful singing voice once again. I can only hear you crying to me everyday as I lay here. How long have I been here?

I want to see that little freckle on your neck, I love how you squirm when I touched it. Sometimes I wish we never met so you wouldn’t be going through this agony without me.

But I need you.

“Dr. Lewis, why hasn’t she woke up? It’s been longer than a week, I’m getting worried?” Jongho pumped his clenched fists.

“You’re not trying to sabotage anything, are you, doctor? Because that would be stupid to mess with me, or my lover.”

Jongho glared at the cowering doctor.

“N-no, sir! We’re not sure why she hasn’t awoken. Her brain scans are normal, she should’ve been awake by now.” The doctor was gripping the clipboard so tight that his knuckles were turning white.

“Well you better figure it out. Remember ateez runs this town. If something happens, your lif-“

“Jjong?”

“Y/N?”

Jongho rushed over to the beside so quickly like his life depended on it.

“Oh my god, you’re awake.”

The doctor quickly scrambled out of the room, leaving the pair alone.

“How..how long was I out?”

“Too long, love, too long.”

Jongho pulled me into an embrace, “ow! Careful, my back hurts!” I whined.

He chuckled at me. Rude.

“I’m just glad you’re awake, thank you for coming back to me. I missed you.”

“And I missed you, my sweet Haribo.”

#ateez jongho #ateez mafia #mafia ateez #mafia jongho x reader #ateez choi jongho #jongho x reader #ateez x reader

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harrytaylorluke · 10 months

Text

The boss ~ Louis Tomlinson (Prt 1)

Summary - Louis manages his own record label, known as a professional boss. His newest assistant may be the thing to finally break that purely professional reputation.

- no real warning, that’s for part 2 😏🙌🏻

~~~~~~~~~~

“This is your desk okay?” The slightly passive aggressive older woman, who looks like she’s only ever worked here, says. She’s looking at me like I’m an infant and she’s teaching me to use a spoon.

“This is your phone, you can eat lunch here or go out, it’s a half an hour break at 12:30, okay?” She’s nods her head at me like I’m 3.

“Yes Sheila, thank you for the help. Can I ask where the toilets are?”

“Yes my love, down the hall take a right. This here is Mr Tomlinsons office” she points to the door set into the wall across from us. The office is entirely black with massive windows, posters of celebrities taken here and record awards across the walls. His door has a small window in it, but I can already image his office being the size of my flat.

“He shouldn’t be disturbed, try not to go in unless he asks for you or you have something you know is of importance to him. He’s not really the, make friends with all the workers kind of boss, y’know?” She’s shrugs with a smile.

Everyone knew who he was, even if you didn’t like music. Coming from the biggest boy band in the world, to a massive solo career, to eventually creating his own record label before the age of thirty was one way to get respect. I didn’t even meet him in the interview, just two men in suits described as his “left hand men”, whatever that means.

Sitting down at my rather large desk, I’d been briefed on what to do in my second interview and in an email after getting the job.

I was to:

Answer any phone calls for Mr Tomlinson, put him through after asking if he is decent to speak.

Bring coffee and any other refreshments/ documents Mr Tomlinson may need.

Arrange meeting based on Mr Tomlinsons availability.

Inform Mr Tomlinson of these set meeting.

Discuss and assist him with transport and travel for every meeting he had.

Remind of important task and deadlines.

BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH… the list goes on. Menial tasks that when you have enough money, you pay someone to do for you. But by 10am, just an hour after coming in, I learned how busy one man can actually be. His calendar was booked, I was already getting emails and phone calls on whether he was available for podcasts, radio shows, interviews and even being sent the most random MP3 files that had been begged for him to listen to.

Overwhelming slightly, writing them all down as I had been told he wasn’t in the office yet. My palms were actually slightly sweaty, I was here because his four previous assistants had expressed “unacceptable behaviour of the sexual nature” to him and been fired rather quickly after that. I didn’t want to make a bad impression, like I was some crazy fan girl who signed up to the job to sleep with him.

At 10:30, he walks in and I soon understood why the sexual misconduct had occurred.

He walked with this confidence I’d never seen before, I guess that happens when a whole building full of people respect and want to impress you more than anyone else. He had these black skinny jeans on and a black hoodie, rather casual, suddenly making me feel overdressed in my knee length black dress and black wedges. It seemed to be how everyone in the office dressed except him, Sheila in a midi skirt and long sleeved top.

He was taller than I’d read about (of course I had to google him beforehand), looking at least 5,9/10, and his hair looked messily thrown and styled around his head. The smartest thing about him was his briefcase. My desk was right next to his office, whereas everyone else seemed to be more spread out. It was mostly just the most important men and women from marketing and business, there couldn’t have been more than five of us in the small area.

He smiled at them individually, some saying a polite hello and earning one back. He finally gets to my desk, looking down at me as I can feel myself getting a rush of anxiety. Do I put my hand out to shake it? I know I should introduce myself, right?

“Hiya, you must be y/n, I’m Louis” too late. He sticks his hand out as I rise from my seat doing the same, wanting to smooth my dress down but stopping myself. The rest of the room has gone back to work already, something unfamiliar to me coming from a drama filled, love a bit of gossip office. His hand is warm as it connects with my freezing one, he keeps eye contact and I realise I haven’t said anything yet.

“Hi, yeah I’m Y/N, I’m really looking forward to working with you” very professional, well done. He blinks and this cheeky, almost smirkish, type of smile spreads across his face.

“Just let me know if you need anything, it can get a bit hectic up here” he says, releasing my hand that I didn’t know was still holding his. Disappearing into his office, I’m feeling almost starstruck, but not like I’ve met a celebrity. Like I’ve actually been struck by a bolt of lightning.

Keeping my composure, I shake my head and get back on with my work of arranging meetings, he leaves his office once for lunch and other then bringing people in to for his meetings and the occasional coffee run, that’s the most I see of him till the next day.

~~ 6 weeks later ~~

He was right, it’s more hectic than I thought. People are constantly in and out either coming to see him or the other people in the shared space. The building is massive, right in the centre of London with at least 500 people working all across it. My office was on the very top floor where I could see all across London, making me feel less stir crazy when the seventh man that day had ‘told me to put my boss on the phone’ after I’d told him not twice already.

I’d actually learned Louis was rather friendly, he could be stern about something but not humiliate you over mistakes. I’d started going with the flow, taking my lunch break outside to the park three streets down and understanding who was important and who wasn’t. I learned how he liked his coffee, that he had a balcony attached to his office where he was allowed to smoke, what brand of cigarettes he did smoke, where to buy them and how often.

I was working late tonight, it was at least 8pm but I couldn’t get this schedule sorted. He had things overlapping, I also had to call people over in America who were just getting to work, rather than calling in the morning like I had been doing and finding out it was 7pm over there and they were long gone.

Being pitch black outside, I turned my lamp on for the first time since I’d gotten here. It dimly lit up my desk, the only other light coming from the street light, and Louis office. I never really knew how late he stayed, I knew he worked hard but I was always leaving by five and he was always still here.

“Yes sir, I’m wondering if we could rearrange your meeting with Louis Tomlinson? It’s currently on the 13 on January, however, I’ve noticed an overlap with another silent. Is the 17th of February possible for you?” I spoke down the phone to one of the owners of Sony, trying to be as polite as possible as, even though it was only November, I knew it wasn’t ideal to mess things around.

“Thank you sir, that’s great I’ll put that in the schedule…yes thank you, goodbye” I put the phone done, pulling town my seamless t-shirt I’d put on under my oversized knitted jumper for the day. Running my hands through my long, dark and now slightly wavy hair, after a day of pulling whereing off the straightening this morning.

“Y/n” my heart fell straight to my chair, startled and with a slight jump I looked to my left to find a smartly dressed, slightly stressed, Louis. His voice was deep and gravely, like he’d been talking and smoking for hours. The thick Doncaster accent coming out more than ever.

“Sorry didn’t mean to startle you” my body is turned towards him as he pokes half his body out of his large office door.

“Can I borrow you for a minute?” He says with a small smile, his blue eyes being lit up by my own office lamp.

“Yes, yes of course” I suddenly feel like I should put my jumper back on, not feeling quite as hot and bothered, or as alone, as I did the hour before. Scattering up, he waits for me to get to his door, holding it open for me. I pull my black, above the knee skirt down a little as I hear my heels clicking on the cream floor.

His office wasn’t as big as I’d expected, except for the massive balcony, it was rather cozy. He had sheets spread out across his desk with a warm beige lamp sat on the corner. With two leather chairs in front, one more comfortable looking one in the corner and his own brown leather one behind his desk. The room had a few plants in that i’d been asked to water every few days that somehow managed to get enough sunlight with the floor to ceiling windows across his back wall.

He sits on his chair as I pull one of the spare ones to his side. “What can I help with” I ask, looking at the chaotic mess on his desk.

“Right so” he begins, leaning down a little and picking up a piece of paper. “These kids are coming, some band called ‘The Health Fiasco’ whatever that is suppose to represent” he continues shaking his hand in the air, I laugh slightly. “They’re trying to make me come all the way to bloody Australia, when I’ve got a meeting in New York the day before?” He looks at me with a ‘wtf’ kind of face.

“Right well, one, stupid name means stupid band” I say, earning a laugh and a shake of his head. “Let me look at your schedule again” I say reaching over him.

I soon realize just how close our chairs were, our knees were slightly touching and I could feel how close he was to me when I reached over. Feeling slightly embarrassed and hoping to God he didn’t think I was pulling a move, I sat back in my seat. Staring over the paper in my hand when I feel him tap the top of my knee over and over again with the palm of his hand as he says “hold on you may need this” whilst handing me another piece of paper with his 2024 schedule on it.

He leans over my shoulder slightly and I can smell his aftershave mixed with the cigarettes and coffee I’d got him a few hours ago. His hand gently rubs against mine as he hands me the paper.

“So” he clears his throat slightly, “the flight to New York is at 8am and I’ve also got meeting all through Friday” his long, tattooed fingers run down the paper in front of me. Stop thinking about his fingers god y/n, he’s your boss for god sake this man has control of my livelihood.

“Yeah well we could move Sony around but I did just rearrange with him once” I say looking up, something I wish I hadn’t done.

His face, more specifically his lips, were impossibly close to me. He had leant in to see the paper next to me and now I could basically feel his breath on my face.

“Um, yeah, yes” he stuttered out “let’s not rearrange that again” he seemed..nervous? He hadn’t moved away yet and neither had I. Looking into his impossibly blue eyes, I could feel my heart getting a little faster. I was definitely reading this wrong, I was praying this wasn’t putting thoughts in his head of me being like his last assistant. The money was too good to loose this job.

“Anyway” I say, moving away quickly as he did the same with a deep breath. “Maybe we can move some of those meeting to the next day so you’re not as jet lagged”

We carried on like the world hadn’t stopped for those few seconds, talking business like I wasn’t thinking about being over his desk with him right behind me. He was hot, but I’d never let myself think like this, I knew the rules and the consequences.

9pm roles around, after me calling and moving people around with him in his office. “We should probably leave it at that, maybe look at these other issues with fresh eyes” ,with my hands in my hair and Louis with his head practically on the desk with how frustrated we both were. It was neither of our mistakes, he just had to much going on to fit it all in.

“Yeah alright” he says puffing out air between his lips and pushing the papers into a pile in the corner. I stand up, getting my stuff together on my desk outside. Putting my jumper back on, my long wool coat and turning my lamp off, I’m about ready to go, and it looks like Louis is to.

“Got anything going on tonight?” I thought he wasn’t friends with his coworkers? This was new territory.

“Just gonna make some dinner and fall asleep probably, what about you” I say, pushing the lift button.

“Smoke, eat, sleep” he shrugs. Riding down in the elevator, I lie against the wall across from him. It’s not awkward, just a little tense. I feel like we’re both thinking about the same thing, each other.

He looks so good today too, he’d had a big meeting and dressed up for it. This black tight fitting shirt with dress pants and a loose fitting jacket. His hair was still the same, just a little less messy. The harsh elevator light flashed as I stood thinking about the man across from me, something I planned on doing most of the night.

The elevator opens, we walk out together, our cars two spaces apart from each other. His being an Aston Martin and mine a black ford.

As we walk, I can feel us getting closer together, most likely because we’re walking to the same place, but I can feel the tension getting weird again.

“Thanks for staying late, and for all that help” he says stopping in front of my car and facing me, his shoulder could be rubbing against mine if he got an inch closer, dangling his keys in his hand.

“It’s not problem, I actually really enjoy it” why am I chatting on, get in the car and go home already.

We’re just looking at each other, the two street lights in the car park make it dimly lit. It’s like we’ve been on a first date and we’re trying to figure out if we’re having a good night kiss or not.

My skin feels like it’s burning the way he looks at me, like if he touched me I’d explode. “That’s good to hear, you’re doing a great job, I’d struggle to live without you now I think” we both share a chuckle as we inch towards our cars, still as close as ever.

Why can’t we stop fucking looking at each other, what is wrong with me, get in the fucking car already for christ sake.

But then he touches my arm, and I’m done for. He doesn’t just touch it, he grazes it with his hand, I almost think it’s a kind of ‘proud of you’ rub of the arm, that’s sweet and innocent, one you’d give a friend when they get a new job or finish something they started months ago. But it’s not, it’s gentle and goes down to my hand where our fingertips touch slightly. I can feel him staring at my face, maybe to gain a reaction, but all I can look at is that hand of his touching my covered arm. I play with his fingers slightly with mine, somehow getting a some sort of confidence.

I think about how I got here, this morning I was excepting a normal day, maybe be home a little late, watch some crap movie, sleep and do it all over again. Now he was the one looking at our hands, mine moving slowly and gently between his, before he starts doing it back. We’re like two 16 year olds who’ve never been this close to someone before.

I want to say something, but I think it’ll spoil it.

We’re both breathing silently, cars and people are going past in the street but I’m positive no one can see us, even if we weren’t doing more than 16 year olds do.

Our fingers interlock as he moves forward slightly. It’s nothing and I can barely breath. His hair is close to touching the top of mine as we both stare down at this contact that, to put it frankly, is getting me hornier than I’ve been in months.

Pulling my hand from his, I push it up his sleeve, moving myself close to get higher up. The closer I get to him, the closer his hand gets to my hip. It’s inches away and all I want is for him to rest it there. He goes under my coat with his hand, grabbing my side less delicately than he did my hand. My cold hand is rubbing circles under his sleeve and I knew if I lifted my head, my night would be set.

It’s been less than two minutes of this back and forth in silence, it’s intimate yet we’re stood in the middle of one of the biggest cities in the world. My head is lifting slightly, his head being above mine, almost resting his cheek on the side of my head at this point. I can feel in his body he knows this isn’t right, that it’s unfair to fire so many women for one reason and then disregard another for the same issue.

I just don’t think either of us could control ourselves, I finally lifted my head fully, looking into his eyes. His hand gripped me harder, our lips millimeters apart, moving as slow as possible, they meet slightly. Moving our heads up and down slightly, lips touching gently, like neither of us wants to be the one who truly made the mistake of interlocking our lips.

We give up, connecting them fully, my hand shooting up to his hair, tangling my finger in the sides. He takes both his arms around my waist, lifting me up to my tip toes where I wrap my other arm around his neck. His lips are warm, soft and delicious. You can taste the coffee I’d slipped on his desk just hours before mixed with the cigarettes he’d smoked while we were working. It was slow, but so intense, it’s like it had awakened these feelings I didn’t know I felt.

His hand finds it’s way to just below my throat, his fingers spread over my collar bones as his thumb gently tips my chin up, opening up my mouth. His other hand is firmly around my waist, pressing me against him. Slipping his tongue past my lips, he deepens the kiss. The world feels like it’s spinning, like we should be doing this every second of everyday.

His hand replaces itself onto my waist, turning me around as he backs me up into the side of my car. It’s hot, it’s intense and it’s getting faster.

“Fuck” I hear him say under his breath, pulling away slightly and looking down. I press my hips up towards him as his hands support the bottom of my back. His voice is raspy and I can feel something happening in his pants.

I rub my waist up against the tent I can feel forming in his pants, going in circular motions as he does the same. One hand around my waist the other on the back of my neck, I let out a slight whimper than causes him to let out a deep breath he’d been holding in. My back pressed against the car and waist pressed up against him, I can feel wetness pooling in between my legs.

My mind goes into overdrive, what if this is what he does? He’s get with these girls and fires them? Am I gonna be next? The mood is quickly ruined for me, and I think he can tell.

My hips are going slower, I’m thinking way to hard.

I pull back from the kiss.

“This is stupid sorry, I’m not the kind to do this with a boss” I lie, I would, if I knew I wouldn’t be fired the next day.

“What?” He looks so hurt, I feel bad, but I’m old enough to know this is a stupid thing to do, especially in a parking lot with other peoples cars in, people that probably work in the same building as us. He pulls his hands away from my hips slowly, likes he so desperate not to.

“I gotta go, can we just forget this” I say, turning around and opening my car door with a wave of my hand. I momentarily think ‘god what the fuck is wrong with me, turning down a rich, hot, famous dude who can kiss like a god?’

“Y/n, you’re not going to be fired you know? This isn’t what’s going on?” He’s stressed, almost rambling, like he’s desperate for me to stay. But I feel like he’s said that before, I need to leave, I need sleep and I need to move past it.

Driving away from him as he watches my car drive out the parking lot, why do I want to punch myself?

#smut #louis tomlinson #larry stylinson #fanfiction #boss #slow burn

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chigirisprincess · 3 years

Text

— Can You Hear Me?

Starring; Hitch Dreyse.

Warnings; 18+ minors dni + afab r eader + phone sex + pillow humping + modern au + praise + established relationship.

Word count; 1.8k

Note; Happy aot day!! We’ve been fed so well with Hitch content I had to share this older drabble <3 Enjoy!

The ice floating in your glass clinked against each other as you sprawled out on your sofa, the liquid nearly sloshing over the side when you sink into the cushions. Tension melts from your shoulders as you settle in for a night of relaxation after a long and gruelling week, some nineties rom-com playing over the television. You pay no mind to it; it’s one you’ve seen a hundred times over, if you wanted to, you could have received the whole thing word for word without even trying. Your phone is what steals your attention away, well rather it’s the messages your girlfriend Hitch is sending you that has you staring so intently at the dimly lit screen. She sent you a dozen or so across the span of five minutes, all some variation or other of “I miss you.”

Taking a sip from your drink you set it aside, your phone squished between your ear and shoulder as it rings. “Hi princess,” you coo on the third ring, her heavy pants crackling over the line as the phone connects, “How are you? Did you just get back from your lab?”

“I did!” she squeaks, shushing her mattress as the cheap metal frame squeaks obnoxiously loud, “Hange my T.A kept us late to show us some experiment they thought was cool so I treated myself to some takeout,” You laugh at the image of Hange in your mind, shaking your head as you ponder just what rabbit hole they feel into this week, “I swear I was seconds away from tearing my hair out, the whole the was ridiculous and now it’s too late for me to come over!”

Hitch whines in your ear, the pout she’s surely sporting tugs at your heartstrings.

“We always tomorrow,” you remind her, “If you stay over I’ll drive you back to campus on Sunday.”

There’s more shuffling on her end, a soft groan leaving her lips for a moment before she noisily clears her throat, “I know but I was hoping to see you today,” she whines, her breath catching on her words, “Didn’t you read my texts.”

Biting your lip you hum in acknowledgement, your fingers absentmindedly tracing over the bit of bare skin exposed by your shirt riding up. Hitch remains quiet, a small gasp and what you think to be a heavy pant just barely reaches your ears. Your eyes flicker over to the commercial lighting up your ill-lit living room, the moment it’s over you’ve already forgotten whatever product was trying to be pushed. Your eyebrows furrow when another minute passes and Hitch still hasn’t responded.

“Hitch?” you call out, checking to see if the call had dropped, “Are you still there?”

“Yes!” she shouts a little too quickly, her breath growing heavier, “Sorry what were you saying?” she forces out a chuckle, “I got distracted by uh- by an email!”

The sigh she lets out is interrupted by what was most certainly a moan. Hitch slaps her hand over her mouth so roughly you can hear the impact and the small hiss of pain she releases when she’s released what she’s done. Pressing your phone as close as you possibly can to your ear, you find yourself sitting up, your interest piquing as she angrily curses at herself under her breath.

“You alright princess?”

Biting your lip you can’t help but smirk, “Yup, ‘m fine just stubbed my toe,” she says, stumbling over each and every word, “So what were you saying baby?” she asks, her voice growing higher in pitch, “You have my full and undivided attention!”

Her bed squeaks, it’s followed by a grunt she tries to disguise with a cough but it wasn’t enough to throw you off her scent. She had to have been touching herself; Hitch was a horrible liar, even if she could make up an excuse for all the strange sounds she was making, you knew for certain what her moans sounded like. No matter how hard she tried to hide it, you’d know exactly what she was up to.

“I do?” you smile to yourself, “But you’re so terrible at multitasking,” a giggle slips out as you imagine the look on her face, “How are you going to cum if you’re paying attention to me.”

She sputters in shock, an incredulous laugh leaving her as she searches for another excuse to give you, “baby what on earth are you talking about?” she says, her voice is tight and nearing robotic, “Did you leave the t.v on again and forget?”

“You’re horrible!” you shout, maniacally cackling as Hitch struggles to keep her embarrassment in check, “You’re clearly masturbating, stop lying and own up to it!”

“I am not! You’re hearing things!”

Shaking your head you roll your eyes, “Oh princess you’re such a bad girl,” you hum, “Lying to me and using my voice to get off,” scoffing you sigh, “I must not be giving you enough attention?”

“But if I’m just hearing things I suppose I’ll just drop it if that's what you want?”

Hitch whimpers at the shift in your tone, and your body grows flushed. It had been too long since you properly spent anything with her, your opposite schedules cursing the two of you to a semester’s long game of phone tag. It was cruel and unfair but for now, you’d be thankful for your sweet girlfriend’s insatiable desire and her penchant for bad ideas. This wasn’t so bad though, not for you but maybe for Hitch and her pride.

You’d tease her endlessly, that was only fair.

“No!” she cries, her bedframe groaning with the presumed rock of her hips, “I’m not touching myself, I didn’t lie … I’m humping that teddy you gave me for our three-month anniversary.”

Flopping onto your back, your fingertips dance above your waistband daring to eagerly dip just below it. “That’s so lewd,” you giggle, shuddering in anticipation, “Who knew you were dirty, heh my dirty girl huh, princess?” Hitch whines at your words, “Tell me exactly what you’re doing, I wanna know.”

“I can’t-”

“Is the big button nose what you’re grinding your clit on?”

“Yes,” she mutters pathetically.

“Does it feel good?” you ask with a grin, “I bet it does, you were having such trouble holding back your moans weren’t you?”

Hitch grunts in affirmation, “Are you?” she questions with a pant.

“Am I, what?”

The teasing lilt in your voice drives Hitch mad. If looks could kill you’d be dead ten times over, you didn’t have to see the exasperated expression she wore to know that. The annoyed whine she releases is enough to tell you. Dropping your leg off the side of the couch you spread them further apart, your hips lifting as you push your hand into the waistband of your underwear.

“Are you touching yourself?” Hitch growls, scoffing at the miffed sound of surprise that leaves you, as if you’re above phone sex, “Tell me, baby! I need to know.”

You ponder aloud, humming in faux contemplation “I might be,” you casually mention, sighing a bit as you lightly caress your vulva, “Would you like it if I were?”

“Yes,” she breaths, “And I want you to tell me all the things you’d do if I was there.”

Chuckling you bite your lip, “Well if you were here princess I’d be taking my sweet time with you,” you start, your eyes fluttering shut as you picture her and that lacy pink set you adore, “Sucking on your neck, maybe leaving a hickey or two … You love it when I leave hickeys they make you so wet,” Hitch sighs to herself eagerly listening to your words, “Mhm, and I’d have you on my lap, you’re pretty pussy on my thigh, grinding on it. Your panties sticky, all for me and only for me.”

Circling your clit with two fingers you keen at the soft sounds Hitch emits, they’re distorted with the way she’s clutching her phone, her hand slightly covering the speaker. You can hear her acrylics tap against the screen as she tightens her grip.

“Then what?”

“I think then I’d want to taste you,” Hitch all but wails into your ear, “As much as I love playing and sucking on your tits I don’t think anything compares to your perfect pussy,” you muse, your chest growing hot, “I could never resisting, not that you’d want me too. Maybe I’d have you sit on my face. How does that sound, love?”

You don’t understand the barrage of cries that Hitch sends you.

“Princess I need you to speak up.”

Hitch mumbles a small, “Okay,” it’s barely audible but you’re able to catch it, “It sounds good baby,” she says, “It sounds so good, I wanna sit on your face and I want you to kiss and bite my thighs all over!” Hitch moans, “Oh ‘m so close.”

“Are you?” you ask, “But I’m not finished,” chuckling to yourself, you push back the pleasured sound that tries to fall past your lips, “Because after I get you to cum all over my cum I think I’d want you to fuck yourself on that feeldoe.”

Heat spreads across your body, it’s unbearable, the heat making you uncomfortable with all the layers covering you but you’re too focused on getting Hitch closer and closer to the edge to toss your phone aside and strip down. Your back arches upwards, your clit steadily hardening with each coquettish squeal your girlfriend makes; even growing the slightest bit flustered at your own words, the images dancing across your eyelids. You wish they weren’t just fantasy, Hitch does too but the frustrations and feelings of loneliness aren’t enough to stop a puddle of drool from dribbling down the corner of your mouth.

“Mhm want you to squirt all over my cunt,” you moan, shiver as your nipples pebble from the cool breeze drifting through the window, “You’d make sure I cum too right? Of course you would, my princess is such a good girl,” your laughter is muddled, a throating whine cutting in, “And then you’d clean me up, make me cum again, then clean me up once more?”

You’re sure she’s cum, it’s the tremble in her voice and the audible plop which carries over the phone as she crumples into the mattress, “I wanna taste you so badly baby,” she whines, kicking her feet in frustration, “I miss you so much, this didn’t even feel good,” Hitch huffs, “Did you cum?”

“I haven’t,” you said, “But turn on your camera and let me go grab a toy and I might.”

She gasps, as you hoist yourself up from the couch the loss of contact to your clit sends a pang through you.

“You gonna put on a show for me baby?” she whisper-shouts in excitement.

Your drink’s abandoned on the coffee table, your slippers left in the living room as you pad down the hall, “Only if you tell me all the things you wish you were doing to me,” you mutter, “Maybe make s’more pretty sounds for me, sound good?”

“We have a deal, baby.”

#hitch dreyse smut #hitch dreyse x reader #aot smut #snk smut #aot x reader #snk x reader #wlw smut #sapphic smut #aot x you #snk x you #hitch dreyse x you

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boldlyvoid · 3 years

Text

touch me

spencer reid x reader

Summary: Spencer is incredibly touch-starved and hard on himself since coming home from prison. Luckily, the medical examiner in this small town is really good at reading people, and exactly what he needs.

warnings: mentions of cases, insecurity issues, female reader, smut, blowjobs, riding, praise, emotional hurt/comfort. emotional sex, strangers to lovers, hook-ups,

word count: 5.8k

They had been in New Mexico for almost a week, solving a series of murders that seemed to have no end in sight. There was nothing they could do but go back to their hotels to sleep, hoping there’d be a connection in the morning.

Spencer and JJ were sharing a room as the small town hotel didn’t have accommodations for everyone that was visiting to help with the case. They didn’t mind, it was like a long sleep-over.

They did their own thing, kept their space and Spencer really did enjoy overhearing her on FaceTime with her kids. It was refreshing happiness in the middle of the madness murder sadness and despair they were swallowed by.

When his phone rang at 6 am, just shortly after he returned to his room for a quick rest, he sighed deeply, “Dr. Reid.”

“I’m so sorry to do this to you, but another body dropped and I need you to go to the ME,” Prentiss explained softly down the line. “It’s weirder than the other’s and you’re the only person who would be able to work it out with the examiner.”

“I’m on it,” he replied with a tightlipped smile. He hung up and looked over at JJ, already peacefully asleep on her bed. He closed the door softly on his way out, not wanting to disturb her any further.

At the other end of the hallway, Spencer stood and waited for the elevator. It seemed to be taking forever, everything he was doing lately dragged on and on with no end in sight. He was exhausted, still struggling with his PTSS, just all around not having the best time.

He was in the middle of rubbing the sleep out of his eyes when the elevator opened with an equally tired woman waiting inside. “Hi,” she said before covering her mouth to yawn, “sorry.”

“I get it,” he smiled as he stepped inside. “Lobby?”

“Yes please,” she smiled. “Are you here for the case too?”

“Uh, yes,” he answered softly, “I’m Dr. Spencer Reid, with the FBI.”

“Oh, hi! I’m Dr. Y/N Y/L/N, the medical examiner,” her face lit right up. “Agent Prentiss said you’d be joining me I just didn’t think this quickly.”

She was adorable, bubbly and happy in a way he envied. He missed the feeling of random giddiness, smiling at her as he felt the butterflies swirl in his stomach. “Do you need a ride? I have an SUV from the bureau.”

“Yeah,” her smiled got bigger. “That would be really nice.”

They walked closely together through the lobby and towards the parking structure, he hit the unlock button a few times while trying to figure out which SUV his keys matched to. Finally getting in and watching her climb in the passenger seat.

“Do you know anything yet about the body?” Spencer asked as he turned on the ignition.

“Yeah hold on,” she pulled her iPad out of her bag and started sliding through emails.

“Your tech girl sent me the initial police reports, witness statements and overview,” she began to explain. “Like the others, she’s a 25-year-old female, blond, blue-eyed, athletic.”

“Prentiss said it was a weird one?” Spencer added.

“They think she was embalmed before the unsub staged her,” Y/N added with a tone of disgust on her voice. “Do you have your tech girl’s number?”

“Yeah, hold on,” Spencer dug his phone from his pocket and dialled the number.

“Penelope Garcia, the 8th wonder of the world at your service,” she answered after just one ring. “How are you doing on this fine morning, my fine furry friend?”

“Not so hot,” Spencer replied. “I’m with the ME right now on the way to the body, she has a question for you.”

“Oh hello, ask away.”

Y/N was smiling on the front seat, enjoying the show they put on for her. “Um, hi I was wondering if you could look into anyone in this town buying embalming equipment, or if any has been stolen from the funeral home? This town is so under-resourced already, I don’t know where this guy could get this stuff.”

“Absolutely, I’ll add that to my parameters,” Garcia’s voice was lovely and soft. “I’ll call you back if I find anything!”

“She’s lovely,” Y/N exclaimed as Spencer place his phone back in his pocket.

“Yeah, she is.”

Spencer pulled into the morgue’s parking lot, the lights were all on and the Coroners van was parked by the loading doors. Inside there was just 1 officer, waiting beside a body bag as Spencer and Y/N walked in.

The officer gave them both a quick rundown of the crime scene findings, as well as information about where all the equipment was before leaving them to their work.

“Have you ever examined a body?” Y/N asked Spencer.

He nodded, “I’ve been present during a few, held some organs, but I’ve never done one myself.”

“They’re pretty gnarly,” She scrunched her face and giggled. “Let’s get you all geared up.”

She handed him a hairnet, a white plastic suit, goggles and a mask. “Gloves are on the wall, pick your size.”

He felt like a lunch lady standing beside her, taller than her by almost a foot, dressed in all white with a hairnet. He could tell she was smiling at him under her mask, her eyes gleamed up at him in a way that made his heart melt.

He had to remind himself multiple times that this was nowhere close to the time appropriate to want to flirt with someone. They were about to examine a dead body, and potentially solve a case. There would be time to flirt later.

But he was just so amazed by how she worked, being able to tell everything that was going on by just looking at the body. Making notes on her own and only occasionally explaining things to Spencer. In her own little world, solving the puzzle with expertise.

“The other 4 vics were just strangled and staged, dressed up and left in different areas around town,” she ran the case down more for herself, needing to hear the words to make a connection.

“Yes,” Spencer followed her train of thought, tilting his head as he listened.

“She was murdered, embalmed, staged and sexually assaulted. His MO is completely different and it’s only been 2 days since the last body dropped. I think he’s found his signature,” She explained her thoughts. “His sexual aspect comes out only when they’re dead and cold, we’re dealing with a necrophile.”

“While most serial killers start with small animals before moving on to humans, he started with women and then eventually grew to what he really wanted. That’s what we were missing,” Spencer’s eyes lit up.

“He’s a lot younger than you hypothesized in the original profile,” She added.

“You read it?”

She nodded, “yeah I like to know what you’re looking at to see if I have answers.”

“This is really going to help us,” Spencer smiled, his eyes mimicking hers now.

“I can finish up here if you want to go back to your team? I can get a cab,” She offered. “Go catch this guy.”

“Okay,” Spencer said, backing up from the table and taking his equipment off. Placing them in the hazmat garbage. “Are you sure?”

“Yes Dr. Reid, I’ll be fine,” She laughed. “Can I call you if anything comes up?”

He smiled again, “call me even if something doesn’t.” He dug a contact card out of his pocket and placed it on top of her purse. Waving as he walked out of the room.

—

He thought about her smile for the rest of the afternoon, leaving his findings with Prentiss before heading back to his room to sleep for a few hours.

He finally found his way back into the police department 5 hours later, coffee in hand as he tried to absorb all the new information. They had a lead, stolen embalming equipment from a funeral home a few towns over was reported 4 days ago.

He stayed back during the apprehension of the suspect. Simmons, Lewis and Rossi were closer and they didn’t think the unsub would be dangerous. No one was missing and he wasn’t expecting them, should be easy to get him to come in for some questions.

Much like the rest of this case, it didn’t go to plan. They found another woman in his home, having to shoot him in the process. Ending the spree, ridding the world of a necrophile. It just didn’t feel like justice was served when another person had to die.

Spencer sat on his bed, calming down slightly from the end of the case. Saving a woman, killing a murderer, it was all a lot to process in such a short time.

JJ was in her bed on the other side of the room, scrolling through Facebook as she looked at photos of her kids. It was a much easier way for her to calm down, remembering that she could go home to pure, unadulterated happiness at the end of a case.

They heard a small knock on the door, Spencer volunteered to answer, opening it only a small amount as he looked out.

“Oh, hi,” surprised to see Y/N behind the door.

“Would you like to come and drink with me?” She asked, holding up a bottle in her hand. “In my room,” she added.

“Yeah, yes um, hold on,” he closed the door on her softly.

“Who’s that?” JJ smirked at him.

“My friend,” he replied quickly, running to the bathroom to look at his hair and fix his shirt. “I’ll be back later.”

He grabbed his wallet, making sure he had a condom first, before opening the door only a small amount to slip out into the hall. Hiding Y/N from JJ as she tried to look out the door.

“Sorry, my co-worker and I are sharing,” he explained.

“It’s okay,” she smiled, heading towards the stairs. “I’m just a floor up, and the elevator takes a million years.”

Spencer held the door for her, watching her head up the stairs as he noticed the bottle in one of her hands and her shoes in the other. She walked up the steps in her socks, exhausted from the day.

“Did you get any sleep?” She asked him softly as she kept climbing the steps.

“A few hours, did you?”

“Yeah,” she laughed, “I woke up just before they called about the body this morning.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to just go to bed? You’ve been working for 12 hours,” Spencer worried for her.

She reached the door for floor 3, pulling it open with the hand she held her shoes in, “Sleep is the for weak.”

He laughed lightly, “do you want me to hold anything?”

“Here,” she handed him the bottle, “thanks.”

She dug the keycard from her pocket as he followed her towards the right door. Excitement bubbled in his chest as she opened the door and welcomed him inside.

It was exactly like his room downstairs, only there was just 1 queen bed and a few couches by the window. She set her things down on the bed, sighing deeply as she sat on the edge.

“Do you have any cups or mugs?” Spencer asked, reminding her that he was holding the alcohol still.

“Yeah, on the bar table over there,” she pointed. “I’m just going to change in the bathroom quickly, you can pour yourself a drink.”

“Okay,” he smiled awkwardly as he crossed the room.

She dug through her suitcase quickly. Spencer saw from the corner of his eye as she took out some shorts and a shirt, not even slightly worried about being so casual in front of a complete stranger.

He inspected the bottle, it was just a cheap scotch, nothing too special. He poured about an inch of the golden liquid into two cups, not a big fan of drinking but tonight he felt a little risky.

She came back looking more refreshed, very cozy, and still breathtakingly beautiful. He hadn’t felt this way about someone in a long time, the tightening in his chest as he wondered where the night was going to go.

Not to mention the longing he felt.

Even before prison, he wasn’t one to spend a lot of nights alone with a beautiful stranger. The added isolation in his life changed him on a fundamental level, he realized just how much he craved contact, and just how much he’s deprived himself over the years from both men and women. He just wanted to be loved properly.

He silently handed her one of the cups, smiling at each other softly as they tapped cups. Taking the whole drink, “oh, yep that was exactly what I needed.” Y/N’s eyes watered as her face scrunched up, coughing a bit.

Spencer felt the same, only being able to hide it a bit better. The burn was nice on his throat, it made him feel alive. “Did you want to order some food or anything or?”

She laughed, “that would be the smart and responsible thing to do.”

“Are you okay?” He asked softly.

She looked up at him, her shoulders dropping as she released the tension in her body. Looking into his eyes with care, it was so different from the way his co-workers looked at him. She didn’t think he was broken, she had to reason to believe he was even damaged.

“Yeah,” she smiled, placing her hand on his chest as she stepped in closer to him. “Do you like mushrooms on pizza?” She giggled, even this close to him with every opportunity to kiss him, she chose to just make him smile. Something that didn’t happen too often lately.

“I do, it’s my favourite topping actually.”

She took his tie in her hands and dragged him to the couch, “I enjoy topping sometimes too.”

She sat down on the couch and looked up at him, waiting for him to sit beside her. Patting the cushion beside herself while he swallowed sharply, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, making her smirk.

“I won’t bite Spencer,” she laughed finally. “I’m sorry if that was too much?”

“No,” he said, sitting down beside her quickly. “No, it’s fine honestly, I’m just not used to it.”

“Too busy with the FBI to find anyone to hit on you?”

He shook his head softly, pushing his hair out of his face. “I uh, I was framed for murder and in prison for 3 months. I haven’t really had a conversation with anyone I don’t work with in a while.”

“Oh,” she didn’t look surprised or scared. “That makes sense.”

“What does?”

“You’re soft,” she leaned in to press her hand against his chest once more, eye level with him now. Seeing his eyes dart from her lips to her eyes every few seconds as he licked his lips. “You don’t look like you want to hurt anyone, but something about your aura is changing. You know how to protect yourself now, and you’re stuck thinking you’re still in danger.”

“How can you tell all that just from looking at me?” He asked softly.

“If I showed up at any other man’s door with a bottle of alcohol and the offer of a night alone, I would have been pushed against that door the second we got here,” she explained. “You respect me, almost a little too much.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” His face was soft and curious and proving her point.

“You see me as a person, but I can tell you’re touch starved. Every time I get close to you, it’s like you don’t want me to move away,” her voice was barely a whisper as she leaned in even closer to him.

She could feel his breath on her face, her nose was close enough to brush against his as she stared at his lips, “but you won’t make the first move. You want to protect me from you.”

He nodded his head lightly before rubbing the tip of his nose against hers and making her smile. He let out a sigh, relaxing his shoulders as she straddled his lap, leaning him back against the couch. He bit the bullet and let his hands rest on her hips, looking at her softly in the hopes it was okay.

“Tell me?” She begged, holding his tie in her hands, running it through her fingers as she waited. “What do you want? What you miss? Let me be that for you,” she begged.

“Anything,” he finally tells her. “Just touch me.”

She loosened his tie, freeing his neck finally. She slowly undoes every single button on his shirt, untucking the hem from his pants as she opens it up.

Her fingers are warm on his skin, but he still gasps at the touch. Her fingers were so soft, like angel kisses as the pads of her fingers traced the skin. Gliding over every freckle, raking through his chest hair, bumping along the barely-there abs.

His thumbs rubbed against her bare thighs, where he held her lightly. “You can touch me too,” she whispered.

His hands travelled up to her waist, he gently pulled her in closer. No longer resting on his legs, but pressed close to his chest. Her hands landed on his shoulders, looking down at him with nothing but pure lust as her breathing hitched.

She cupped his face, gliding her thumbs along his cheeks softly as she stared at his lips. He opened his mouth to breathe, his bottom lip was plump and beautiful and she couldn’t help herself from rubbing her thumb over it.

He kissed her thumbprint before taking it in his mouth, sucking on it softly making her hips buck into his lightly. The suction on her thumb was more erotic than she expected, the feel of his hot mouth, his wet tongue swirling around it before he let her go with a pop.

She accidentally let out a moan that excited him, “like that?”

She immediately felt her heartbeat in her clit, she nodded feverishly. Suddenly at a loss for words, wondering where this Spencer suddenly came from.

“How far are we taking this?” He asked softly. “We can stop and order that pizza at any time?”

There he was, the soft and sweet man that she brought here in the first place. “Pizza is even better after sex,” she couldn’t stop the giggle from erupting from her, even as she bit her lip.

He smiled at her like she was the world. A complete stranger making him feel more than anyone had in the last year. “I’m going to need longer than it takes to deliver a pizza,” he admitted.

“Luckily they’re open late,” she compromised, leaning in and finally kissing him.

It was soft at first, then he pulled her in even closer. She was chest to chest with him as he breathed her in deeply. She melted into his grasp as if he had just stolen her soul right out of her body.

She was his now.

She kept his face in her hands, holding him as he broke the kiss to explore her jaw. Kissing every inch of her neck and chest as she gripped his hair, making him moan as she used her nails to comb through the long locks.

“Does that feel nice?” She cooed, running her nails along his scalp as he tilted his head back.

“My favourite thing,” he explained as he closed his eyes, letting her repeat the same motion again and again.

He looked so peaceful, running his hands over her back and sides softly as she massaged him. She leaned in and kissed his cheeks, the tip of his nose, both eyelids and his forehead.

He wanted her to touch him everywhere, her delicate touch made him feel worthy for once. Every self-hatred of his washed from his body as she explored him with care, care only one would receive if they were a most prized possession.

He felt loved.

It was overwhelming, he didn’t realize a tear had slipped down his cheek until she was wiping it from his skin. Shushing him softly before kissing him quickly on the lips.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, embarrassed.

“It’s okay, what’s on your mind beautiful?” She asked softly as she brushed through his hair once more.

“I just,” he looked in her eyes ever so innocently. “I’m not used to feeling cared for, no one pays attention to me this way.”

“That’s shameful,” she looked utterly perplexed. “Look at you? You’re gorgeous, you’re smart, you’re powerful. You’re kind and lovely and soft?”

“But I’m also weird and too much to handle,” he interjected.

“Not to me,” she corrected him. “this morning you could have said nothing in the elevator, you could have driven by yourself and awkwardly waited till I was finished my work. But you didn’t, you had a conversation with me, you helped me many times, you cared about me making it back here safely and you didn’t even know me. You’re a special kind of person Doctor Reid, and anyone who doesn’t see it is an idiot.”

He pressed his lips together in an awkward smile and furrowed his brow, “do you ever give out parts of yourself to everyone because you know how hard it is to feel appreciated?”

“All the time,” she laughed softly. “But not now.”

“Me either,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

“I’ll make you a deal, you tell me the worst thing you’ve ever done and I’ll tell you mine,” she offered. “Even the playing field.”

“How so?”

“Right now you think I’m super nice and kind right? And I just told you how I feel about you, but you hate yourself and outside of here I hate myself too. Share a secret, we can be fucked up together,” she smiled.

“In order to keep myself safe in prison, I poisoned a batch of heroin and almost killed a lot of people,” he responded without thinking.

“Okay,” she was a little shocked that he gave in so fast. “One time I stabbed a guy who tried to touch me after I pushed him off me twice already. He didn’t die, it barely even went in.”

“Both are technically self-defence,” he shrugged.

“See?” She smiled. “You’re not as bad and scary as you think you are. You’re smart and cunning.”

“Are you sure you’re not a therapist?” He teased her, “because this has been better for me than any therapy appointment I’ve ever gone to.”

She laughed again, kissing him softly. “I think it would be against the rules for your therapist to do this, I guess that’s why some men cheat.”

“How so?” He just liked listening to her speak.

“It’s easier to be open with someone you’ll never see again than it is with your therapist or wife because there are no consequences. They can’t judge you or hold anything against you, they do what you paid them for and they leave,” she explained herself.

“I’d like to see you again,” his voice barely a whisper. “If you’d like that?”

She nodded softly, “maybe I’ll move back to Virginia, finally.”

“Is that where you’re from?”

“Born and raised. I moved to Albuquerque with my girlfriend 5 years ago, and she left me about 2 years ago now,” Y/N explained. “I liked my job too much to move all the way back there and start over.”

“I can put in a good word for you where ever you want,” he offered before he could stop himself from looking too desperate.

“I’ll look into it,” she smiled.

He kissed the centre of her chest again before pulling her into a hug. Hearing her heart beating in her chest softly as she pressed her cheek to the top of his head and rubbed her hand over his back. Soothing him so completely, he felt beyond amazing.

And then she was gone, pulling back from him and standing up. “Wh-?” Before he could even ask, she was lifting her shirt off.

He stared at her breasts, eyes wide and jaw dropped. She walked over to the bar, taking another shot before she pushed her shorts down and climbed onto the bed. Completely naked in under a minute.

He stood then, pushing the opened shirt off his shoulders and immediately undoing his belt. He took a condom from his wallet before kicking off his shoes, dropping his pants and underwear to the floor and stepping out of them.

She was laying back against the pillows when he crawled over her, resting his naked body against hers ever so slightly. She just smirked as she looked up at him, “hi.”

“Hello,” he whispered.

“What do you want?” She asked.

“You.”

He kissed her softly on the lips, or at least he planned to. Y/N wrapped her arms around his back and pulled him down against her. Swiping her tongue across his bottom lip, begging to make out with him, finally.

Grabbing and tugging at each other as everything started to heat up, she could feel his erection against her leg as he ground down on her. Sucking on his tongue, lightly making him moan into her mouth.

His hair kept tickling her face, every time she’d push it away it would just fall right back against her skin. She pulled him off by his hair, gasping for air as they stared at each other again.

“Can I be on top?” She asked lightly.

He wrapped his arms under her, holding her close as he rolled over. Watching her settle more onto her knees as she sat on his hips. “Better?”

“Much,” she said as she sat up, taking a hairband off her wrist and putting her hair up. Raising her arms in a way that made her tits perk up. He reached up and cupped them, rubbing his thumb lightly across her nipples before giving them a squeeze.

She just laughed as she finished her ponytail, “having fun?”

“Absolutely,” he smiled up at her.

His hands followed the curve of her body, from her boobs to her waist and down over her hips. She was stunning, confident, everything he ever wanted and more.

She found the condom in the sheets, the bright purple packaging making it easy to see. She played with it in her hands, seeing how long it would take before he got desperate, but he never did.

“How long have you had this?” She asked, trying to tease him.

“Not long,” he was honest. “I just got out of prison, remember?”

“So you haven’t had sex since before you went in?” She looked excited.

“No, why?”

She smiled, “so I’m taking your free man’s virginity.”

“I don’t think that’s a thing?”

“It is now,” she giggled before leaning down to kiss him once more.

Trailing kisses down his neck, stopping only to suck a mark near his Adam’s apple. Hearing the sweet little gasps he made every time her tongue came in contact with his skin. She kissed his clavicle, his shoulder and down his chest. Making her way across his abs and over his lower tummy.

He gripped the sheets, not knowing what she had planned or where she was going. Spreading his legs, she kissed his groin, his right hip bone and the inside of his thighs. He couldn’t believe it, the way she explored him so delicately.

She ignored his cock for a while, kissing and sucking at any and all the visible skin she could find. He felt her smile against his thigh then, getting closer and closer before she took his cock in her hand and kissed the base.

He let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding in, settling into the bed like water filling a glass, he was liquid in her hands. Her mouth was a blessing and she chose him to worship.

“Fuck,” he moaned as she took all of him as far as she could. Dragging her tongue along the shaft as she pulled back up. Swirling her tongue around the tip before taking him all the way in once more.

She pulled off with a pop, sitting up now with his dick still in her hands. She tore the condom open with her teeth, taking the package off and rolling it over him.

His dick bounced back against his stomach when she let go of it, hard enough that it had a mind of its own now. She bit her lip as she lifted herself over him more, setting herself down softly where it laid against him.

The head of his cock brushed her clit as she ground down on him, his hands found her hips once more as he instinctively helped her find a rhythm.

He could feel how wet she was, the way she glided over him so easily. Her breath hitching every time her hips bucked, she was enjoying herself. It made him even more excited. She leaned back down then, kissing his neck once more as she continued to push down on him.

“I need you,” Spencer gasped.

She smiled against his skin, lifting her hips enough for him to line up with her before she started to sink down on it. He watched himself disappear inside of her, feeling the way she took him in like he was always meant to be there.

“Fuck,” she gasped as she sat down fully, her hands resting on Spencer’s stomach as she tried to get used to it all. Listing herself up and down little by little to get the rhythm going again.

Spencer pulled her back in again, arching her back so she could bounce easier. She held him close, tucking her face into the crook of his neck as she started to move faster and faster on him. Hearing his breathing pick up as his grip tightened on her asscheeks.

She kept one hand in his hair as her other hand reached for her clit, pleasuring herself slightly the way she knew she liked it. “Jesus Christ,” she whispered against his skin as she fucked him.

It had never felt like this before, it was so personal for the first time. They worked together perfectly, not having to communicate at all, following the other person’s rhythm like a well-oiled machine with a task.

He felt her everywhere. Her hands in his hair, her lips on his neck. The way her hot breath tickled right under his ear as she tried to catch her breath against him. The way she pulled off him and sucked him back in, again and again, her breasts against his chest and her ass in his hands.

He couldn’t believe it. That a real human being cared about and appreciated him, even after learning his worst secret. She was special and different and everything he needed.

He could feel himself getting closer, wanting to savour every moment with her that he could. His hands roamed her back, over her shoulders and arms. He wanted to touch every single inch of her while he had the chance.

“I’m so close,” she whispered in his ear, kissing his cheek and resting her open mouth against his.

They weren’t kissing, they were panting over each other with their foreheads resting together. Euphoria filling the empty spaces between them as she came, gasping and shaking violently over him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, bending his knees and driving into her a few more times before he finished.

She tugged on his hair then, biting his bottom lip as she felt him twitch inside of her. Letting out the smallest gasps and whimpers as she pulled her hand out from between them and pushed herself off him.

Dropping her body against his, resting her head on his chest as they caught their breath.

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her in a hug as he repeatedly kissed the top of her head. “Thank you,” he was still out of breath as he said it.

She smiled, laughing against his skin again as she hugged him back.

—

He woke up to the sun in his eyes and the feeling of lips against his skin. He blinked as gained consciousness, finding Y/N laying against his chest again. Her face in his heck where she was placing lazy kisses, trying to wake him up nicely.

“Good morning?” His voice was groggy and deep, it made her smile against his skin. A feeling he didn’t realize he missed so much during the night.

“What time is your flight back?”

“10:30, why?” He asked softly, rubbing his hand over her back softly.

She held him tighter, breathing him in deeply as she did so. Not wanting to let him go any time soon, “it’s 9:45.”

“Is it bad I’m hoping there’s a secret serial killer in Albuquerque?”

She laughed again, sitting up this time so she could look at him again. “Maybe I’ll come to visit my parents soon a find a reason to stay in Virginia?”

“I’d like that,” he smiled, pulling her into a kiss. Never wanting it to be the last one.

He waited till the last possible moment to finally peel himself out of her grasp, trying to find all his clothes and belongings from the night before

He kissed her quickly at the door before taking off down the steps and back to the room he was supposed to be sharing with JJ. He knocked on their door lightly, hoping to every god on earth she hadn’t left yet.

She opened the door and just stared at him with her mouth open, “oh my god?” She laughed.

“What?” He asked, completely oblivious to how he looked.

JJ dragged him inside, pulling him towards a mirror and pointing at his reflection. “What happened to you?”

His hair was a mess, he had hickeys all over his neck. His shirt was barely buttoned, definitely not untucked and he didn’t even have his shoes on. “oh.”

“Oh?” JJ couldn’t believe it. “Who is she?”

“Um, the ME from this case,” he explained, scratching the back of his head as he squinted.

JJ just laughed then, “hurry up and look somewhat presentable, pretty boy, the team is going to eat you alive for this.”

Sure enough, when he finally sat in his little corner of the plane with his glasses on and a hickey still visible above his collar, all eyes were on him. No one wanted to ask, they all just made it abundantly clear that they were curious.

Alvez even took a photo to send to Penelope, who sent it to Derek, who texted Reid only 20 minutes into the flight asking who she was. He rolled his eyes and put his phone back in his pocket. About to get really pissed when a second text came in.

555-0623: if you’re still serious about that recommendation, there is a spot available at the DC medical examiner’s office… I’d probably be closer to you than your therapist’s office 💋

He smiled then, saving her number and starting his letter.

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